Page 90 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

The question hangs in the quiet cabin. I don't answer it. I can't.

Instead, I walk to the mudroom. For one long moment I simply stand there looking at the jersey.

Then...I quietly close the door. Not because I don't love hockey.

Because this morning, I can't bear looking at it.

The soft click of the latch echoes through the cabin. I rest my forehead against the door for just a second. Behind me, the coffee finishes brewing.

Ahead of me...I have another therapy session. One more day. One more inch. It doesn't feel like enough.

Today, it has to be.

***

The knock comes exactly at eight-thirty. Not a minute early. Not a minute late.

I already know who it is. Nobody else knocks three times, waits exactly two seconds, then knocks once more.

Colby.

I pull on my winter coat, work carefully around the sling, and open the front door. Cold air slips inside.

"So," Colby says, looking me over. "You still look terrible."

I snort. "Liam's writing your material now?"

"He offered."

"And?"

"I declined."

"Good choice."

He grins. "I have standards."

"I'm relieved."

"Don't be." He steps aside and nods toward the pickup. "I brought coffee."

Now he has my attention. "Real coffee?"

"I'm offended you'd even ask." He holds up two insulated cups. "One black." He hands it over. "One with enough sugar to qualify as dessert."

I take a careful sip. Hot. Strong. Perfect.

"You may continue driving me."

"I'll let you know when your application is approved."

He laughs as we walk toward the truck. It smells faintly of pine, coffee and whatever air freshener Jillie apparently convinced him to buy. A tiny snowman hangs from the rearview mirror. I point at it. "You?"

He glances up. "Nope, Jillie."

He starts the engine. The heater hums to life as we pull away from the cabin.

***