She nudges my shoulder lightly.“You know, when you were little, you used to tell everyone you were going to be a hockey playeranda cowboy.”
I huff out a laugh.“Sounds like something I’d say.”
“Then somewhere along the line that shifted, and it was all about hockey,” she continues softly.“I don’t think it ever occurred to you that you were allowed to change your mind.”
I stare at the soap bubbles for a second.“Do you think he’d be disappointed?”
“Who?”she asks.“The little boy?Or the man who thought he’d die if he left the league?”
“Either” I say.
She dries a plate thoughtfully.“I think the little boy would be thrilled you got to live his dream for as long as you did.And I think the man you are now is finally listening to him again.”
She bumps me lightly with her hip.“And as for Tessa…” She takes a deep breath.“You’ve hurt her, Nate.Deeply.It’s going to take time.But the work you’re doing now, the quiet work, the kind no one claps for, that matters.For you.Not just for her.”
“I don’t know if I’ll get another chance,” I admit.“I’m trying to make peace with that.To change because Iwantto, not because I think it’ll win her back.”
Mom’s smile goes soft.“That’s the only kind of change that ever sticks.”
She reaches up, cups my cheek for a second, thumb brushing just under my eye, the way she did when I was a kid.“I’m proud of you,” she whispers.“Not for retiring.Not for staying.For finally choosing yourself.The real you.We’ve missed him.”
I swallow hard and nod, because if I try to talk, my voice will break.
Chapter 43 - Nate
I’ve been waking before dawn for weeks now, long before the farm stirs, long before the first tractor engine grumbles awake.There’s something about the cold that steadies me.The way my breath ghosts out in front of me.The way the sky is still dark and quiet, like the world hasn’t made up its mind yet.It matches how I’ve been feeling.
But today… something’s different.There’s a pulse under everything.A quiet, electric hum threads through my ribs.Not peace, exactly, but momentum.A sense that the ground is finally shifting in the right direction.
I shower, pull on jeans and layer a flannel over an old long-sleeve thermal, then head downstairs.
My mom is at the counter, slicing bread for toast, her homemade loaf, the kind she only makes in winter.My dad is at the table with the paper and a mug of coffee big enough to double as a soup bowl.Eli’s jacket is slung over a chair from when he came in after chores.
It smells like butter and the wood stove.It smells like my childhood.It smells like the version of me I left behind.
My dad glances up.“You’re up early.”
He studies me, eyes narrowing slightly.My mom turns, sensing something in the air.
“You okay?”she asks, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
And for once, the answer isn’tI don’t know, orI’m fine.
“I will be,” I say.
My mom nods, slow and soft, like she’s been waiting to hear that exact sentence.“Good.”
I pour coffee, wrap my hands around the mug, and stare at the rising steam.
Because today is the day I tie up every loose end.
Today is the day I finally step into the version of myself I’ve been clawing my way toward since the night everything broke.
And tonight…
tonight I’m going to Tessa.
Tonight she’ll hear everything.
