Page 165 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

“I kept the youth banquet.”

“Good.”

“And practice.”

“Also, good.”

“The rest can wait.”

“It can.”

I glance at the open space on tomorrow’s calendar. “Coach?”

“Yeah?”

“Did the team fall apart while I was in therapy?”

“Liam attempted to hang another poster.”

“So yes.”

“Not entirely.”

I laugh and coach’s tone softens again. “Take the afternoon, Jamie.”

“I don’t know what to do with it.”

“That may be the point.”

The call ends before I can argue.

***

I walk beside the lake without my phone. No notebook, no schedule, and no plan.

The air has warmed enough that the snow along the shoreline has begun collapsing into the dark earth beneath it. Water moves under the thinning ice, faint and steady.

I follow the path behind the cabin until the roof disappears through the pines.

For once, nobody knows exactly where I am. I pause near the water and watch sunlight fade across the lake. Maybe protecting myself is not the opposite of leadership. The empty afternoon no longer feels selfish. It feels necessary.

Later, I stand in the kitchen and look at tomorrow’s calendar. One appointment, rehabilitation.

Nothing before it. Nothing after it.

I smile.

For years, progress meant adding more. More practice. More responsibility. More people depending on me.

Tonight, doing less feels like moving forward.

Chapter twenty-one

Annette

Jamie's therapy finishes earlier than usual.

The session is shorter, but not easier. His shoulder continues improving, and the exercises become more precise with every visit. There is less emphasis on simply getting the joint to move and more on teaching the muscles to work together again.