"What if you don't get drafted?" she asks.
"Then I coach. Or I finish my masters and work in sports psychology. Or I find some other way to combine everything I care about." I trace patterns on her back. "The NHL was my father's dream, not necessarily mine. I'm starting to realize that."
"What is your dream?"
"Right now? To make a difference in athlete mental health. To change the culture from within. To maybe coach someday and create the kind of supportive environment Iwish I'd had." I pull her closer. "And to build a life with you. Whatever that looks like."
"That's a good dream."
"What's yours?"
"To write stories that matter. That changes perspectives. That makes people think differently about sports and culture and power." She looks up at me. "And to build a life with you. In whatever city, whatever circumstances, as long as we're together."
We fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, and I don't have nightmares about my father or scouts or losing everything.
Because I've finally realized, I haven't lost anything.
I've gained something more valuable than any hockey career.
Myself. And the courage to be honest about who I am and what I want.
Everything else is just details.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
The draft happens without me.
I defer a year, like I'd been considering. Use the time to finish my masters, work with the team's sports psychologist, build connections in mental health and athletics.
My father hasn't spoken to me since the championship game. Maya moved in with me for the summer, working a job and taking online classes, loving the independence.
Lennox got a summer internship at The Athletic, writing about sports culture. Her articles are brilliant and already getting attention from major publications.
We're making it work.
Tonight, we're at Isla and Sebastian's apartment for dinner. It's become a regular thing, the four of us, sometimes with Ivy and Lennox's other friends, eating takeout and playing board games like normal people.
"So," Sebastian says during a lull in conversation. "Heard you're eyeing a coaching position for next year."
"Thinking about it. Assistant coach for the women's team. Help build their program while I finish my degree."
"That's a good move. Different from NHL, but still hockey."
"Different is good. I'm learning that." I look at Lennox, who's arguing with Isla about something. "Sometimes the unexpected path is better than the planned one."
"Couldn't agree more." Sebastian raises his beer. "To unexpected paths."
We toast, and I think about how far I've come from that first morning practice where Lennox observed me with hostile eyes.
How we went from enemies to adversaries to something real and complicated and perfect.
How I went from being my father's puppet to being my own person.
How falling for a journalist who challenged me ended up being the best thing that ever happened.
My phone buzzes.
