Page 147 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

I look back.

"Coach called after you left."

"What'd he say?"

Colby's grin widens. "He wants you back Tuesday."

I blink. "For therapy?"

"No." A pause. "For practice."

Before I can ask another question, he laughs. "Not on the ice. Just..." He points toward an imaginary bench. "...behind it."

Then he's gone.

His taillights disappear around the bend, leaving me alone beneath a sky scattered with winter stars.

I stand there for another moment, letting the quiet settle around me. When I unlock the cabin door, the familiar scent of home greets me.

I hang my coat on the hook beside the door, set my keys in the bowl on the entry table, then almost without thinking, I carry the coaching headset into the kitchen.

It rests lightly in my hand. A simple piece of equipment. Plastic. Foam. A microphone. Nothing remarkable about it.

Yet tonight it reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten. I’m still useful. I set it carefully on the kitchen counter, not tucked away in a drawer and not tossed onto a chair. It’s right there where I'll see it in the morning.

A slow smile finds its way across my face. For a couple of hours...I hadn't been recovering.

I hadn't been counting degrees of motion. I hadn't been wondering whether I'd ever wear the captain's "C" on the ice again.

I'd simply been the captain.

When I switch on the lamp beside the fireplace, golden light fills the room.

After dinner I settle into my chair beside the fire and reach for the notebook. It waits on the coffee table exactly where I left it yesterday morning. The cover is beginning to soften around the edges from being opened so often. Funny, when Annette first suggested I write things down, I thought it sounded like homework. She had to practically bribe me into writing in this thing.

Now...I'm not sure how I would've made it through the last few months without it. I settle back into the chair and open to a clean page. The date goes in the upper corner almost automatically. For a long moment I simply look at the paper.

Then I lower the pen.

Today's Win. Remembered I still belong.

Someone I Encouraged. Ethan.

I think about the way his shoulders relaxed after one conversation.

Funny. Leadership isn't always knowing the right answer.

Sometimes it's simply reminding someone that they are more than their last mistake.

Something I’m Grateful For.

I pause. Then simply write:

Annette.

I don’t even realize I’ve written it until I’m staring at the word.

Annette.