“I’ve got doctors,” I say carefully. “Specialists. People who know this stuff inside and out.”
His brows lift, cautious hope flickering.
“I’m not saying anything yet,” I add quickly. “I need to think. Talk with them. Make sure it’s feasible.” Because the last thing these kids need is a half-solution that disappears when things get complicated.
But the idea keeps building anyway.
Rotational clinics. Telehealth consults. Baseline cognitive testing. Education sessions that don’t talk down to them. A system that treats them like athletes and kids with futures.
And if I involve Amy? Hell, my queen would tear through the logistics like a force of nature. But first, I need to lay out what these kids need.
“I don’t want to get ahead of myself,” I finish. “But…maybe there’s a way to bridge the gap.”
Collins doesn’t smile. He doesn’t push.
He just nods, slow and steady. “Whatever comes of it, I appreciate you even considering it.”
I stand, shaking his hand.
“And Brennan?” he adds. “As athletes, we don’t always realize how much weight we carry alone. It helps to let other people in. Happy to be a sounding board if you need one.”
I think of everything I’ve shared with Dr. Halvorsen and immediately wonder if there’s anything similar for the students. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “Thanks.”
Stepping out into the hallway, the echo of gym lockers and distant laughter wraps around me. Kids race by, arguing about being late for their next class because they had to change out. Some discussing practice drills they just endured; others homework.
But what it boils down to is they deserve better.
Coach knows it. I know it. Maybe, I can help make it real.
But first, I need to be sure.
Because if I bring this to the table, it won’t just be an idea.
It’ll be a commitment to the kids, to this town.
To Amy.
In my heart, I know it’s one I’ve already made.
30
CROSS-ICE FEED: A LATERAL PASS ACROSS THE ZONE TO MOVE THE GOALIE
Deciding to invite Brennan to the Willow Creek Faculty Halloween party was a big step. It’s the entwining of my past, my present, and potentially my future.
When we spoke Tuesday, I blurted out the invitation.
“Are you free Saturday?”
“For you? Always.”
“Are you up for a party?”
“What kind of party?” I hear the hesitancy in his voice and immediately understand why.
I jump in to reassure him. “Low key. I want you to meet my coworkers—other than the athletics department.”
“I’d love to.”
