Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“The fall happened. So did the getting up. So did the finish. So did the work after.”
Then she glances at me.
Just once.
“So did the good.”
My throat closes.
Patty lowers the camera slightly.
Not all the way.
“Beautiful.”
Maren looks mortified.
I reach over under the frame and touch her pinky with mine.
Just a tiny brush.
She presses back.
One second.
Then we let go.
After the interview, Patty pretends not to have seen.
Badly.
Maren threatens to re-label all her files with chaotic names if Patty uses that footage badly.
Patty looks genuinely frightened.
Smart.
By afternoon, the team house is halfway packed with ending.
Rhett is sorting shared gear.
Mason is making a donation pile.
Jace is pretending not to care about a framed team photo he has wrapped in a hoodie.
Nolan is trying to convince everyone the rubber duck should become a traveling trophy.
Green supports this.
Democracy is in danger.
I sit on the porch with the old freshman photo in my hand.
Maren is at the arena finishing paperwork.
I am here.
Not rushing to her.
Not because I do not want to.
Because I have a life to sort too.
Coach’s words keep returning.
Learn what you like when no one is asking you to be useful.
I like mornings with coffee.
I like helping Green understand a trap.
I like cooking badly improving.
I like the quiet after a room has laughed for the right reason.
I like Maren’s laugh.
I like her courage.
I like that she asks me what kind of no.
I like that she stayed.
I like that she did not stay for me.
Nolan drops into the chair beside mine.
“You are thinking loudly.”
“I’m evolving.”
“Can you do it quieter?”
“No.”
He looks at the photo.
“You keeping that?”
“Yes.”
“You looked terrified.”
“Mason said that.”
“Mason is married. He knows fear.”
I laugh.
Nolan smiles.
Then, surprisingly, sobers.
“You gonna be okay without this?”
He gestures toward the house.
The team.
The end of the season.
I look out at the street.
“I think I am going to be weird.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is my answer.”
He nods.
“Fair.”
A pause.
Then he says, “You made it better, you know.”
“What?”
“The room.”
My throat tightens.
He looks uncomfortable, which means he is telling the truth.
“You were annoying. And sometimes avoidant. And your speeches got worse near the end.”
“Rude.”
“But you made it better.”
I stare at him.
Nolan looks away.
“Do not make me repeat that.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
We sit in silence.
Then he adds, “Also, if you hurt Maren again, Tessa has a committee.”
“I know.”
“No, like a real one.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Peace restored.
That evening, Maren and I meet outside the arena.
No big plan.
Just walking.
Campus is glowing with late spring light, the kind that makes brick buildings look like they are keeping secrets.
She wears a Lakeview jacket now.
Not temporary badge.
Staff badge.
It does something to me.
Good thing.
Hard thing.
Both.
“You look official,” I say.
“I feel like I am impersonating an adult.”
“Same.”
“You are unemployed hockey royalty.”
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
We walk past the arena, past the student center, toward the lake path.
Our hands brush once.
Twice.
The third time, I take hers.
She lets me.
Good yes.
“How was paperwork?” I ask.
“Less romantic than life decisions deserve.”
“I said that about locker cleanout.”
“Great minds.”
“Emotionally organized minds.”
“No.”
We reach the lake.
Sit on a bench.
No capstone wall.
No rink.
No team.
Just water, evening light, and the future being inconsiderate enough to remain undefined.
I look at her.
“Maren.”
Her eyes come to mine.
“Yes?”
“I do not know exactly what happens next.”
“Okay.”
“I have camp. Maybe coaching. Maybe training. Maybe I become a professional motivational warning.”
“Reasonable path.”
“I know I want you in it.”
Her breath catches.
I keep going carefully.
“Not as a plan I can hide inside. Not as proof I am fine. Not as a reason for you to stay. Just...” I swallow. “As you. If you want to be.”
The lake moves quietly.
Maren’s hand stays in mine.
“I want to be,” she says.
My chest opens.
No goal horn.
Better.
“I do not know what that looks like yet,” she adds.
“Me neither.”
“I need the job to be mine.”
“Yes.”
“I need the rink to be mine.”
“Yes.”
“And I need us to be something we choose, not something that happens because the story got emotional.”
That sentence is so Maren I almost smile.
I do smile.
Softly.
“Good.”
She narrows her eyes.
“Careful.”
“Very good yes.”
Her mouth curves.
Then she looks out at the lake.
“I want you in it too.”
There it is.
Not a label.
Not a promise too big to hold.
A choice.
The right size.
For now.
I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles.
She looks back at me.
“That was dangerously charming.”
“I have natural gifts.”
“Use them responsibly.”
“Trying.”
We sit until the light gets lower.
At some point, she leans her head against my shoulder.
At some point, I rest my cheek against her hair.
No one says huge.
No one says forever.
No one needs to.
The room is different now.
Bigger.
Quieter.
Still ours in the places we carry it.
And for the first time in my life, I do not need to be the loudest thing in it to know I belong.