"I know that."
"Do you? Because I'm not sure you've really thought about what it means long-term." He swirls his beer. “You’ll be making a lot of money and living a lifestyle she can't relate to."
"She can visit. I’ll fly her to where I am. And the season is only seven months. That means I can be with her for the other five months and breaks."
Ashton shakes his head. "I'm not trying to be a dick. But these are real questions you need to ask. I think it would be different if you guys were married and settled, but this thing you guys have is pretty new. I don’t know if it has staying power."
"We'll figure it out."
"You need to really think about what a long-distance relationship looks like. You guys can’t sleep one night apart. It’s cute, but maybe a little codependent."
"You think we're doomed."
"I think it's going to be really damn hard. And I think you both need to decide if you're willing to do the work." He looks at me. "Are you?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Okay. But is she?"
I don't have an answer for that.
"What do you think I should do?" I ask. “Are you saying I should marry her before I accept an offer?”
He chuckles. “No. I’m saying you guys just got together. What? Two months. You’re in the honeymoon phase.”
“But I’m pretty certain she’s the one.”
“Pretty certain?”
“As you said, we just got back together.” He stands up. "Go to camp. See what happens. If the NHL is actually an option or if it's just a pipe dream. That should help you decide what you're actually choosing between. No need to get all stressed out about something that won’t happen. No NHL, no worries. You stay here, create a life, and that’s that."
"That feels like keeping my options open. If I don't make it in the NHL, I can fall back on Sutton." I shake my head. "That doesn't feel right."
"It's not about falling back on her. It's about having complete information before you make life-altering decisions." He finishes his beer. "Right now, you're operating on assumptions. Go to camp. Find out if this is real. Then decide."
"And if I do make it? If they offer me a contract?"
"Then you have a harder decision to make. But at least you'll be making it with all the facts."
He's right. I hate that he's right, but he is.
He grins. "Now get out of the pool. We're going to the club tonight, and you need to stop looking like a sad puppy."
"I don't look like a lost puppy."
"You absolutely look like a lost puppy. It's pathetic."
I splash water at him.
That evening, we all get dressed to go out. Crew insists on a club he found on Instagram, saying it is one of the hottest spots. Pierce argues for a more low-key bar. Holden just wants food first.
We compromise: dinner, then the club.
The club is exactly what Crew promised. It’s packed, loud, and there are lights everywhere. The music is so loud I can feel it in my chest.
We get drinks and find a spot on the second floor overlooking the dance floor. The bass thumps through the floor. People are everywhere—dancing, drinking, and shouting over the music.
It should be fun. It should be exactly the escape I needed.
