Page 90 of One Shot

“You know that is a lie. Anything you say or anything you write will come from a place of love.”

He’s right. He’s always right. But this is just the first time I’ve had to truly write about Nick being gone. It will be seen by more people than I will ever meet in my life. It’s a lot of pressure.

“Tell me something about Nick that I don’t know,” Lucas says, trying to spark some ideas for me.

“He wanted a truck so that he never had to have his car reek of hockey equipment,” I blurt out. I’m not sure why that’s the first thing that comes to mind for me. He would throw it in a large storage box attached to the truck bed so nothing would fly freely around the back of his truck. That box was nasty, but inside the car always smelled fresh and sweat-free.

My heart melts at the sound of Lucas’ husky laugh. “That’s very smart of him.”

“I told you Lucas, I’m stuck. I have one paragraph. Distract me, tell me about the meeting with Nashville.”

Lucas lets out a big sigh. Does he not want to tell me? Before I can say anything, he starts talking.

“It was great. Incredible actually. Sicel told me about what they are envisioning for a four-year plan, changing their practice schedule, revamping their community engagement in the general community and the hockey community. Honestly, it sounded almost too good to be true.”

“What do you mean in the hockey community?”

“I’m not supposed to really talk about it since it’s all under an NDA, but it’s exactly what it sounds like. They struggle with being considered a real hockey town being in the south. They want to build more programs and opportunities for youth hockey, high school hockey, and even college hockey programs down the road. For me, it sets them apart from being just another NHL team to play for. It goes beyond me playing hockey. It’s spreading the joy and love hockey can bring.”

“Nick always talked about that too. Did you know he volunteered at youth hockey camps at least twice a year? I swear he started reaching out to them on his own when he was ten to figure out how he couldget involved. What ten-year-old wants to volunteer at youth hockey camps when they are the freaking youth?”

“Sounds like you might have your article, Laur,” Lucas claims.

“How did you do that? I’ve been sitting here writing down every memory and idea I can think of for the past week.”

I am amazed at how talking to him for five minutes brought out the exact memories I needed to write this article about my brother. Nick Bellinger—beyond the hockey player. I am giddy with excitement to finish writing it now.

“Thank you, Lucas.”

“I didn’t do anything, Laur. I just was here to talk to, and I always will be.”

He might be the sweetest man I have ever met.

“You really want to play for Nashville? It’s far from Michigan . . .”

Not that I will be in Michigan most likely after graduation anyways.

“And from my family in Illinois. But I knew if I wanted to play for the NHL, it could and would take me anywhere without much being in my control.”

He pauses, thinking about what to say next.

“I’m not committing or making any decisions until I have to. I still have an entire year. I promise I’ll tell you all of my options and where my head is at.”

“No!” I shout back at him through the phone. “It’s just that . . . I am hopefully going to work for a team, and I don’t want either of us to determine the others’ decision. I love that we both have big dreams and we can chase them together, but I never want to dictate those dreams. Promise me you will make the decision that’s best for you?”

“I don’t want to fight like Liam and Bren are,” Lucas says quietly.

“We won’t. Not if we make the decision up front to wait to tell each other until we have both decided,”

I’m hopeful it could work for us.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asks with deep concern in his voice.

“Yes. I’m positive. It’s going to be difficult, but we will figure it out.”

“We will figure it out when we have to.”

“Exactly, when we have to. But right now, I’m going to finally finish this article about Nick.”

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