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And I wince.
Not because of my side, my body revolting from all these years of sport.
But because I’m not there next to them, not dancing to the music blaring through the arena.
That I’m literally on the wrong side of the glass, so I can’t do that.
My eyes drift to the side, and I see Stefan on his feet as well, but he’s not dancing.
He’s looking at me, concern rippling over his expression.
Worried about my side.
Meanwhile, he should be worried about my heart.
I always thought that you’d be right here.
Frankie’s voice slides through my mind, and I freeze.
I’d always thought right here meant the crease, the ice, the locker room. Until Frankie had put the idea of coaching in my head.
No, until I’d lost everything.
Until I’d stood on the outside, looking in, missing out on my old life, my beautiful future.
The whistle blows and I jerk?—
“You good, Brit?” the ref calls.
I inhale, force a smile, and wave at Rox who notices me looking, at Dan who nods encouragingly. My gaze slides back to Stefan’s and my breath catches.
The outside looking in.
He’s been that for a long time—ever since he retired and I kept playing.
And…I exhale.
I get it.
I do.
I think I finally do.
Because…soon enough I’m going to be on the other side of the glass, and?—
“Brit?”
I exhale again, nod sharply to drop my helmet back down, and I feel the pieces inside me settle.
Soon enough.
But not now.
Then I turn to the ref who’s skated over, grin at him through my mask. “Just waving to my fans,” I tell him, moving into position.
The ref chuckles. “Can’t rush that,” he teases and then skates over to get ready for the puck drop.
I suck in a breath.
