Page 91 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

For a while neither of us says much. The road winds between snow-covered pines, the frozen lake glimmering through the trees whenever the forest opens. Morning sunlight turns the fresh snow almost silver.

Normally I'd love this drive. Normally I'd be heading toward the arena.

Toward practice. Toward the guys.

Instead, I'm heading toward therapy. Different destination. Different job.

***

Colby seems to understand the silence doesn't need fixing.

That's one of the things I've always appreciated about him.

He talks when talking helps, he doesn't when it doesn't.

About twenty minutes into the drive, the Frostholm skyline begins appearing beyond the trees.

Traffic begins to thicken. Coffee shops. Office buildings. The familiar landmarks of a city I've driven through thousands of times.

Then...the arena comes into view.

Even from the highway I recognize the banners hanging outside. The giant Blizzard crest, employee vehicles turning into the players' entrance, and equipment staff unloading crates near the loading dock.

A television van is parked beside the media entrance for the morning skate. I don't mean to watch, but I do anyway.

For a few seconds I forget to breathe. Colby doesn't look over immediately. He keeps driving, lets me have the moment. Only after the arena disappears in the side mirror does he speak.

"Hard?"

One word. That's all. I nod. "Yeah."

Silence again. Not uncomfortable.

Just...honest.

Finally, I say, "It feels strange."

"What does?"

"They're getting ready for practice."

He waits.

"And I'm..." I search for the right word. "Going somewhere else."

Colby drums his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

"You know what I think?"

"I probably don't."

"I think you're still going to practice."

I look over. "This one just looks different."

I consider that. Therapy. Exercises. Movement. Learning how to lift my arm again. Those are not exactly faceoffs and breakaways.

"No sticks. No skates. No ice."