Ifind Sutton in her room Friday evening. She’s lying on her bed wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a T-shirt. She has a book open and is furiously scribbling notes on a yellow pad.
"Hey," I say from the doorway. "Got a minute?"
She looks up and graces me with one of those smiles that sends warmth spreading through my body. "For you? Always."
I close the door behind me and sit on her bed. “Studying?”
“Yes. I figured since I have to work all weekend, I'd better do it now.”
"I leave at six tomorrow morning," I say.
"I know. Ships passing in the night."
"I hate that we're going to miss the whole weekend together."
"Me too. But that's life, right?" She sits beside me. "Hockey waits for no one."
This is it—the opening I need.
"Speaking of hockey—" I take her hand. "I need to tell you something."
I see the fear jump in her eyes. "Okay."
"The dev camp invitation came. December. Two weeks over winter break."
She goes very still. "December."
"Yeah. They want Ashton and me just to—I don't know—see how we fit with the team. Work with their coaches. It's not a guarantee of anything, but it's the next step."
"So it's real then." Her voice is quiet. "This whole Seattle thing. It's really happening."
"Maybe. I don't know. I haven't decided yet."
"Decided what? Whether to go to dev camp?"
"Whether I want this. Any of it." I turn to face her fully. "I wanted to talk to you about it. Get your thoughts."
"My thoughts?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Declan, this is your career. Your dream. What do my thoughts matter?"
"They matter because you matter. Because whatever I decide affects both of us."
She pulls her hand away, standing up to pace. "I'm not going to be the reason you turn down an opportunity like this."
"I'm not asking you to be. I'm just asking what you think."
"What do I think?" She spins to face me. "I think it's terrifying. I think the idea of you being three thousand miles away makes me want to throw up. I think I just got you back, and now you might be leaving again."
My head drops because I knew this was what she was feeling. “I know.”
"But I also think—" Her voice cracks. "I also think you'd regret it forever if you didn't go. If you turned this down because of me."
"What if I didn't regret it? What if staying is what I actually want?"
"Is it?" She searches my face. "Or are you just scared?"
The question hits too close to home.
"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe both."
