I think we confuse the crowd when everyone piles on me. There’s still something to celebrate, for me, even with a loss on the board.
I sit in the locker room after the game a little longer than usual. Everyone else is cleared out and headed to the bar.
My gear’s off, my pads piled. I trace the edge of my skate blade with my thumb, not because it’s loose, but because I want to remember this. A lot of things in my career are lost to a haze of pills, so I know how important it is to latch onto these moments. Keep them.
Across the room, Jerry leans in the doorframe.
“They want to re-sign you,” he says without ceremony. “Another one-year deal. Same role. More money. They’ll keepyour no-trade clause, and if you can’t skate for injury, they’ll hold you on the reserve instead of a cut.”
I nod slowly. “I figured.” It’s a hell of an offer.
“You thinking about it?”
I meet his eyes.
“Not even a little bit.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “I did what I came to do.”
“What about a contract extension for post-season?”
“Nope.”
I want to leave just like this. First line, helping to build a team that’s going to be a force next season. Not washed up and limping out a contract on the IR list. Not finished by parties and bad choices. Not traded all over the league.
He studies me. Then nods once.
“You skated first line tonight like you were born to it. Good way to go out.”
“I thought so,” I say. I don’t mention the throb in my knee that hasn’t stopped since fifteen in.
“You gonna tell Dom?”
“Let him find out in the group chat. He’ll cry,” I say, although I have already told him, right after the game.
Jerry snorts. “You’re a bastard.”
“Yep. Probably,” I retort. Dom is the kind of guy who can lead the Knights or any team he’s on to a wild victory. If I’ve laid a firm foundation, he won’t make the missteps I did. I already told Jerry the best thing they can do is find some earnest captain, one of those do-good Captain America on ice types the Midwest seems to churn out. Or Canada. Hell, they were a dime a dozen when I was coming up, which is why I got so much attention by not being Mr. Perfect. Dom would be so busy protecting a guy like that he wouldn’t have time for trouble.
In the hotel room, I send two texts.
To Dom:
Me: You’re ready. Just remember to pass once in a while. And keep your chin up. Literally. Protect that jaw.
He sends back twelve crying emojis and a selfie flipping me off.
To Thatcher:
Me: Get out the good flannel. I’m coming home.
Chapter twenty-five
Epilogue – Roe Monroe
Ayear later
