"Looks like you boys had a very affectionate celebration this year, eh?" Wiedeman says as the video ends. Jonathan lifts his head from its protective refuge, spreads his arms out wide. This, at least, he can deal with. "What can I say? I love my team."

"I kissed McDavid and then we won a game," Jack blurts out. He flexes his hand nervously. There's a suspicious silence on the other end of the phone line, but Noah is probably not laughing at him. Out loud.

Mitch’s heart is freezing over. It takes him exactly one year, seventeen days, five hours, and thirteen minutes to notice.