Page 387 of Power Play

“Call them back,” I told Chris. “I’m signing.”

The Milwaukee representatives returned ten minutes later. Chris reviewed the final changes while Gloria confirmed the date my Frost obligations ended. Waters sat beside me with one ankle resting over his knee as though this were an ordinary meeting instead of the moment I’d chased since I was old enough to understand hockey could become more than a place to disappear.

The representative slid the contract across the table, and a pen followed.

My name waited beneath the signature line.

Ryan Decker.

I stared at it and thought about every other version of my name that had appeared on paper. Foster placements, school registrations, employment forms, lease agreements, scholarship documents, and team contracts had all carried the same questions.

Where would I go next? How long could I stay? What did I have to do to remain useful enough for somebody to keep me?

This contract was different. No one was placing me anywhere or deciding whether I belonged. I’d earned the right to choose.

Waters leaned closer. “Planning to frame the blank line?”

I exhaled a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Sign it, Decker.”

I picked up the pen, and for one second, I saw everything at once.

I saw the kid kicking a ball against an apartment wall because we couldn’t afford much else. My mother telling me my brain was too big for one language. My father dying from an overdose when I was seven. My mother being taken four years later. Foster homes, warehouses, cheap apartments, morning practices before class, and night practices after shifts followed them.

Then came KFU, the Furnace, and Flint. Every mile between where I started and the chair beneath me lived inside that contract.

Charm entered the memories because she existed inside the last stretch of road. I saw her sitting in the stands, reading poetry across my kitchen counter, and sleeping in my bed with one hand tucked beneath her face. I heard her telling me professional hockey would be lucky to have me before any organization knew my name.

The pen nearly stopped.

Three days ago, I would’ve wanted her hand around mine while I signed. Tonight, I had to become the man who could do it without her.

My name moved across the line.

Ryan Decker.

The ink dried almost immediately. Chris exhaled beside me, Gloria smiled, and Waters gripped the back of my neck hard enough to make the moment real.

Across the table, Milwaukee’s representative stood and extended his hand. “Welcome to Milwaukee.”

I rose and took it. “Thank you.”

“We’ll be ready for you when the Frost season ends.”

“I’ll be there.”

The words landed with the force of another final horn. Next season, I would wear professional colors and step onto professional ice. The dream would stop being something scouts discussed in hallways and agents negotiated in conference rooms.

It was mine. I had fucking made it.

Joy rose first, but grief came with it. They collided beneath my ribs with enough force to leave me gripping the representative’s hand longer than necessary. I’d spent my entire life believing this moment would fill every empty place inside me, yet the largest one still carried Charm’s shape.

When the door finally opened, the hallway erupted.

Cade reached me first. One look at Chris’s face told him everything, and he grabbed the front of my suit jacket before pulling me into a hug hard enough to aggravate my ribs.

“Which one?”