The shift in her tone made me look up. "What?"
She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "She has a daughter. Casey. She's six."
The information took a moment to process. Six years old. Palisade had been pregnant, or gotten pregnant shortly after our night, and…
"Good for her," I managed, though the words felt hollow. Something nagged at me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. "She moved on. Found someone. Started a family."
"Easton—"
"I'm happy for her, Holly. Really." I stood up suddenly, needing to move. "She built a life. That's great."
My sister watched me pace, something unreadable in her eyes. "Is it? Great?"
"What do you want me to say?" I turned to face her. "That it bothers me? Knowing she moved on with someone else while I was still…" I cut myself off. "It doesn't matter. It was one night. Seven years ago. We barely knew each other."
"You remembered her for seven years," Holly pointed out gently. "That has to mean something."
I sank back onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "It means I'm an idiot who can't let go of things. It means I've been hung up on someone who clearly wasn't hung up on me." I looked at my sister. "She has a kid, Hol. A family. And I'm the guy who cleans kennels at her clinic because a judge said I had to."
Holly opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then closed it. She looked like she was at war with herself, her expression pained.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing. I just…" She shook her head. "For what it's worth, I think working at the clinic could be good for you. Not just because of the court order, but because… you need something outside of hockey. Something that reminds you who you are when you're not on the ice."
"And who's that?" I asked, only half-joking.
"I guess you'll have to figure that out." She stood, gathering the empty containers. "Try to keep an open mind, okay? About the clinic. About Palisade. About all of it."
After she left, I stood at the window, staring out at the city. Palisade had a daughter. A six-year-old daughter. She'd moved on, built a life, become a mother.
One night with her was burned into my mind, and I couldn't forget it.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
I pulled out Dr. Reyes's card, reading the words again.Stop, breathe, observe, proceed.
Confused. Disappointed. A strange sense of loss for something I'd never had. But underneath it all was something else.
Curiosity, maybe. Or hope.
Tomorrow I'd go back to the clinic. I'd clean kennels and feed animals and work alongside a woman who'd once meant something to me.
A woman who had a daughter, a life, a world that didn't include me.
And maybe that would be enough to let go.
Either way, there was no going back now.
I opened the journal and wrote an entry.
Today I found out Palisade has a daughter. I should be happy for her. Instead, I feel empty. Like I missed something important, but I don't know what.
Maybe Dr. Reyes is right. Maybe I don't know who I am without hockey.
Without anger.
Without my father's ghost telling me I'm never good enough.
