Page 148 of On His Team

I say, “Three is when they can unionize.”

He laughs.

I shrug. “I already grew up with Benson. I’ve served my time.”

He smiles. “You love your brother.”

“I do. Deeply. Which is why I know the dangers.”

Rowan smiles. I study him for a second.

“What about hockey?”

“What about it?”

“Isn’t that the dream?”

He shakes his head.

I stare at him for a second, waiting for him to change his answer. “Playing professionally?”

“No.”

That surprises me enough that I put my food down. “No?”

“I knew a long time ago I probably wasn’t going to the NHL.”

“But that isn’t the only place you can play.”

“I know.”

“AHL?”

He gives me a look. “That’s not exactly something I can just decide to do.”

“Fine. ECHL.”

“Maybe.”

“Europe?”

“Maybe.”

I pull my feet underneath me and turn farther toward him. He keeps eating like this is an entirely normal conversation, and he hasn’t just casually dismantled what I assumed was the central dream of every man who has willingly spent most of his life getting slammed into boards.

“And you just don’t care?”

“I care.”

“That sounded suspiciously like you don’t.”

Rowan thinks about it while he chews. “I like playing hockey.”

“Okay.”

“I love playing here.”

Something about the way he says it makes me stop.