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"No," he agrees. "It isn’t."

I appreciate that he doesn’t immediately promise me everything will work out. Dad already has that covered.

"I’m saying we can have a plan," Theo continues. "You have the surgery. You do the rehab. When we know what comes next, we adjust."

"And if I can’t play?"

"Then we deal with that when we have an answer. Today, we have practice."

He hands me my sweatshirt.

I sit there with it for a second before carefully putting it on.

Today, we have practice.

Tonight, I have Baylor.

I’d like to stop wondering how long I get to keep either one.

He gets up, and I follow him toward the ice.

Once we’re out there, I have something to do besides think. Haynes runs us through drills, stops us when he doesn’t like what he sees, and makes us do it again. I take the corrections, make the passes, and try not to get irritated when my shoulder reminds me that being cleared to practice doesn’t mean I get to forget about it.

Hunter notices when I adjust.

He catches up beside me while we wait for the next drill.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

He studies my face long enough to be annoying, then nods toward the other end of the ice.

"Your turn."

I push off before he can ask anything else.

For the next hour, I get to be a defenseman. Not a free agent heading into surgery. Not a son trying to convince his father that surviving a heart attack doesn’t mean he should go straight back to work.

Just a guy who knows where to be when the puck comes his way.

I’m going to miss that more than I know how to explain if I don’t get it back.

Afterward, I do what Theo tells me. Treatment, ice, no pretending I’m too busy to sit still. Hunter heads out before me, and the room gets quieter as the guys finish changing and leave.

I check my phone.

Baylor has sent a picture of two plates on my kitchen counter.

Baylor: Nothing fancy tonight. I’m tired.

The food looks good. More importantly, there are two plates, and she’s waiting at home for me.

Me: Looks perfect. Heading home soon.

I shower and get dressed, then put my gear away. My shoulder makes pulling on my shirt more difficult than it should be, but I get it on without having to ask anyone for help.

For some reason, that feels like an accomplishment today.