“Okay,” she says softly. “But maybe check, just in case.”
I lean back, sip my drink, and let the conversation drift to something else. But later, when we’re saying goodbye and the night air hits me, the question won’t shake loose.
What if she’s right?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
DECLAN
The alarm goes off before sunrise, but I’m already awake.
For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no brace on my leg, no scheduled PT, no limits. It’s game day, which means adrenaline hits before dawn.
My knee feels solid when I stretch, the movement clean, easy.
We’ve got our HR meeting after morning skate to make everything official. Charlotte handled the scheduling. She sent the email and locked it in. It feels like the final piece sliding into place.
Today isn’t just another game. It’s Game 6—my first one back. A chance to close out the Conference Final on home ice.
Downstairs, the house smells like toast and syrup. Sophie’s at the kitchen table, fully dressed in her Foxes hoodie and jeans, finishing the last details on a bright new poster. Blue marker smudges her fingers, and there’s glitter everywhere.
“Let me guess,” I say, grabbing coffee. “You’re going for subtle this time?”
She grins without looking up. “Nope. It’s supposed to be visible from space.”
I chuckle, leaning on the counter. “You’ll blind the goalie with that thing.”
“Perfect,” she says, smiling wide. “Then you’ll score faster.”
The doorbell rings and Sophie rushes to the get it. A moment later Erin and Maya step inside. They’re both in hoodies and jeans, sunglasses perched on their heads.
“Morning,” Erin says. “We figured instead of just texting Sophie to come out, we’d say congrats in person. Big day for you.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, smiling. “Feels good to finally be back.”
Maya nods, eyes bright. “We can’t wait for the game tonight.”
Sophie gives me a quick hug before grabbing her sign and heading for the door. “Good luck, Dad. You’ve got this. We’re gonna be cheering so loud for you.”
I squeeze her once, trying not to show how much those words hit.
They head out a moment later, Sophie chattering between them. The house quiets as the door clicks shut.
For a beat, I just stand there, letting it sink in. This is it. I’m really back.
My phone buzzes on the counter with a text from Mom.
Proud of you, honey. Dad says play smart, not stubborn.
I smile, typing back:Promise.
It’s simple, but it hits harder than I expect. They’ve seen every comeback, every fall. This one feels different.
Then I grab my keys and head out.
At the rink, the energy’s already buzzing. The early crew is setting up. Coach McCarthy and David are reviewing tape. That playoff hum is thick in the air. The guys greet me with back slaps and grins, the kind that saywelcome back, Cap.
Charlotte’s near the training room when I pass, going over supplies with one of the assistants. Usually she looks up right away, that quick, easy smile that’s all hers.
