“I’m honored.”
“Don’t be too honored too soon,” he says, giving me a fatherly grin. “We plan to work you to the bone for as long as you can play.” He reaches a hand out. “Welcome back to the team, Sean.”
I shake it, still in awe that I’m not here to hold someone else’s post anymore.
I’m here because it’s mine.
“Thanks, Otto. It’s great to be back.”
An understatement if there ever was one, but the truth would be embarrassing.
You made the right choice, and I’ll make you glad of it every day.
Yeah, I’ll save that for my wife.
I step out of the tunnel that leads from Otto’s office back into the arena. My hair’s a little dryer than it was, but it’s still damp fromthe shower, and the chill from the ice is invigorating. My duffel bag hangs from my shoulder, but I feel lighter than I have in … ever, maybe. I didn’t realize until this week how much my doubt—always treating myself like a backup even when no one asked me to—weighed on me all these years.
The arena’s mostly cleared out now, but a dozen or so people still linger in the stands, talking in low voices, their laughter echoing off the empty bleachers.
Lucas and Logan are talking to Kayla’s brothers, while her parents talk to mine.
Scottie’s perched on one of the benches, her phone out as she shows something to Clementine and a few others. And right next to Clementine is a vision in face paint: Kayla.
She’s smiling, chatting easily, but her head is angled toward the tunnel. Like even as she laughs, she’s waiting for the moment I come out.
Waiting for me.
When her eyes flit down and meet mine, she beams so bright, I’m surprised the rink doesn’t melt.
“Sean!” she jumps up and pushes past our friends on her way to the stairs.
A grin stretches across my face. I let the bag slide off my shoulder and take the steps two at a time to meet her halfway. I catch her in my arms when I reach the landing between us.
“I made the team,” I tell her, the words tumbling out in a rush.
She lets out a half-sob of joy, her arms locking around my neck as she laughs and plants kisses all over my cheek. I spin her around once in the air as she laughs.
“Of course you did!” She pulls back just enough to cup my face, her thumbs brushing my jaw. Then she kisses me, quick and fierce.
Around us, the small group of friends and family cheers. Scottie whoops, Lucas hollers, Wes, Hunter, and Gray cheer, and our other friends clap with them.
Fletch is the first person to reach me, and I catch a glimpse of pain behind his smile. “Happy for you, Sean. Couldn’t happen to a better guy.” We clasp hands, and for a flash, I imagine what this must be like for him. Me getting a second chance he’ll never have access to. Fletch is the kind of guy I wish I could hold the door open for, but that one has closed permanently.
I just wish he could let himself believe that when one door closes …
“You know,” Kayla says, “I told Fletch if he can start smiling a little, I’ll make him the head coach for real.”
I look at my friend. “So you’re already looking for a new job, then, huh?”
Fletch chuckles and shakes his head. “You suck.” He claps my shoulder and then goes back up to his seat. Others are waiting to congratulate me, and I smile and shake hands with our friends and family. I give hugs and high fives.
I’ve been part of a lot of big wins before, but I’m not sure I’ve ever let myself feel it like this or let myself believe that the cheers were actually for me.
I feel it now.
“The rest of the group left to get Chick-fil-A,” Kayla says apologetically when I’ve given out my last hug. “I told them you’d be the first person Otto talked to because he’d want to give the good news first, but Miss Loretta insisted she couldn’t wait another minute for that mac and cheese. Between you and me, I think she’s getting it for Sunday’s potluck.”
I laugh and press my forehead to Kayla’s, letting the noise of the arena wash over me—the laughter, the cheers, the steady hum of belonging.
