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I typed again:
"Lineup sounds good."
I hit send before I could overthink it. No mention of tonight or talking.
Hoss's reply came quickly:
"You got it, Boss."
I tucked my phone away, sighing. I’d chosen the safe route, at least for now. As I walked home, the questions still churned away.
Could I go through with the NHL offer and leave Cold Pines behind? Could I stay and build a future with Hoss without regrets? I didn't know, and the not knowing ate away at me.
I unlocked my apartment door, the empty room taunting me. No solutions existed within those walls, just lingering doubts to keep me awake all night as I grappled with an impossible decision.
I was midway through dissecting game footage on my laptop when my phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen flashed "Sis Calling." I glanced at the clock. Late for her.
I hit the answer button. "Hey, Kath, what's going on? You're up late."
"Couldn't sleep," she replied. I heard the exhaustion in her voice, which put me on edge. "How're you?"
"Good, good. Just doing some late work. You know how it is." I paused, feeling the tension knot up my gut. "You didn't call me at this hour to ask about my day, though, did you?"
She chuckled softly, but I couldn’t hear any humor in it. "No, I didn't. Look, Pete, I've got some news. Not great news. Rob and I...we're getting a divorce."
My stomach sank. "Oh man, I…I’m sorry. Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not," she admitted. "But that's not why I called. I called because we fell into this rut, Rob and me. We got too comfortable and stopped taking chances with each other. We stopped imagining what our lives could be outside of what we knew. I guess I wanted to tell you not to make the same mistake. You’ll always be my little brother.”
Her words hit me hard, and they stung. I stared at the paused game footage on my laptop screen, players frozen in place, waiting for the play to resume. It reminded me of my situation.
“Kath, it's a little eerie that you're bringing this up. I've got a decision to make. Career stuff. Big league opportunities."
"You mean the NHL offer?" she asked.
“Damn, how the hell does everyone know?" I groaned.
"We may be states apart, but I still have my sources," she teased. “Seriously, Pete, this is your life, not a dress rehearsal. If the NHL is what you want, grab it. If it's not, then don't. But do me a favor, please. Whatever you decide, do it because it's what you want, not what's safe or familiar."
"Do you regret marrying Rob?" I asked, needing to understand the scope of her circumstances to help navigate through mine.
"I don't regret the good times or the love we had. I regret not taking chances, not allowing myself to figure out what else there could be, who else we could be."
"Thanks," I said, my voice low.
“I love you, little brother. Make the choice you can look back on and know you dared to want something, even if it scares the shit out of you."
"I love you too," I managed, my throat tight. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Just send your good thoughts,” she suggested. “I’ve got solid friends around me here.”
We hung up, and I sat there, phone in hand, feeling like someone had taken a Zamboni to the ice in my mind, clearing away all the cracks and fog. My sister, Kathy, laid it all out for me to see.
The question wasn't just the NHL versus Cold Pines. It was also about what kind of life I was bold enough to envision for myself. And who I saw by my side in that vision.
Just then, my phone signaled. It was another text from Hoss.
"Can't sleep. Sorry if you are. Wanna grab a late-night coffee at the diner?”
