Chapter 126 Chapter 126

Chapter 126 Chapter 126
By the time we stepped out of the locker room, the arena had become almost unrecognizable.

The noise, music and celebration had disappeared.

Only a few members of the arena staff remained, quietly folding chairs, sweeping the stands and collecting the blue-and-silver banners that had decorated the building all afternoon.

It wasnt strange.
Only an hour ago, this place had celebrated one victory.

Now...

It was quietly protecting another.

Coach Bennett walked a few steps ahead with Mike.

He never rushed him.

Every now and then, he'd glance sideways, making sure Mike was still steady on his feet.

Mr. Harris remained on Mike's other side, carrying the backpack one of the assistant coaches had quickly put together for him.

Inside were clean clothes, toiletries, a fresh towel and a spare Western Helms hoodie.

"I still think you packed too much," Coach Bennett teased lightly.

Mr. Harris looked genuinely offended.

"Too much?"

He hugged the bag protectively.

"The boy disappeared for months."

He glanced at Mike.

"Do you know how many times I imagined this moment?"

Mike gave him a tired smile.

"...Probably a lot."

"A lot?"

Mr. Harris snorted.

"I packed this bag in my head at least a hundred times."

That earned a few quiet laughs from everyone walking behind them.

"I even argued with myself over whether you'd prefer the navy hoodie or the grey one."

Mike looked at him in disbelief.

"You... actually thought about that?"

"Of course I did."

Mr. Harris shrugged as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I wasn't about to have one of my boys come home without something clean to wear."

Mike lowered his head.

His lips pressed tightly together.

"...Thank you."

Mr. Harris smiled.

"You've thanked me enough tonight."

"No..."

Mike whispered.

"I really haven't."

His voice cracked.

"I don't think I ever could."

The older man's eyes softened again.

Instead of answering, he simply reached over and squeezed Mike's shoulder.

\---

The school guest house sat behind the main academic building.

It wasn't luxurious.

Just a modest brick building usually reserved for visiting coaches, referees and guest speakers.

Tonight...

Its lights glowed warmly against the cold evening.

Coach Bennett unlocked the front door.

"Come on."

Inside, the warmth immediately wrapped around us.

One of the assistant coaches had already prepared a room.

Fresh sheets covered the bed.

A kettle rested on the small table beside it.

There were folded towels, extra blankets and even a tray with soup, bread and fruit waiting near the window.

Mike stopped in the doorway.

His eyes slowly travelled around the room.

Then he looked back at Coach.

"You... did all this?"

Coach Bennett smiled faintly.

"No."

He nodded toward the others.

"We all did."

Mike turned. The entire team had followed. Some stood awkwardly in the hallway. Others leaned against the walls.

Nobody seemed ready to leave.

Mike laughed quietly through tired eyes.

"You guys really don't know when to go home."

One of the seniors grinned.

"We figured you'd missed enough team meetings."

Even Blake smiled.

"You don't get rid of us that easily."

The room filled with soft laughter.

It felt...Wonderfully normal.

Coach Bennett pointed toward the adjoining bathroom.

"Hot shower."

Mike instinctively looked down at his clothes.

"I..."

His voice became small.

"I don't have anything."

"You do now."

Mr. Harris immediately opened the backpack.

"I packed everything."

He proudly held up a folded T-shirt.

"See?"

A few players laughed. Coach shook his head.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone more prepared than you."

"I've had months to prepare."

The words slipped out before Mr. Harris realized he'd said them.
"Go on."

He smiled gently at Mike.

"Wash all this worry off you."

Mike looked down at the muddy stains covering his sleeves.

"I probably smell terrible."

Blake wrinkled his nose dramatically.

"Honestly?"

A few players looked at him.

"...Yeah."

The room burst into laughter. Even Mike laughed harder this time.
"I'll... fix that."

He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

The sound of running water filled the room a few moments later.

Nobody spoke immediately.

It felt almost wrong to break the quiet.

Finally, Coach Bennett let out a slow breath.

"He looks worse than I expected."

Mr. Harris nodded.

"But he came back."

"He did."

Coach looked toward the closed bathroom door.

"And that's what matters tonight."

Ryder stood near the window, staring out into the darkness.

His hands rested inside his jacket pockets.

I walked over quietly.

"You okay?"

He smiled faintly.

"I don't know."

"That's honest."

He nodded.

"I've spent months imagining what I'd say if Mike ever came back."

He laughed once.

"Barely any of it survived the moment I actually saw him."

I looked toward the bathroom door.

"People rarely return the way we imagine."

"No."

His eyes remained fixed on the snowy campus outside.

"They don't."

He became quiet again.

"I still have questions."

"I know."

"I still remember what happened."

"I know."

He finally looked at me.

"But when I saw him standing at that arena door..."

His voice softened.

"...all I could think was..."

"'Thank God he's alive.'"

Without thinking, I slipped my hand into his.

He looked down at our joined hands before giving them a gentle squeeze.

Neither of us needed to say anything else.

Across the room, Coach Bennett noticed.

A small smile crossed his face, not because we were holding hands.

Because, for the first time in a long while...

The people he'd spent months trying to heal were beginning to find one another again.

The bathroom door opened and Conversation stopped instantly.

Mike stepped out slowly.

His hair was still damp from the shower. The bruises on his face hadn't disappeared.

The exhaustion hadn't vanished either. But the dirt was gone.

The dried mud, dust and stains had all been washed away.

He wore the navy Western Helms hoodie Mr. Harris had packed for him.

It hung a little loosely over his thinner frame, but when the blue-and-silver crest caught the light...

It almost looked as though he had never stopped belonging there.

Mr. Harris smiled first.

"There he is."

His eyes shimmered with emotion.

"Now..."

He folded his arms with playful satisfaction.

"...that looks like one of my boys again."

Mike looked down at the hoodie.

His fingers brushed gently across the Western Helms crest stitched over his heart.

For a long moment...He simply stood there.

Then, so quietly that we almost didn't hear him, he whispered,

"I never stopped being one."

No one answered.

Because every person in that room already believed it.

And somehow...

That simple sentence carried more hope than anything we'd heard all night.