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Boom. His words landed like a puck to the gut, making me feel like a fraud for even entertaining the NHL offer.
“Damn, that's huge to hear you say that. They love you here, but me; I think the jury’s still out.”
His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me like he was trying to read an opposing player's next move. "So, we're a good team, eh?"
"We are," I nodded, feeling like a cheat with every word. "We really are."
Hoss stood. “Was that all you had? Everything good?”
"Yep, all good," I replied, struggling to keep my face unreadable. He seemed to buy it, clapping me on the shoulder before heading out.
I watched him go, my mind flooded with conflicting thoughts. What he'd said piled on another complicated layer to my already tangled feelings. The NHL was calling, but so was something potentially life-changing right here in Cold Pines.
Needing air and needing to clear my head after I arrived home, I walked the few blocks from my apartment to the waterfront boardwalk. The gulls were raising a ruckus. I spotted the reason for that—a fishing boat was gliding into the harbor.
The air was brisk and smelled of the ocean’s salty brine. Streetlights flickered to life, casting a golden glow on the planks beneath my feet.
Couples walked arm-in-arm, kids chased after each other, and food trucks were still open, selling everything from lobster rolls to clam chowder. Normally, I’d revel in the peaceful atmosphere; the sound of the waves lapping against the docks was a natural stress reliever. But today? Each wave seemed to ask, "What are you going to do, Pete?"
"Coach Z? Is that you?" a voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I turned and saw a young woman in her early twenties. She wore a Cold Pines Cougars sweatshirt and had her phone ready for a selfie.
"Yeah, that's me. How's it going?" I plastered on my public smile.
"Wow, this is so cool! I'm Megan, a massive Cougars fan. Do you mind if I take a photo of the two of us?”
"Of course not."
She stepped up next to me and took some quick snapshots. "Good luck with the rest of the season, Coach. We're all rooting for you.”
"Thanks, Megan. I appreciate it.”
As she disappeared into the evening, her parting words echoed in my head. “We're all rooting for you.” If I stayed, I knew the town was on my side through thick and thin.
My thoughts crept back to that conversation with Hoss after practice. When he said he couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else, it felt like a secret confession wrapped in casual words. It messed with my head more than I wanted to admit.
I stopped at the end of the boardwalk and leaned on the rail. The ocean stretched infinitely into the distance, dark and mysterious, like the life path ahead of me.
I saw the NHL's bright lights on one side and something—someone—meaningful on the other. The money, fame, and glamour weren't the issue. I had enough cash banked to last me two lifetimes.
It was about where I wanted my life to go and what kind of man I wanted to be. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Hoss:
"Lineup's set for tomorrow. You good to go over it in the morning?"
I paused on the boardwalk, rereading Hoss's text as the tide came in and the waves crashed a little higher. It was such a simple message, yet it acknowledged the rhythm we’d already established: strategizing, analyzing, and building something meaningful.
Could I really walk away from the world of team and community building with Hoss to chase the NHL?
My fingers hesitated as they hovered over the phone. The offer still pulled at me. It was a chance to reclaim some of my past glory and keep my name on the lips of hockey fans for decades to come. Still, Hoss had awakened something else in me that rattled deep inside.
I started typing a reply:
"Morning's good. Come over tonight. We should talk."
My thumb hovered over send. Was I ready to have that conversation? To cross that line and irrevocably alter our relationship? The gulls cried overhead like a warning siren.
A breeze rolled off the water, and I shivered, deleting the unfinished message. The choice paralyzed me. What if I gave up NHL coaching and regretted it forever? But what if I lost an opportunity with Hoss and spent my life wondering, "What if?"
