Anger.
Gratitude.
Loss.
Hope, dangerous and unwelcome.
One thing is painfully clear now: Seeing Ollie again didn’t close the door. It reminded me it was never locked.
And whether I choose to walk through it or finally walk away, I can’t keep standing still.
7
OLLIE
“Say it again,”Eric says, like if I repeat it, I’ll magically change my mind.
I stare out over the Minneapolis Riverfront from the windows of my loft, phone pressed to my ear, the water washed in pale winter late-morning light. It’s All-Star break. Which means six clean days with no practices, no media obligations I can’t shrug off, and no locker room eyes on me.
Six days that suddenly feel like a cliff edge.
“I’m done after this season,” I say, voice lower than it should be. “I’m retiring.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then Eric exhales. He sounds resigned, like he’s been watching a train approach the station for months and is finally hearing the brakes squeal.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I hear you.”
My grip constricts on the phone. “You’re not surprised.”
“I’m your agent, not your mother,” he replies dryly. “I pay attention.”
I swallow hard, throat burning, ignoring how close to the truth he is about my mom not having even spoken to me in years.
“My shoulder’s fine,” I lie automatically.
Eric makes a sound—not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. “Ollie.”
I close my eyes.
He doesn’t need me to say it. He’s seen the minutes management. The way I’m careful about contact. The way my shooting motion stiffens when it’s cold. The way I keep that arm taped longer than I need to, and how I avoid certain movements in training.
He knows.
“I’m not saying it’s catastrophic,” he says more gently. “But it’s not 100 percent either, and we both know you’ve been keeping it quiet.”
My stomach twists.
“Look,” he continues, business voice clicking into place, “contract’s up at the end of this season. That makes it cleaner. We can make it your decision. Your timing. You can go out with dignity. We’ll talk to the GM quietly first, keep it internal until you’re ready.”
My heart pounds so hard it hurts. “You’ll handle it?”
“That’s what you pay me for,” he says, and then he softens again. “Are you sure, Ollie?”
No.
Yes.
I stare at my reflection in the window. The face staring back looks older than I feel, tired around the eyes. Captain. Leader. The guy everyone expects to keep going forever.
