CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
MATT
I could walkthese hallways with my eyes closed.It’s not the first time I’ve thought that. This arena has been a second home of sorts, somewhere I’ve spent a significant portion of my life.But walking in today I was hit with the alien thought ofI shouldn’t be here. No, I want to be at the hospital, holding Ellie’s hand, making sure she feels okay and doesn’t need anything.Telling her I love her again.Again. Finally.
So today it doesn’t feel like a home. It feels like going towork. I mean, that’s what it is, right? My job is “professional hockey player.” Sometimes I lose sight of that.
I know we have the day off, but I’ve decided it’s time for a chat with Coach. And I wanted to give Ellie some time alone with her dad now that he’s here. That was not what I imagined my first meeting with Michael to be like, but knowing Ellie has family here is helping me feel less anxious about leaving her for a couple of hours. Ellie’s apartment isn’t big enough, so I convinced him to stay at my house and got him a rental car. I’m hoping I can also convince Ellie to be at my house while she recovers this week.
I stop in front of Dan’s door, noting it’s cracked before I knock and push it open.
Dan startles for a moment, placing a hand over his chest. “Matt, I wasn’t expecting you. How’s…Ellie, is it? Is everything okay?”
I’ve been working alongside Daniel Miller for fifteen years and we’ve maintained something akin to a friendship. Or as close as you can get, given our coach-athlete dynamic. I made sure to text him an update late last night after Ellie had fallen back asleep.
“She’s going to be okay. She’s in recovery now. Getting discharged in the next couple of days.”
“That’s great. I know everyone was worried, myself included.”
“Thanks, yeah, the whole team’s been reaching out.” There’s a beat of awkward silence as I’m sure Dan is trying to figure out why I’m here. I glance at the chairs in front of his desk and move forward to sit down.
Looking around his office, I take in the awards and pictures. The stupid locker room trophies from over the years. The countless memorabilia from various stars he’s played and worked with. I’m focused on his desk when I get stuck on a framed family photo of him and his wife and their two kids. I swallow hard, thinking of yesterday, and pull my gaze away from the picture to Dan. He glances at the frame I had been studying and then back to me, his expression thoughtful.
“I’m sorry about the game. And playoffs,” I finally offer. Losing last night meant we were officially knocked out of playoff contention. We have a couple games left, but our season is effectively over.
Dan scoffs. “Matt, you know very well you’re not to blame for us not making the playoffs. And no one is upset you left the game, especially now that they know why.”
I shrug, hearing him but not fully able to let go of the guilt. It didn’t really hit me until late last night. I thought I wouldalso feel sad, or maybe even a little mad. But other than the low level of guilt for letting my team down, all I was really feeling was overwhelming relief Ellie was okay and comfortably asleep in front of me.
It was the first time in my life hockey felt unimportant. I’ve been sitting with that realization all last night and this morning.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Matt? You didn’t need to come here to apologize, I hope you know that.”
I clear my throat and nod. “Yeah, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about next season.”
“Oh, sure. I actually wanted to ask how you felt about the new kid, Miles, pairing up with Drew on D? I think they could mesh really well.”
“Um, yeah, I think that could work. Drew will love having a stronger skater next to him,” I say. I hesitate, finding this a little harder to verbalize than I thought. “I actually wanted to talk about something else.” Another pause. “I’m not sure if I’ll be here next season.”
Dan’s mouth parts. “What? Is this about your contract? You know they’ll work with you on whatever terms you want, Matt.”
“No. No, I know.” I swallow. “I’m not sure if I, um, want to come back.”
I think Dan could be knocked over with a feather right now. To be fair, I could never have imagined those words coming out of my mouth either.
“Your stats have been going up the last three seasons though. You’re one away from a thousand assists! Which you could get before the season is over, but still. You’re playing better than ever, Matt. We could have a decent shot at the playoffs next year,” Dan rambles. For someone normally very composed, it’s both funny and endearing seeing this side of him.
“I know. I know all those things. It’s not a decision I would make lightly, I promise. And I’m not sure yet, anyway. But Iwanted to keep you up to date on how I’m feeling. We’ve been in this together for a long time.”
That seems to give him pause. He smiles, but it’s twinged with sadness. “We have.”
The uncharacteristic emotion in his voice gives me a wave of gratitude. I’ve been lucky to work with this guy for so long.
“Is there anything I can do? Say?”
I shake my head and lean forward, rubbing my hands over my face. “Thirty years I’ve lived and breathed hockey. Hard to believe it’s been that long. The past few years I’ve started to wonder what I would do after my career was over. How would I love something as much as hockey? It’s been my entire life. Nothing has ever compared.”Until now.The words aren’t spoken, but I think Dan can see where I’m going.
He nods seriously. “You’re not alone in that. It’s the pro athlete’s curse.”
