Page 92 of Faking the Goal

"Are you going to answer the question or not?"

"Go ahead."

"What's the biggest motivation in your life?" Her eyes stay on mine. "Not just in hockey. In everything. When things get hard, when you want to quit, when you're exhausted... what keeps you moving forward?"

"My mom and my sister, Miho." I answer almost immediately.

"They're the reason I get up before sunrise every day. They're the reason I push myself until I can barely stand. They're the reason I refuse to settle for being average."

I glance down at the coffee cup in my hands before continuing.

"I've never cared about success because I wanted recognition." A small smile tugs at one corner of my mouth. "To me, success has always meant being able to give the people I love a life where they never have to worry again."

I look back at Taylor.

"My mom spent years sacrificing pieces of herself just to make sure my sister and I never felt how heavy life really was. She carried burdens she should've never had to carry, and somehow she still smiled through all of it." My fingers tighten slightly around the mug. "If I can spend the rest of my life making sure she never has to carry another one... then every sacrifice I make now is worth it."

I pause, searching for the right words.

"I think..." My voice grows quieter. "People spend so much time chasing happiness for themselves that they forget there's another kind of happiness." I meet Taylor's eyes again. "The kind that comes from knowing the people you love are safe. Comfortable. Smiling because of something you were able to give them. I don't think there's a better feeling than that."

I glance up at Taylor.

She's looking at me differently.

I can't quite explain how I know that, only that whatever expression she'd been wearing for the last hour has disappeared. There's no teasing smile. No playful sarcasm lurking in her eyes. She just... looks quietly thoughtful, like she's trying to reconcile the version of me everyone on campus seems to know—the quiet, antisocial grump who rarely smiles—with the person sitting across from her now.

She opens her mouth, closes it again, then lets out a small breath. "Wow," she says finally. "I was not expecting that."

"What were you expecting?"

She grins sheepishly.

"'Hockey is life.'" She drops her voice an octave, trying—and failing—to imitate me. "'I just take it one game at a time.' You know..." She gestures vaguely between us. "The standard athlete interview answers."

I shake my head, fighting a smile at her terrible impression of me.

"But seriously," she continues, her expression softening. "That was really good. Like I'm finally seeing a side of you most people probably don't get to see."

Something about the way she says it makes me want to look somewhere else. I reach for my coffee, only to realize it's gone completely cold.

I drink it anyway.

Taylor saves the document with a satisfied click before closing her laptop.

"I think that's everything."

*****

TAYLOR

"I think that's everything."

Thank fucking God.

I close my laptop and reach for my latte, which is definitely more lukewarm than hot now but still tastes good enough that I'm not wasting it.

"Now that you're done asking all your questions about my life," Kentaro says, "why don't you tell me something about yours?"