Page 80 of The Save

What if no one signed up? Or worse, what if so many people did, we couldn’t accommodate them? What if I poured everything into it and then had to walk away in November?

Oxford had always been the dream. The big golden ticket. I’d been shaping my life around it for years. But the idea of leaving, especially now that I had the green light on this project, made my stomach twist. Would I have to drop this and never know if it could have worked?

I shoved the can into the bag and cleared my throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Rob looked over, curious. “Sure.”

“How did you do it?” I kept my voice light, but the question felt anything but. “How did you change direction? You worked so hard for that spot on the travel team then gave it up in a second.”

He didn’t answer right away, just tied off the trash bag. “It took more than a second to make that decision.” He walked over and set the bag next to the back corner of the barn. “It felt like a hard decision to make when I took everyone else’s ideas into account.”

“What do you mean?”

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Everyone else thought this was the best thing for me. Everyone else had heard me talk about this scouting opportunity, about my dream to push to pro.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Everyone knew Logan had just made it and I hadn’t.”

I slipped my hands into my back pockets. That sounded familiar.

“But if I let go of that and looked at my own thoughts, it was simple.” He shrugged. “The second I saw that pregnancy test, hockey wasn’t my dream anymore. So I didn’t have to give it up. Just got to start chasing something new.”

_____

I thanked Crystal for the ride—it felt so weird that she was driving me now—and hurried inside my apartment. The lights were off, so I slipped off my shoes and crept down the hall, not wanting to wake anyone.

In my room, the glow from the streetlight edged past the curtains and painted a bright line across my desk. And there they were. Exactly where I’d left them: the Rhodes application on one side, the proposal from Lamont on the other.

Dropping my purse next to the chair, I sat on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes. What I would’ve given to have Chase there running a hand up my arm, telling my mind to be still. I did the best I could in his absence, forcing myself to notice the quilt beneath my palms, the carpet under my feet.

“No, thank you,” I whispered to the hundreds of thoughts still clamouring for attention, raising a din over the past two weeks. Being with Chase didn’t solve my overthinking, but simply knowing there was another option was enough to make me stronger.

I could do this, at least in part. As my mind settled, I listened to Rob’s advice.What did I think?

I’m not sure how long I sat there, but once the clouds began to part, it was exactly as Rob described.

Easy.

I turned on the desk lamp and sat down, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. I started with Chase’s name, then let everything pour out of me.

When I finished, I set the pen down and picked up my application, sealed in its envelope. Then, I dropped it into the trash.

Chapter

Thirty

At the end of July,I stood at the edge of the ice under the Dome with a clipboard in my hand and only a small pit in my stomach. The lights buzzed overhead. I’d never seen the ice from this angle behind the bench.

The bleachers were mostly empty—just a handful of friends and volunteers—but the players were already trickling in, sticks in their hands, duffels, skates, and helmets slung over their shoulders.

I’d started with Douglas alumni, working from a list of emails and phone numbers Lamont provided. We had enough for two full rosters, and this was our first official scrimmage.

Crystal handed out name tags Sharpied onto pieces of masking tape. I was positive she’d offered to take this job specifically so she could check out all the players. It was a baller move.

Sharla and Rob couldn’t be there, but they’d contacted over a third of my initial list. To my surprise, Blakely and Kaplan both showed up tonight. I’d made it clear I didn’t expect them to coach, but having them here allowed me to stop wearing my shoulders as earrings.

At seven o’clock, I cleared my throat and stepped into the group of players near the benches. “Alright, everyone, thanks for coming. You’re here because you love the game and don’t want it to end just because school or life or careers got in the way. As I mentioned on the phone and over email, this league isn’t built yet. Today’s a scrimmage, but my goal is to make this high level and competitive. That said, we’re going to build it together, so whatever it becomes, it’ll reflect you. Your needs, your voices, your goals. I have some basic logistics here—game dates, draft ideas, tiers depending on skill level. But nothing is set in stone. If this works, it’s becausewemake it work.”

A few heads nodded. One guy with long curls raised a hand. “Does the league have a name?”

I hesitated, glancing at Crystal. I hadn’t said these particular words out loud to anyone, not wanting to jinx it. “I was thinking the Elite League.”

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