His mom was quiet for a moment. "And where does that leave you two?"
"I don't know. We're figuring it out. But Mom—I'm not scared. For the first time in my life, I'm not scared of what comes next. I'm just... here. Present. Living."
"Your dad would be so proud of you."
Jake felt his throat tighten. "I hope so."
"I know so. You chose the life you wanted. That takes courage." His mom paused. "When are you coming to visit? I want to meet this Lucy."
"Soon. Maybe next week?"
"I'll make your favorite. Bring Lucy if she's free."
After they hung up, Jake sat in his truck and looked out at Timber Falls. The mountains in the distance, the small downtown, the rink where he'd spent most of his life.
This was home. Not because he'd failed to leave, but because he'd chosen to stay.
His phone buzzed again. The team group chat.
Marcus:GAME TOMORROW NIGHT. Everyone better show up ready to play. We're 8-2 and I'm not letting that change.
Owen:I'M READY COACH STONE
Ryan:Technically Marcus isn't a coach
Marcus:I'm a spiritual coach
Jake:You're a goalie who talks too much
Marcus:Says the guy who literally never talks
Owen:Coach Jake talks to me! He helped me with my backhand yesterday and it was AMAZING
Dmitri:good job Reaper
Jake smiled and put his phone away. This was his team. His future. His choice.
Tomorrow they had a game. Next week, Lucy would start the process of selling the bakery. In a few months, she'd probably leave for culinary school or travel or whatever adventure she chose.
And Jake would be here. Building his life. Coaching hockey. Being present.
But tonight—tonight was theirs. Another evening together before everything changed. Another moment of being present instead of worrying about the future.
Jake drove to The Bread Basket. Lucy was behind the counter, helping a customer, flour on her cheek as always. She looked up when he walked in and her entire face transformed.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey. Wednesday lunch tradition? Or are we doing something different now?"
"I think we're making new traditions. Better ones."
"I like the sound of that."
Jake ordered six pork buns—some things never changed—and a black coffee. But instead of leaving, he sat at one of the small tables and waited for Lucy's break.
When she finally joined him, bringing two coffees and a plate of her butternut squash muffins, Jake realized something.
This was what he'd been missing for three years. Not the NHL, not the validation of making it, not the dream he'd been chasing since he was eight.
