NICO LOOKED forward to the routine of game days. The predictable pattern of where to go and what to do next soothed him. For a few hours, he didn’t have to think about anything. Not thinking used to be the best part about hockey. With skates on his feet and a stick in his hands, he could let instinct take over. He could just react. He didn’t have to think about whether this was what his dad would’ve done, whether he’d be scolded for passing instead of shooting or the other way around. He’d never wanted to play like his dad—he’d even purposely chosen to play forward instead of defense—but Nico
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