I swallow hard.
“Then what?”I ask, even though I know.
“Then they started calling you the future of Summit City,” he says.“Captain material.Franchise saviour.And somewhere in there, you decided that was all that mattered.”
The words feel like a body check.
“I was proud,” he goes on quietly.“I am.Watching you on that ice… watching you chase something you loved… that meant something.But I also watched you disappear into it.Piece by piece.And I didn’t know how to pull you back without feeling like I was asking you to give up your dream.”
He looks away then, jaw working.
“That’s on me,” he says.“I should’ve said something sooner.”
The idea of my father, this steady, unshakeable man, feeling like he failed me nearly undoes me.
“It’s not on you,” I rasp.“I made the choices.I signed the contract.I let them… I let them do this.To me.To her.”
He studies me for a long moment.
“You did,” he agrees.“You let them.Because it felt like the only way to keep what you thought you needed.”
My throat burns.
“I became everything I swore I’d never be,” I whisper.“The guy who chooses the game over the girl.The guy who lets money and image matter more than the people who love him.I hurt her, Dad.I used her.I became the kind of man I’ve always hated.”
He doesn’t argue.
He doesn’t rush to tell me I’m wrong.
He just nods once, like he’s acknowledging a fact.
Then he leans forward, forearms braced on the table.
“Hockey ends, Nate,” he says, voice steady.“Whether you play two more years or ten.Whether you walk away on your own feet or they carry you out.It ends.The jersey gets someone else’s name on it.The fans move on.Those GM types who are breathing down your neck right now?They’ll be doing the same thing to the next kid in line.”
He taps a finger against the table.
“But who you are?”he continues.“That doesn’t end unless you let it.That’s the part you live with when the lights go off.When the crowd goes home.When you’re staring at the ceiling at three a.m., trying to decide if you like the man you've become.”
I stare at him, chest tight.
“So what?”I ask hoarsely.“I just quit?Walk away?Pretend the last ten years didn’t happen?”
“Did I say that?”he asks mildly.
“No, but...”
“Son, you have to decide what you want to build your life on,” he cuts in gently.“The noise… or the truth.The version of you who lives for headlines, contracts, and the next big thing.Or the version who cleans his girl’s driveway at six in the morning because he knows she hates when it ices over.”
My throat closes.
“Do you love her?”he asks quietly.
There’s no hesitation.
“Yes,” I say.“More than anything.More than I thought I could.And I fucked it up.”
“Can you fix it?”he asks.
