"You didn't hear this from me yet, because it's not official and nothing's guaranteed." He leaned forward. "They're looking. Rockford. Might call. Could be more than a PTO if you keep playing like you did tonight."
I smiled automatically, the way you do when someone tells you good news and your face hasn't caught up to your brain yet. Then, my ribs started to ache.
"Rockford. Wow. That's... that's great, Coach. I mean, nothing's set, but..."
"You've got scouts talking. That podcast thing didn't hurt either. People are starting to see past the viral bullshit. Is this what you wanted?"
"Yeah. Of course. I mean, who doesn't want to move up?"
Maybe me.
Coach nodded once. "Keep your head on straight. Don't let it go to that pretty skull of yours. And Riley?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't tell the boys yet. Let them have tonight."
I nodded, stood on unsteady legs, and approached the door. Coach spoke again.
"You earned this. Don't forget that."
The walk through the hallway felt longer on the way back. The locker room noise grew louder with each step—celebration, brotherhood, and all the things I'd learned to accept, even want.
I leaned against the wall outside the door, listening to Hog's booming laugh and Pickle's off-key victory song. There was so much unbridled joy, but the best news of my hockey career had me reacting like someone had just told me my dog died.
Rockford. AHL affiliate, one step closer to the show. Real money and opportunity. Proof that Jake Riley wasn't merely a walking meme with decent hands.
It was supposed to be vindication. It was the point where the story shifted from cautionary tale to comeback narrative.
All I could think about was what I'd leave behind.
Thunder Bay. This broken-down barn full of guys who'd become family without me noticing. A city that had let me be more than my mistakes. Most of all, Evan, who alphabetized his spice rack and stress-baked cookies, while looking at me like I was worth saving from myself.
The locker room door opened and Kowalczyk stumbled out, half-dressed and grinning.
"There you are! Come on, man, Hog's buying shots at The Drop. Victory celebration!"
"Yeah, I'll catch up."
He disappeared back inside, leaving me alone with the industrial lighting and the growing realization that everything I'd thought I wanted was about to destroy everything I'd accidentally found.
I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over Evan's contact. Started typing half a dozen messages that all sounded wrong.
Hey, might be leaving soon.
Hey, remember how I said I was bad at staying?
Hey, want to help me practice being terrified of good things?
Deleted them all.
Through the locker room door, I heard someone start singing "We Are The Champions" in a key that existed only in the imagination of very drunk hockey players. Hog's laugh boomed over the melody. Pickle's voice cracked on the high notes.
My family. My home. My life, though I'd been too stupid to recognize it as such until someone offered to take it away.
I'd wanted a second chance, so badly I forgot to ask what would come after I got it.
Chapter fourteen
