Love you too.
I get in the truck and pull out the notebook Max gave me. Five things I'm good at that aren't hockey. The blank page stares back, challenging me to see myself as something more than a defenseman.
I tap the pen against the paper, thinking.
I'm good at taking care of Scout. Making her feel safe and wanted and seen.
I pause, then keep writing.
I'm good at parallel parking. (Max said it counted.)
I'm good at making Scout laugh, even when she's trying to stay mad at me.
I'm good with numbers. Stats, analytics,patterns.
I'm good at showing up. Even when it's hard or when I want to run.
I stare at the list. It's not much. But it's a start.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I head home to Scout. To dinner and therapy homework and the life I'm building that exists beyond the ice.
Hockey won't last forever. But I’m starting to think beyond hockey, into next steps. And I’m not scared as shitless as I was six months ago.
That’s progress, right?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Scout
Istare at the invitation on the kitchen counter, my stomach twisting into familiar knots. The Seattle Havoc Annual Sponsorship Gala. Black tie. Plus-ones encouraged.
Enzo Moretti Sports Management is listed right there among the platinum sponsors.
"You've been staring at that for ten minutes." Silas appears behind me, hands settling warm on my hips. "What's wrong?"
I lean back into his chest, drawing strength from his solid presence. "Enzo's going to be there tonight."
His entire body goes rigid. "Then we're not going."
