“No. The opposite.” I shift toward her, resting one arm on the kitchen island, my fingers trailing lightly on her arm. “I want you here and not only overnight or when it’s convenient. I want you to move in properly.”
“You’re serious,” she breathes out.
I nod, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand, needing her to feel the truth of it. “I love having you here, waking up with you and figuring out my future with you. I don’t need tosee every detail to understand you’re the best part of every single day.”
“Even when I’m leaving my gear everywhere and stealing all your clothes?”
“Especially then,” I reply, pulling her into me.
Ivy kisses me, tasting of coffee and toast. “Fine, you twisted my arm. I’ll move in later this week,” she whispers against my lips teasingly.
My heart flutters like a puck bouncing off the post. “Good, because I already cleared out a shelf in the fridge for your favorites and bought you extra oat milk.”
“You’re such a sap.”
“And proud of it.”
I hold Ivy’s arm as we walk, her stride sure and easy beside me. I’m getting better at navigating the streets when I’m out alone, my white cane helping when needed. But it’s still easier for me to go from one place to another with company.
Em is walking a few steps ahead, on the phone with her assistant, rattling off numbers and schedule blocks with the confidence of someone who’s been up since six and has reorganized a client’s life twice today. She ends the call as we approach a narrow brick building.
"This is the one you wanted to check out?” Ivy asks me as we stop.
“It’s nothing fancy, but I like that it doesn’t feel corporate and how close it is to home.”
Em unlocks a door and the scent of old paper and dust greets us as we step inside. The open space is one big rectangle of exposed brick, dusty wood floors, and tall windows letting in a generous amount of light.
"Not bad," my friend comments. “With some paint, new furniture and a rug to dampen the echo...it’ll be perfect."
Ivy slowly turns in a circle. "I can picture it. Posters of adaptive athletes on the walls. A whiteboard full of plans. Perhaps a dog bed in the corner?"
We’ve been looking into getting a guide dog, though neither of us has made the call yet. The thought of it—a partner trained to help me navigate the world—makes me surprisingly emotional. It’s exciting and terrifying, another reminder of how different life is now and how much hope there still is.
"So, pitch it to me one more time, Seaborn," Em requests.
I take a calming breath and picture the charity I’ve been planning during my recovery the last two months. Then say, "It starts with community. I want it to be a place where people can fall in love with sports again or for the first time. I’m talking about adaptive training, mentorship, equipment access and visibility. Kids who lose their vision or live with other disabilities might think they can never have this. I want them to know they can."
When the two most important women in my life respond with sounds of affirmation, I continue. "I want programs connecting visually impaired, blind or other disabled athletes to former pros. They’re people who’ve played at the highest level and know the grind. We’ll build custom training plans, bring in guest coaches and build confidence.”
"Don’t forget stipends and scholarships for those who don’t have the money to chase those opportunities,” Ivy says.
"Exactly. We’re starting with hockey, but the plan is to expand. Skiing. Climbing. Running. Swimming. Whatever movement makes people feel powerful and comfortable in their skin,” I say, proud of myself for bringing such an important cause to Manhattan first.
“The gala next month is going to be huge. Between Jasper’s generous contribution, and all your former teammates donating and participating, we’ll reach the fundraising goal ahead of opening. We can double the amount if we play it right,” Em says proudly.
"The more we raise, the more we can give to the community,” I tell her, puffing out my chest in pride.
Walking further into the room, I’m standing in what could be my future office space. I imagine a big, wooden desk in the middle. Lots of laughter. A teen rolling in on crutches. A kid figuring out how to hold a hockey stick.
I turn toward both women. "Let’s do it. Let’s make this real."
The sun hits my face through the high window and I smile. This moment right here is filled with hope and positivity.
Em claps once, the sound sharp in the echoey space. “Alright. My agency will sponsor some of the start-up costs such as branding, legal and digital. My team can handle the communications side until we find a professional to work with you. We have a design mockup for the website and social channels done.”
I raise my brows, surprise sparking through me. “You what?”
“I had a feeling you’d pick this place.”
