Page 126 of Off-Limits as Puck

Jerry:WHAT?

Me:You heard me.

Jerry:Reed, you have a guaranteed contract in Boston. Three years. Full no-movement clause. Why would you even consider—

Me:Because maybe what I need isn’t a no-movement clause. Maybe what I need is the right movement.

Me:Call Seattle.

I pull up Chelsea’s contact and type a message I delete three times before sending.

Me:Question. What if we both went to Seattle?

Me:Not following you. Not making your decision for you. Just... what if we both chose something new?

Me:What if we chose each other AND chose our careers?

Me:What if I want us both to win?

I hit send before I can overthink it, then sit back and wait for her to tell me I’m crazy.

But maybe crazy is exactly what we need.

Maybe the safe choice has been the wrong choice all along.

46

Accepting dream jobs turns out to be anticlimactic when you’re doing it over email while wearing pajamas and questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

“Dr. Clark, we’re thrilled to have you join the organization,” the Seattle Icehawks’ GM says through my laptop screen, his enthusiasm crackling through the video call connection. “Your expertise in high-performance psychology is exactly what we need as we build our team culture.”

“Thank you. I’m excited to contribute to what you’re building.”

Excitedis generous. I’m terrified, exhilarated, and simultaneously wondering if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life or finally making the right choice for the right reasons. But excited works as shorthand for the emotional clusterfuck currently occupying my chest cavity.

“We’ll have housing assistance coordinate with you about relocation. January 15th start date still work?”

“Perfect.”

“Excellent. Welcome to the Icehawks family, Dr. Clark.”

After the call ends, I sit in my Phoenix apartment surrounded by moving boxes and the existential weight of major life decisions. Two weeks since Reed suggested we both go to Seattle. Two weeks of logistics and paperwork and the careful dance of two people trying to build something together without losing themselves in the process.

The apartment looks strange half-packed—familiar furniture mixed with cardboard boxes labeled “Kitchen” and “Books” in my careful handwriting. Evidence of a life being carefully disassembled and prepared for transport to somewhere new.

My phone buzzes. Text from Reed.

Reed:How’d the final call go?

Me:Official. I’m now employed by an NHL team again. How’s the Boston situation?

Reed:Complicated. Jerry’s having multiple aneurysms, but Seattle’s interested. Very interested.

Me:Good interested or “we’ll take a chance on the disaster player” interested?

Reed:“We want to build something special, and you might be exactly what we need” interested.

Me:That’s good interested.

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