Page 126 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

Funny.

I've heard twenty thousand fans cheer my name.

I've skated beneath television lights.

I've worn the captain's "C" in sold-out arenas.

None of those welcomes feel as good as hearing those three simple words.

"Morning."

She walks toward me with her tablet tucked beneath one arm. "Ready to make me proud today?"

"I thought I already had."

"You have." She smiles. "But I have very high standards."

"I was afraid of that."

She laughs. "Come on, caa... "

She starts to say Captain, then catches herself.

A teasing smile touches her lips.

"I mean..." She looks directly into my eyes. "...Jamie."

For reasons I can't quite explain, I like hearing that even more.

***

The first fifteen minutes of therapy unfold exactly the way they've begun for the past several weeks.

Annette checks my range of motion, compares today's measurements to last week's, and nods with quiet satisfaction. I work through the stretching routine without trying to bargain for extra repetitions, and she rewards my unusual restraint with a smile that says she's noticed.

"I may have to revise my opinion of hockey players," she says.

"I wouldn't rush into anything."

"I wasn't planning to."

"I appreciate your caution."

She records another note in my chart. "You've earned that."

The words warm me more than I expect. Progress has become strangely addictive. Not because I need another number or another milestone, but because each small improvement feels like another piece of normal life returning.

We move to the cable station. The resistance is still light, but enough to make the shoulder work instead of simply moving through the motions. I finish the first set, pause exactly where she tells me to pause, and lower my arm under control.

She looks genuinely pleased. "I don't believe it."

"What?"

"You stopped when I asked."

"I can be taught."

"We'll put that in your permanent record."