She doesn’t say anything at first, and for a second, I think the line dropped.
“Mum?”
“I don’t want to be in the way.”
I laugh, soft and exasperated. “You’re not in the way. You never are. Look, I get that you like watching from home, but it’s not the same. I want you there. In the stands. Cheering, throwing a program at some kid who boos too loud, like you used to.”
“I’m not as agile as I was back then.”
“You’re still a menace,” I say fondly. “Please. Let me fly you down. Let me do this.”
She sighs. “I’ll think about it.” Which, from her, is basically a yes.
“Thanks, Mum.”
“You looked happy,” she says, quieter now. “Happier than I’ve seen in ages.”
I don’t answer that. I don’t know how. Because Iwashappy, in a way that snuck up on me. And a big part of that had nothing to do with the puck or the scoreboard.
Mia’s face flashes behind my eyes; her dry smirk, the soft brush of her leg against mine under the table at the pub. That look she gave me when she said,You were enough tonight.Like she meant it. Like she saw something in me I’m still trying to acknowledge is there.
“I’ll call you later,” I say instead. “Love you.”
“Love you too, D.”
I hang up and let the phone sit in my palm for a moment, my thumb brushing over the edge. Then I tuck it away and go back to stretching. Or try to.
“Seriously, Dylan?” Jonno’s voice cuts through the air like a slap. I don’t even have to look to know he’s standing behind me with that clipboard and his usual scowl.
“You’re not cleared for on-ice today. It’s a rest day for the team. ThescheduleI gave you; remember that?”
I sit up, smirking. “Just stretching. Didn’t realise that was a crime.”
“It is when you’re supposed to be off your feet.”
He walks around in front of me, crouches slightly so we’re eye level. “You played hard last night. Great, even. But your shoulder’s still not one hundred percent, and that ankle’s got more tape on it than a Christmas present. You don’t push today, or you risk setting yourself back a month.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m fine, Jonno. I swear.”
He gives me that look, the one that says,Don’t bullshit me, kid.I’ve seen it a lot since I joined the team.
“You always say that. But I see the tightness when youwalk, the way you favour that left foot. I know you’re tough, Dylan. No one doubts that. But tough doesn’t mean stupid. You want to stay in the lineup? Then respect the process. That means recovery days too.”
I nod, even though part of me still itches to lace up and move.
“I know it’s hard to sit still,” he adds, a little softer. “But you’ve got nothing to prove today. You did the work. You showed up. Now let your body catch up.”
It’s weird how those words land. Because they sound almost like what Mia said.You were enough tonight.Maybe I don’t have to run myself into the ground to stay worthy of being here.
“All right,” I say. “You win. No ice. Happy?”
He raises a brow. “I’ll be happy when I don’t have to chase you off the rink like a bloody sheepdog.”
I grin, finally relaxing. “That’s fair.”
He heads off, muttering something about young hotheads and early graves, and I lay back on the mat, arms behind my head, staring at the ceiling beams above.
The restlessness is still there, curling low in my gut as it always is. But something else too. A kind of quiet. Not peace exactly, but something close.
