Page 108 of Facing the Line

Hunter blinks. “And…how did you do that?”

How does he not know? He was there. Isn’t it something everyone discussed? “I blew the Frozen Four game. We lost because of me.”

Evan shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“I missed the shot. I could have won the game for us, but I missed.”

“I was out there on that ice, too.” Evan tosses his hair out of his face. “If you’re to blame, then I am, too. Or Cooper. He made the pass to you. Maybe his angle was off.”

“It wasn’t.”

Evan straightens on his barstool. “I’m the one who let Quinnipiac get the puck in overtime. I wasn’t there to connect with you. If you need to blame someone, blame me.”

“I’m not?—”

“If you’re going to think like that,” Hunter drawls, cutting me off, “It could just as easily be my fault.”

“You weren’t even playing.”

“Exactly. If I hadn’t gotten injured, I probably would have been. It could have been me instead of you. The whole season could have been different.”

“Well…” That’s a stretch.

“See? If you keep going down this path, it gets murky. Because it’s not any one persons’ fault. We’re a team. We win and lose as a team.”

I grasp onto that one. “That’s why I upped my workouts. The team deserves the best I can give.”

“Nah, Jonas. That’s not how it works. Everyone was still there for me after I broke my leg and didn’t have anything to contribute.” He’s right. I don’t have anything to say to that. Hunter continues. “The guys will have your back, no matter what, but don’t give your best out of guilt. Give it for the love of the game.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure I love the game like that. I know I should probably pursue it, but I don’t want to be in the NHL or play with a different team after this. I want to be a nurse.”

“That’s okay.” Evan shrugs. “You don’t owe the NHL anything.”

“I feel like…if I loved it more, I wouldn’t have messed up last season.” I stare at the dark wood of the bar, wishing it held all the answers.

“Nope,” Hunter says, voice firm. “That’s still not how it works. Wouldn’t you have given everything for the team? Haven’t you already proven that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you want to keep playing this year?” he asks.

Do I? I think about the laughter on the bus, the jokes in the locker room. Coming together with a group of men and accomplishing one goal. I love these guys, and I want to give it one more season.

“It’s okay to play because you love being a part of the team, even if you don’t want it to become your life or your career.” Hunter taps the coaster on the bar, then spins it.

“But.” I sneak a glance at Evan, trying to be diplomatic. “What about the guys who’d give everything to have scouts checking them out? Isn’t it, like, unfair of them to waste my talent, or something?”

I’m not saying I’m better than Evan or anyone else on the team. I don’t think he’s harboring a desire to be scouted for the NHL—but I didn’t think that about Cooper, either, and it turned out to be his secret dream.

But Evan runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and levels me with his gaze. Rarely serious, it’s odd to see the steely glint in his eyes. “I think it would be unfair of you to pursue a career that’s not your passion.”

“Yeah.” The truth of his words resonates in my chest. “I guess you’re right.”

I’ve made my career choice, but hearing my best friends affirm it relaxes something that was wound tight inside me. I take a deep breath for the first time in months.

“I’m probably right about the Hadley thing, too,” Evan says, a smug note creeping into his voice.

Hunter pointedly stares into his pint glass. “I’m not hearing this.”

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