Page 111 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

We both laugh. The sound surprises me. Not because we're laughing. But because it feels...normal.

For a little while I'm not Captain Walker. I'm not recovering from surgery. I'm not counting degrees of shoulder motion or wondering when I'll skate again. I'm just sharing coffee with someone whose company I've quietly started looking forward to.

The realization slips in so naturally I almost miss it. It isn't the coffee. It never has been. It's the conversation. It’s her.

Annette glances toward the clock on the wall. "I should probably get back."

"Yeah."

Neither of us moves right away.

She notices.

"So..."

"So..."

She smiles. "We're both procrastinating."

"A little."

She stands, gathering her empty cup. "I'll see you next Tuesday."

I nod. Then catch myself. "Actually..."

She waits.

"You're working Monday too, aren't you?" Her eyebrows rise slightly. "I am."

I try to sound casual. "I thought I remembered seeing it on the schedule."

"You have an excellent memory." Her smile lingers for a second longer than usual.

"Then..." she says quietly, "...I'll see you Monday." She turns and starts toward the therapy wing.

Halfway across the café she tucks that same loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

I watch her disappear around the corner.

Only then do I realize...I've been smiling. And I don't seem to know how to stop.

***

The hallway outside the café is quieter than it was an hour ago.

The lunch rush has started somewhere deeper in the hospital, leaving only the distant murmur of conversations and the occasional squeak of rubber soles against polished floors.

Annette walks beside me, her tablet tucked comfortably beneath one arm.

Neither of us seems to be in a hurry.

"Would you tell me more about why you chose rehabilitation? Was there something or someone specific?"

For a moment neither of us speaks. Finally, she continues.

"When I was finishing nursing school, a high school soccer player came through the trauma unit after a knee injury."

She folds her arms loosely. "He was one of those kids everybody remembered."