One by one, Lincoln's players drifted into the locker room.
Noah first. Then Riku. Then Leo.
And finally—Cael.
The door swung open, and there he was, his usual fire blazing. The bandage that once wrapped his head like a crown of scars was now smaller—just a strip across his brow. The wound still marked him, but less than before.
The second he stepped in, his voice exploded through the room.
"I'M BETTER!"
He threw his arms up like he'd just scored the winner in overtime.
The boys laughed, but Riku didn't let him off easy.
"But can you play?" he asked, one brow raised.
Cael froze, caught mid-celebration. His bravado cracked, leaving a flicker of nerves on his face.
"I… can," he said, but his voice wavered.
Riku leaned back, smirking. "But?"
Cael rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.
"I need one more check on Thursday. If the doctor clears me… then I can play." His words trailed into a low mutter, and he dropped onto the bench.
