Page 88 of Hard Check

"For what?"

"For seeing me and believing in me before I believed in myself."

As we walked off the ice for the last time as teammates, Pike bumped my shoulder. "This isn't goodbye."

"Of course, it's not."

Pike invited me to help with the final packing. We finished around 3 AM. Cardboard boxes sat in neat stacks against one wall, labeled in his careful handwriting: "Clothes," "Books," "Kitchen Stuff."

When we finally crawled into bed together, we both lay staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"Brain won't shut up. What if the team chemistry is terrible? What if I can't keep up with their system? What if—"

"What if you're precisely what they need?" I propped myself up on one elbow. "What if Syracuse knows what they're doing?" I'm scared, Carver."

"Good. Fear means it matters."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"Professional and personal. Fear keeps you sharp. Complacency gets you cut."

Pike reached out for my hand. "What about us? What happens when I'm playing eighty-two games, and you're coaching twenty-three-year-olds who remind you of me at my most annoying?"

It was the question I'd been avoiding, but it was essential to address.

"I'll be in Syracuse. On the road half the time, probably sleeping in hotels that smell like industrial disinfectant and broken dreams."

"Sounds glamorous."

He continued to speak with determination. "I'm not walking away from us. I won't do that. Whatever this costs, and whatever it takes—I'm not walking away."

"Then neither am I," I said simply.

After several more silent minutes, Pike spoke up again. "Logistics. We need to figure out the actual mechanics of this."

"Logistics," Pike said finally. "We need to figure out the actual mechanics of this."

"We'll have FaceTime calls when our schedules align. Texts when they don't. I'll watch your games on whatever streaming service carries Syracuse's regional broadcasts."

He issued a warning. "I'll probably be terrible for the first month, shell-shocked and homesick and overthinking everything."

"I'll remind you to breathe. And eat. And that Lewiston's still here when you need it."

Pike rolled onto his side to face me fully. "What about visits? Syracuse isn't exactly around the corner, but it's not impossible either."

"Six-hour drive. I could manage that on weekends when our schedules line up. Coaching comes with more flexibility than playing, too. We'll make geography work."

Pike's eyes opened wide. "You'd do that? Drive six hours to watch me probably ride the bench for sixty minutes?"

I brushed a strand of hair back from his forehead, "I'd drive to Buffalo to watch you practice if that's what it took."

"What about the off-season? Assuming I don't get sent back down to the minors in disgrace."

"You won't."

"But if—"

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