"I knew I liked you." She settles deeper into the couch, pulling her legs up. "So. Real talk. How long have you been in love with my brother?"
I choke on my coffee. "I'm not—we're not—it's complicated."
"That's not a denial."
"We're taking things slow. One more game, then we'll talk about what comes next."
"Babe." Sage sets down her cereal bowl with exaggerated care. "You're already in love. Both of you. The talking part is just you both being stubborn about admitting it."
My phone sits on the counter where I left it last night, Devon's text still glowing in my notifications.This could be everything. Don't walk away.
The reality show. The career I built. Life-changing money and a chance to rebuild everything I lost.
All I have to do is say yes.
Except I've been awake since five this morning, staring at that text, and every time I try to imagine myself back in front of cameras, performing Alaska instead of living it—my chest gets tight and my throat closes and every part of me screams wrong.
"You okay?" Sage asks. "You look like you're having an existential crisis."
"Just thinking about a work decision."
"The phone call from yesterday?" She tilts her head. "At the café? You came back in looking like someone had just offered you a million dollars and a root canal at the same time."
I laugh despite myself. "That's... actually pretty accurate."
"So what's the dilemma?"
"I don't know." I pick up my phone, staring at Devon's message. "It's everything I worked for. Everything I thought I wanted."
"Thought?"
"Yeah." The word comes out quieter than I expected. "Thought."
Sage is quiet for a moment, studying me with those sharp Lockwood eyes that see way too much. "Can I tell you something?"
"Okay."
She sets down her cereal and pulls her knees up to her chest. "When Mom started drinking after Dad died, Ryder and I moved to Fairbanks with my aunt after social services got involved. Away from Ashwood Falls, away from everyone who knew us. Ryder was fourteen, and overnight he became... everything. He got a job at a grocery store, made sure I got to school, learned to forge Mom's signature on permission slips."
She pauses, her voice going softer. "For three years, he held our entire family together with duct tape and determination. Paid bills. Made dinner. When we visited mom, he’d drag her to AA meetings when she'd let him. And the whole time, he told himself it was temporary. That once he made it to the NHL, once he proved himself, then he'd have earned the right to be happy."
My ribs constrict, tight and airless. "Sage?—"
"I'm telling you this because I've watched my brother spend a decade chasing a dream that was never really about hockey. It was about proving he deserved to exist. That Dad's sacrifice meant something. That all that pain and struggle would be worth it if he just achieved enough." She meets my eyes. "Don't do that to yourself. Don't build your worth on external validation. Don't spend your life performing happiness instead of just... being happy."
I look down at my phone. At Devon's text promising everything.
Everything except peace. Except authenticity. Except waking up and not immediately thinking about engagement metrics.
"Mom's been sober for years now," Sage continues. "She's got a job she loves, she moved to Fairbanks with our aunt, helps with community outreach programs. She's stable. Happy. And you know what freed her? Letting go of the idea that she had to earn forgiveness. She just had to choose to be different."
"What if I choose wrong?"
"What if you choose right?" She grins. "Besides, worst case scenario, you end up living in a tiny Alaskan cabin with mediocre WiFi and a moose who has boundary issues. Could be worse."
I laugh despite myself. "Morris isn't that bad."
"I heard he ate your side mirror."
