Me:Yes, Mom.
Three dots appear, disappear.
Mom:I’m proud of you.
I lock my phone and lean my head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. I wish my dad were here. He’d tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself. He’d say pain is temporary and legacies last forever. He’d always pushed me to be the best, to get up even when things got tough. My dad was my biggest fan, and the truth is… without him, I would’ve never made it to the NHL. I would have never gotten to be the Storm’s number one right winger. My life would be drastically different if my dad hadn’t been there to shove me in the right direction. I miss him every god damn day.
The game was rough. Kind of like how I’m feeling right now honestly. I want to say I’m shocked, but I’m not. These boys don’t have enough drive, not yet.
We lost by one point, and the boys are pissed. They should be, that was God awful. They played like absolute dog piss.
“You had them,” I tell them in the locker room after. “You let off the gas. That’s on you.”
They nod, breathing heavy, sweat dripping. They know I’m right.
When the bus finally pulls back onto campus late that night, exhaustion weighs down my bones. I’m ready for a long shower and my bed. Game days are always a lot, but when you’re the coach, it feels different. Like everyone is counting on you to make sure the team wins.
The house is dark when I unlock the door, making sure I stay quiet in case Ellie’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake her. It’ll probably just piss her off more.
I toe off my shoes and head to the kitchen for water. As I twist the cap open, I notice something on the counter.
A plate, covered with foil.
I stare at it like it might disappear, blinking a few times.
Underneath the foil is pasta. Still warm enough to steam faintly. No note. No explanation.
Just food.
My chest tightens.
I lean against the counter, staring at the plate longer than is reasonable, something dangerously close to gratitude swelling in my throat. Ellie has always taken care of people without asking for anything in return. I think acts of kindness might be her love language.
I eat slowly, like if I rush it, the moment will break. When I’m done, I wash the plate, dry it, and set it carefully back where I found it.
Hesitantly, I grab a pen and a scrap of paper.
‘Thanks. J’
I leave it beside the sink, hoping it doesn’t feel like too much.
Later, lying in bed, knee throbbing, ceiling staring back at me, I let myself think about her. About the way she stood in front of her class, commanding the room. About the way she looked at me like I was both familiar and foreign. About how she didn’t soften when I apologized, but she didn’t shutthe door completely either. That scares me more than her anger ever did.
Because if there’s still space between us, even a small one, I don’t trust myself not to step into it.
I turn onto my side, jaw tight. I came here to heal. To wait out the injury. To figure out what comes next if hockey is no longer my life. I did not come here to fall back in love with the girl I broke.
As sleep finally drags me under, one thought repeats louder than the rest.
I don’t think I’ll have a choice.
Chapter 10
Ellie
M
y stomach is in knots, and I feel slightly nervous as I set my things on the table that sits directly in front of the stage. It’s audition day, and even though I’m not the one auditioning, I still feel like I could throw up.
