Page 9 of Westward

I let out a breath. “You guys will be the first to know when it’s time to retire. I promise.”

In reality, it shouldn’t be time for retirement. Many of the people my age felt as if they were on fire and scoring more than ever, or blocking, in this case. It wasn’t that I was out of my prime or truly an old man when it came to playing hockey professionally. But I was soul tired. I wanted to figure out the next phase of my life, and I didn’t think it was hockey.

Which scared the shit out of me.

“As long as you don’t wait a week to tell us,” my mom said, not unkindly, pulling me out of my familiar aching thoughts.

My lips tipped into a smile. “I’m an old man on the ice, and that kid out there is fucking amazing. Seriously, I should hate him for how good he is.”

“Those young bucks on the ice are so ridiculously talented, and with full lung capacity,” my brother teased.

“Excuse me. You’re older than me,” I said dryly.

“I’m the young whippersnapper in terms of bartender years. Eventually, I’ll go gray and be the old, grizzled man behind the bar. You’re already the old man on the ice.”

“You’re lucky I’m still in concussion protocol, or I would kick your ass right now.”

“No fighting in my house, or on my property,” Mom said with a laugh. “I’m finally able to have lamps in my house again without fear of one of you breaking them. Please do not force me to kick you both out.”

“It was Felicity who broke the last lamp,” Rune said quickly.

“Hey! I can’t believe you just said that. You’re the one who threw the ball at me. It’s not my fault that I ducked.”

“Why were you throwing a ball in the house, Rune?” my mom asked.

Felicity and Rune began to fight, and I just leaned against the wall, smiling.

This is why I was home. I needed the familiarity. I loved my family and never wanted to be far from them. Not anymore. I had a year left in me, I knew it. Most of the people in this room and on the ice knew it. Maybe they thought I would continue on, but Jacob wouldn’t last on the bench forever. He was already taking my spot in the net when we were up by enough points. Jacob was damn good, and the world knew it.

A first-round draft pick who was my replacement.

I needed one last swan song, and then I would be ready for the ice. I stood up, ignoring the twinge in my knee.

The media were already asking if my career was over. They had gotten a photo of me with ice on my knee and were leaning hard into my demise.

I didn’t want to think about that right then. Instead, I interrupted the friendly bickering, kissed my mother on the cheek, did the same to Felicity, punched Rune in the side gently, and hugged my dad hard.

“I’m heading back to the house. I’m ready to just relax for a bit before I have to do full PT and training again.”

“I guess it’s time for you to work on that sad little beer gut of yours.” My dad patted my eight-pack, and I grinned.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I work hard on that extra layer for warmth.”

Dad just snorted, and I said my goodbyes once again and got in the car.

Ashford Creek wasn’t that big, but we now had two streetlights. Well, maybe more now that I thought about it. There had been two streetlights a couple of years ago. I had missed more than a few town halls. For all I knew, there was a major highway going through town. I shuddered at the thought, even though I lived in downtown Portland. I liked the calmness of the town, though it had its own kind of wildness. Completely opposite of the city, but something I needed.

I pulled into my driveway and realized that I didn’t have my garage door opener. I sold my old truck the year before and hadn’t bought a new one for town yet. I was borrowing one of Callum’s spare trucks, since the man loved collecting them, and that meant I got to think about what I wanted next.

I turned to the house next to mine and looked at the back porch, my throat tightening. Well then, I had a lot of things to think about when it came to what was next. Instead of going inside, I moved towards the property next door without even thinking. It was as if my feet led me there without pause, without need.

Lizzie sat on the porch swing, feet tucked under her, with an iced tea in a mason jar in her hands.

She didn’t have shoes on, and her hair was piled on top of her head. She wore a sundress in that soft yellow color I loved on her. Hell, I loved every color on her.

I’ve loved Elizabeth Ellis since I was old enough to realize what love was and perhaps before that.

Finding this new Elizabeth, one that I had been blessed to be on the periphery of, but not fully with, was something I needed to do.