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CHAPTER 37
SEAN
Rehabbing sucks. I don’t know why it is called rehab. That sounds nice. This should be called athletic-torture, or better yet, testing-whether-or-not-your-career-is-worth-it-to-you. The days of rehabilitation blur into an agonizing routine, an unending cycle of physical discomfort and mental strain. It is more like a relentless gauntlet, a test of my dedication to a career that I once thought defined me.
And I show up every single day. Do the exercises with the physical therapist and the team trainer.
Typically, torn rotator cuffs take more than six weeks to heal, but I’ve been consistent in my rehabbing.
I refuse to sit out the rest of the season.
The pain is a constant companion, a reminder that my body, once invincible on the ice, is now vulnerable and in need of repair. The sting of each exercise serves as a cruel paradox—I'm mending, but in doing so, I'm also questioning the very foundation of my identity.
After weeks of relentless effort, the verdict is in— I'm making progress. The physical therapists commend my commitment, acknowledging the small victories in the battle against my own limitations. The assistant coaches have been around, offering encouragement, but Coach Matt, the one whose opinion matters most, has been elusive. Today, however, he makes an appearance.
“I’m not taking your spot away, Daniels,” Coach Matt says, a reassuring tone in his voice that loosens the knot in my chest. “You earned that. And it’d take a lot more than a few missed games to take that away.”
His words, meant to comfort and assure, momentarily lift the weight off my shoulders. Maybe I won't lose everything, I think optimistically. However, reality hits hard— the one thing I have truly lost, the happiness that came from being with Astrid, is irreplaceable.
A pit of regret forms in my chest. I pushed Astrid away, convinced that it was a sacrifice for my career, only to realize that my priorities were skewed. Hockey may be my passion, my livelihood, but it is not the essence of my existence. The realization gnaws at me— a stark reminder of the irreversible choices I've made.
Determined not to let this slip away, I decide it’s time to fight for Astrid. Just as I fought for my place in hockey, I will wage a battle for the woman who means more to me and my daughter than anything else. I yearn for more than just a reconciliation; I want to build a family with Astrid. It is a longing that has taken root, a yearning that refuses to be silenced.
I won’t waste a second opportunity with her. And I refuse to let my fear of what could go wrong stop me from doing what I know is right.
With a newfound purpose, I leave the rehabilitation facility, my body weary but my mind resolute. Time is of the essence. I need to see Astrid before it’s too late before the chasm I’ve created between us widens beyond repair. As I drive towards her, I reflect on the hurdles I've overcome on the ice and brace myself for the uphill climb that lies ahead— convincing Astrid that my fight for her is genuine and unwavering.
CHAPTER 38
ASTRID
When the doorbell rings, I swallow the bit of bile that creeps up my throat. The new nanny. I take a steadying breath before I open the front door. God, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I smooth my hair and practice my smile. It’s not her fault this is happening, I remind myself. I don’t want to take it out on her.
I muster all the positivity that I can as I grip the doorknob.
“Hi,” I greet her with what I hope is my most cheerful tone. “You must be Silvia. I’m Astrid.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Astrid.” Silvia shakes my hand with a firm grip.
I take in the woman’s appearance. She’s normal, older than Sean by at least twenty years, with a wedding ring on her left hand. Not someone hired to replace me in his life. I hate to admit, but a part of me was worried that Sean wanted someone… different from me. Like maybe this was all because I wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
“Come in,” I say, opening the door wider for her to follow inside.
I feel guilty immediately. I haven’t prepared anything for her in terms of Violet’s schedule. I was too busy worrying about Sean. In my head it had become this whole thing. In my experience, when a guy says that they’re not able to have a relationship, it means something entirely different. But with Sean, it appears that he was telling the truth.
Which makes me a terrible person, because I was ready to judge this woman that I’ve never even met before. And no matter how disappointed I am in myself, I still can’t help the bit of relief that washes over me.
“This is a beautiful home,” Silvia says as I lead her through the foyer.
“It really is. Everything is nice and open. That’s the hall to the garage,” I say, pointing towards the door.
“What’s that other door?” she asks.
My home. “The basement.” I keep moving. “So here’s the kitchen and the living room, obviously.” I look around us. “Over that way is the theatre room.” I point to the right.
I watch her mouth the word ‘wow.’
“I know, that was my reaction too.” I try to stop the memories from playing across my mind. “And upstairs is Violet’s room, and the spare bedroom.” I shift back and forth. “I think Sean mentioned that you could keep some of your personal things in there for when you stay over.”
