Page 217 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

Walks through town.

Texts after appointments.

Conversations that have nothing to do with shoulder mobility or pain levels.

The ordinary pieces of my week that no longer feel ordinary at all.

“You mean our friendship.”

“I mean the boundaries that became blurred.”

The clinical word lands harder than anger would have.

Blurred.

As though everything between us has been a mistake neither of us noticed soon enough.

“I didn’t think being your friend was a problem.”

“It isn’t.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Then why are you acting like it has to end?”

Annette looks toward the window in the door. Her voice is quieter when she answers.

“Because your life is about to become very full again.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It is the answer.”

“No. It’s a schedule.”

Her eyes flash. “Your schedule matters. You’ll be traveling. Playing. Doing interviews and appearances. You’ll be surrounded by teammates, fans, sponsors and everyone who belongs in that world.”

“And you don’t?”

The question escapes before I can soften it. Annette’s face stills.

“That is not what I meant.”

“And again I ask - then what did you mean?”

She looks down. “I mean you won’t need me.”

There it is. The truth, or at least part of it.

I step closer, careful not to crowd her. “Annette, I haven’t needed you only because of my shoulder for a long time.”

Her breath catches, but she shakes her head. “You think that now because I’ve been part of your recovery.”

“I think it because you’re part of my life.”

“Jamie.”