Page 109 of Worth the Shot

“Are you sure?” he asks, like I might ruin his entire childhood if I say no.

“Let’s do it, buddy.”

I sign the puck. Sign his jersey. We take a few pictures—a big smile from him, a small one from me, because I’m still learning how to smile without it hurting. His mom shakes my hand after to thank me, telling me to heal fast because “we need you out there.” I want to tell her I’m not sure the team needs me at all right now but I just nod, give her a soft smile, and head toward my truck.

When I pull in, I notice Delaney’s car sitting in her newly assigned spot. I had to lock that down a few weeks ago when I realized she would, in fact, be here five nights a week. She’s been here every day she isn’t working, and sometimes before or after her shifts on the days she is. I know it has to be exhausting, but she never lets it show. Especially that first week, when even breathing the wrong way was enough to take me out.

But now?

The only pain I feel is the one sitting heavy in my chest when I think about the possibility of disappointing the team, the fans…and especially her, if I can’t be the player I’m supposed to be when it matters most. I try to shake the thought off as I head inside, and the second I see her, it almost works. She worked a twenty-four-hour shift yesterday and got home this morning, right after I had to leave for practice, and now she’s curled up, asleep on the couch, like she didn’t even make it past sitting down. I set my keys on the counter as quietly as I can before crossing the room, and then I scoop her up in one smooth motion. Her head drops against my chest, her arms wrapping loosely around my neck as she breathes me in, eyes still closed because she already knows it’s me. A soft, exhausted sound slips from her, and something in my chest gives.

“Shhh,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I carry her into my room, lay her down in my bed, and tuck her in, brushing her hair back from her face as she settles in. She snuggles deeper into the pillows, her breathing evening out almost instantly as she drifts back off, and I stay there for a second longer than I need to before quietly stepping back and shutting the door behind me.

I stand at the island, debating on whether I should watch old tapes from the beginning of the season or call my sister back. She’s called three times in the last few days, and I know if I don’t call her soon she’ll send a wellness check to my door. I decide not to torture myself with old tapes and I grab my phone. It feels heavier than it should in my hand as I stare at her name on the screen. Three missed calls. I should’ve called her back sooner. I exhale, push off the counter, and hit call. She picks up on the second ring.

“Brennan.” No joke in it. No teasing. Just my name.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“You okay?” she asks, and there’s something in her voice that makes my chest tighten. “You don’t ignore me three times unless something’s wrong.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Dodging three of my calls in two days feels a lot like ignoring,” she cuts in, not harsh, but firm.

I swallow, leaning back against the counter. “I got back on the ice today.”

She pauses. “And?”

I drag a hand down my face. “I don’t know. I feel off. Like I’m half a step behind everything, and I can’t tell if it’s in my head or if it’s real, but either way…it’s not great timing.”

“Of course it’s not,” she says gently. “You just got cleared after taking a puck to the face, Brennan. Your body’s still catching up.”

“Playoffs are coming, Katie. I don’t have time for that.”

There’s a pause.

“And what are you really worried about?” she asks quietly.

I hesitate. Then I let it out. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“Delaney?” she says, softer now.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Katie says, steady and calm. “Tell me how one practice turns into you losing Delaney.”

I let out a breath. “Because what if I can’t get back to where I was? What if I’m not…that guy right now? Or worse, what if I can’t be again?”

“What guy?” she asks, even though she already knows.

“Brennan Hale. Top ten forward. The version of me people actually want around.”

There’s a silence that stretches between us for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice sharpens. Not at me, but for me.

“No,” she says. “We’re not doing that.”

I frown. “Katie⁠—”