Chapter 18 #2
"Lockwood." Preston appears in the doorway, suit perfectly pressed despite the locker room steam. His grin is wide enough to split his face. "Scouts want a word."
My stomach drops. "Now?"
"Now." He's practically bouncing on his toes. "Both teams. Together. This is good, kid. This is really good."
I follow him into the hallway, still in my base layer and hockey pants. The scouts are waiting—four of them this time, representing both teams. I recognize Dawson and Cooper from before, plus two new faces in expensive suits taking notes.
"Hell of a game tonight," Dawson says. "That's the player we've been waiting to see."
"Impressive turnaround from last week," Cooper adds, making notes on his tablet. "Exactly the maturity we were looking for."
Preston's already on his phone before the scouts turn the corner, fingers flying across the screen.
"We'll have something official after the championship game Monday," one of the new scouts says. "But unofficially? You should start thinking about which coast, east or west, you prefer."
The four of them leave, and Preston claps me on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. "This is it, kid. Both teams are serious. I'll start working the details, but we're looking at flying you out for meetings right after the championship. Your dream is about to come true."
He walks away already on his phone, and I stand in the empty hallway in my hockey gear. My phone's lighting up with congratulations texts. I stare at them without reading.
The NHL. Everything I've worked for since I was six years old, holding a stick too big for my hands.
So why does my chest feel hollow?
The post-game celebration moves to Moosehead Lodge.
The team's already claimed the back corner by the time I arrive, pitchers of cheap beer covering the table and a plate of nachos that looks like it's been sitting under a heat lamp since last Tuesday.
Sage holds court at a corner table, telling the entire team embarrassing stories about my childhood. Piper is beside her, laughing so hard at whatever my sister just said that she's got tears in her eyes.
I'm halfway across the bar, getting drinks, when I hear Sage's voice carry over the noise.
"And then," Sage continues, "when he was fifteen, he tried to impress a girl by doing a backflip off the diving board at the community pool. Except he forgot he was wearing skates."
"Skates?" Piper's eyes widen. "At a pool?"
"He'd just come from practice. Walked straight from the rink to meet her, still in full gear." Sage is grinning like she's been waiting years to tell this story. "Jumped. Realized mid-air. Hit the water like a cannonball made of bad decisions and regret."
I abandon the drinks and head over. "I was twelve," I protest, sliding into the booth across from them.
"You were fifteen, and the fire department had to fish you out with a pool skimmer." Sage grins at Piper. "Oh, and he once got detention for correcting his history teacher's facts about the Great Chicago Fire. Brought in Dad's firefighting manuals as evidence."
The table goes quiet for a beat. Piper's hand finds mine under the table, squeezes once.
"The teacher was wrong," I say quietly. "About the cause. It mattered."
Sage's expression softens. "Everything about fires mattered to you, even back then." She pauses. "Dad thought it was hilarious. Came to the parent-teacher meeting in his uniform, backed you up completely."
Sage's expression softens. "He was so proud of you, Ry. He loved watching you play hockey. Loved that you wanted to be just like him at the firehouse." She pauses. "He never would've wanted you to have to choose."
"Maybe he should have."
"Maybe you're overthinking things." She stands, stretches. "I'm getting another drink. Piper, come help me carry?"
"We're getting two drinks," Piper says.
"Four, actually. I'm planning ahead."
The rest of the team takes the hint, dispersing to the bar or the dartboards as Sage links her arm through Piper's. "We'll be back. Ryder, try not to brood too hard while we're gone."
They're halfway to the bar when Sage turns back, catching my eye. She mouths three words: "Don't screw up."
Then they're gone, the team scattered around the bar, and I'm left alone in the booth with two beers and the weight of every decision I haven't made yet.
Jax slides in across from me thirty seconds later. "Your sister is incredible. Also, she keeps making jokes about my commitment issues and I'm concerned she's psychic."
"She's perceptive."
"She told me you're in love with Piper and too stubborn to admit it."
I nearly choke on my beer. "She said what?"
"Exact words: 'My brother's in love with her but he's going to sabotage it because Lockwoods are genetically predisposed to self-destruction when things get good.'" Jax leans back. "So, is she right?"
"I—"
"Because from where I'm sitting, you've got everything you want right in front of you. Great game tonight. Scouts interested. Girl who looks at you like you hung the moon. Sister who clearly adores you despite your emotional constipation." He pauses. "So what's the problem?"
Same question. Different person asking.
"If I go to the NHL, I leave everything behind," I say finally. "This town. The firehouse. My dad's legacy. Her."
"And if you stay?"
"I give up the dream. Everything I've worked for. Everything Dad wanted for me."
"Did he though?" Jax asks quietly. "Want that for you? Or did he just want you to be happy?"
Piper and Sage return with drinks before I can answer. Sage sets two beers in front of me with a significant look.
"You look like you need these," she says. "Also, we're leaving. Girl time at Piper's cabin. You're not invited."
"I can walk you back," I start.
"And yet, still not invited." Sage links her arm through Piper's. "Come on, Piper. Let's leave them to celebrate properly."
Then they're gone, and I'm left with two beers and the weight of every decision I haven't made yet.
The drive home is quiet.
Sage and Piper's laughter carries across the driveway from her cabin. My phone buzzes in my pocket—Preston again, probably more logistics and excitement about the scouts.
I'm sitting in my rearranged living room, staring out the window at nothing, when there's a knock at the door.
Sage doesn't wait for an answer before letting herself in, hands shoved in her jacket pockets.
"Walk with me?" she asks.
We end up at the edge of the property where the trees start, snow crunching under our boots. The stars are impossibly bright overhead, the kind of clarity you only get in deep winter.
"I'm proud of you," Sage says finally. "Tonight's game. Everything you've built here. All of it."
"Thanks."
I wait for the criticism, the lecture, the advice I didn't ask for. When it doesn't come, I glance at her. "But?"
"No buts. I'm just proud." She's quiet for a moment. "You're in love with her."
It's not a question.
"Yeah," I admit. "I am."
"And she's in love with you," she says.
"I think so."
"So what's the problem?"
There it is again. The question nobody can stop asking because I keep refusing to answer it.
"I can't have both," I say. "The NHL means leaving. Staying means—"
"Giving up the dream," Sage finishes. "Except what if the dream changed? What if what you want now isn't the same as what you wanted at six years old?"
"That's not how it works."
"Why not?" She turns to face me fully. "Dad picked firefighting because it mattered to him. Not because it was expected or because anyone told him to. He chose purpose over glory, and he never regretted it."
"And if I stay and regret it?"
"Then you deal with it like an adult instead of running from the possibility of being happy.
" Her voice is fierce. "You're allowed to change your mind, Ryder.
You're allowed to want different things.
You're allowed to choose her, choose this town, choose the fire department—and it doesn't make you a failure. "
My phone buzzes. I pull it out.
Preston.
Preston: Spoke to both teams. They want you in Seattle Tuesday, Miami Thursday. Book your flights yet? Call me tomorrow.
Sage reads over my shoulder. "Seattle and Vancouver. Wow."
I stare at the message, then up at the stars.
My dream. About to come true.
So why does it feel more like a nightmare?
"What are you going to do?" she asks.
"I don't know," I admit. "I have one more game. One more chance to prove I belong at that level. And then—"
"And then you choose," she says. "Really choose. Not what you think you should want. What you actually want."
She pulls me into a hug, squeezing tight. "I love you, Ry. Whatever you decide."
"Love you too," I manage.
"Get some sleep." She pulls back, studying my face. "You look like hell."
"Thanks."
"Anytime." She grins, then heads back toward Piper's cabin.
I watch her go, then stand alone with the stars and my phone and the weight of a decision I'm not ready to make.
The cold finally drives me inside.
The light is on in Piper's cabin. Shadows move behind the curtain—her and Sage, probably laughing about something else embarrassing from my childhood.
My phone buzzes again. Preston, excited about logistics and contracts and the future I've always wanted.
The light in Piper's cabin flickers. She appears in the window for just a second, looking out at the stars, and even from here I can see her smile.
I press my forehead against the cold window. The glass fogs with my breath.
Twenty-three feet away, that light stays on.