Chapter Fifteen
Jason
I sit on that bench for three hours after Violet walks away.
Three hours of staring at nothing, replaying every word of our conversation, trying to figure out how everything went so catastrophically wrong.
Three hours of watching other students walk by, living their normal lives, while mine falls apart in real time.
Some things can't be fixed, Jason. Some things are just... broken.
Her words keep echoing in my head, and each time they hit harder. Because she's right. I broke this. I broke us. I had the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me, and I destroyed it through my own stupidity and selfishness.
When I finally force myself to move, it's only because my phone has been buzzing insistently for the last hour. Seventeen missed calls from Teller, twelve text messages, and one voicemail that probably contains language I don't want to hear in public. I don't care.
For the first time since this whole mess started, the AHL opportunity feels completely irrelevant.
Professional hockey, my lifelong dream, the chance I've been working toward for years—none of it matters when I just lost the only person who's ever made me want to be better than I thought I could be.
I walk back to my dorm in a daze, ignoring the curious looks from people who probably heard about the "campus hero" having a very public relationship meltdown. When I get to my room, Tyler takes one look at my face and immediately closes his laptop.
"What happened?" he asks.
So I tell him. Everything. The agent call, keeping it secret from Violet, Madison somehow knowing, the devastating conversation that ended with Violet telling me to take the opportunity and walking away.
"Jesus, Harrison," Tyler says when I finish. "You really screwed this up."
"Thanks for the support," I mutter, dropping onto my bed.
"I'm not trying to be supportive right now. I'm trying to give you perspective." Tyler turns his chair to face me directly. "You had the perfect girl—smart, beautiful, completely supportive of your hockey career—and you lied to her about the most important decision of your life."
"I didn't lie—"
"You told her your phone buzzing was 'just team stuff' when it was actually a life-changing opportunity. That's lying, dude."
He's right, and hearing it stated so bluntly makes me feel even worse.
"What would you have done?" I ask. "If you got offered the chance to go pro, what would you have done?"
"I would have told my girlfriend immediately," Tyler says without hesitation. "Because if she's actually important to me, I'd want her input on major life decisions. I'd want to figure out solutions together."
"But what if there weren't any solutions? What if it was just choose hockey or choose her?"
Tyler gives me a look like I'm being incredibly dense. "Then I'd choose her."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. Because hockey's a game, Harrison.
It's an amazing game, it's our passion, it's what we love to do.
But it's still just a game. And if I had to choose between playing a game and spending my life with someone who makes me happy, who supports me, who makes me want to be better? That's not even a choice."
I stare at him, processing what he just said. "You really mean that."
"Of course I mean it. Look, I love hockey. We all do. But what's the point of achieving your dreams if you don't have anyone to share them with? What's the point of success if you're miserable?"
Before I can respond, Keith walks in carrying pizza and wearing an expression that suggests he's already heard about my relationship disaster.
"Please tell me you didn't actually choose hockey over Violet," he says without preamble.
"I didn't choose anything," I protest. "I just... got confused about priorities."
"Confused about priorities," Keith repeats, setting down the pizza. "Jason, that girl reorganized our entire equipment system because she cared about making your life easier. She believed in you when no one else did, including yourself."
"I know—"
"If you actually understood what you had with her, this wouldn't be a difficult decision."
Keith and Tyler exchange a look, and I get the feeling they've been discussing my situation before I got here.
"We're just wondering," Tyler says carefully, "what exactly you think is going to happen if you take this AHL opportunity."
"I'll play professional hockey. Maybe make it to the NHL eventually."
"And then what?" Keith asks.
"What do you mean, and then what?"
"I mean, let's say it all works out. Let's say you make it to the big leagues, have a successful career, everything you've dreamed of.
What happens when you retire? What happens when you're forty and hockey's over and you're sitting in some big house somewhere, alone, because you chose a sport over the person you loved? "
I hadn't thought about that. I'd been so focused on the immediate opportunity that I hadn't considered the long-term implications of my choice.
"Look," Tyler continues, "I get the appeal.
Professional hockey is incredible. But careers end, dude.
Injuries happen, age happens, better players come along.
But if you find someone who actually loves you, who supports your dreams but also makes you want to build something beyond hockey? That's forever."
"If I don't take this opportunity, there might not be another one," I point out.
"Maybe not," Keith agrees. "But there might be. You're good enough, Jason. Really good. This isn't your only shot—it's just your first shot."
"And if it is your only shot," Tyler adds, "is it worth losing Violet over?"
I think about that question seriously. Is professional hockey worth losing Violet? Is any career worth losing the person who makes everything else feel meaningful? The answer hits me like a physical blow. No. It's not worth it. Nothing is worth losing her.
"I need to fix this," I say suddenly, sitting up straighter.
"Good," Keith says. "What's your plan?"
"I don't know yet. But I need to prove to her that she's more important to me than hockey. That I choose her."
"How are you going to do that?" Tyler asks.
I think about it for a moment. "I need to turn down the AHL opportunity," I say finally.
"Are you sure about that?” Keith asks.
"It's the right decision," I realize as I'm saying it. "Because Violet was right—I was choosing hockey over everything else. If I want to prove that's changed, I need to actually change it."
I pull out my phone and scroll to Dave Teller’s number. My hands are shaking slightly as I dial.
"Jason!" Teller answers immediately. "Finally. I've been trying to reach you all day. Charlotte needs an answer in two hours or they're moving on to other options."
"I have an answer," I say.
"Excellent. I'll start the paperwork for—"
"I'm saying no."
There's a long pause. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm turning down the opportunity. I'm staying in school."
"Jason, are you insane? This is professional hockey. This is everything you've been working for."
"I know what it is," I say calmly. "And I'm saying no."
"Can I ask why? Because if this is about money, we can negotiate—"
"It's not about money. It's about priorities. And I finally figured out what mine are."
After Teller hangs up—not happily—I sit there for a moment, feeling simultaneously terrified and relieved. I just turned down the opportunity I've dreamed about my entire life. But somehow, it feels like the first truly right decision I've made in days.
"So what's phase two?" Keith asks.
"Phase two is convincing Violet that I actually learned something from this disaster," I say. "That I understand what I almost lost and I'm never going to make that mistake again."
"How are you going to do that?"
I think about Violet—how her mind works, what would be meaningful to her, how to prove that this isn't just panic over losing her but genuine understanding of what matters.
"I need to show her that I'm choosing us over hockey," I say slowly. "Not just saying it, but actually demonstrating it in a way she can't ignore."
"What did you have in mind?"
An idea is starting to form, something that would be completely public, completely obvious, and completely impossible to misinterpret.
"The next home game," I say. "Saturday night against Washington State. It's the biggest game of the season, packed arena, probably scouts in attendance."
"What about it?"
"I'm going to quit the team."
Tyler and Keith stare at me like I've lost my mind.
"Jason," Tyler says carefully, "you just became the starter. You're having the season of your life. Why would you quit the team?"
"Because that's what it's going to take," I realize. "Violet needs to see that I'm willing to give up hockey for her. Not just some future opportunity, but hockey itself. The thing that's been the most important part of my life until now."
"That's..." Keith pauses, trying to find words. "That's either the most romantic thing I've ever heard or the most insane."
"Maybe both," I admit. "But it's the only way to prove that everything I told her was true. That she's more important than hockey, that I choose her over everything else."
"And what if it doesn't work?" Tyler asks. "What if you give up hockey and she still doesn't want to be with you?"
"Then at least I'll know I finally got my priorities straight," I say. "And maybe, eventually, she'll forgive me for taking so long to figure it out."
The plan is crazy. It's probably going to end my hockey career, definitely going to disappoint Coach Higgins and my teammates, and might not even work. But for the first time since this whole mess started, I feel like I know exactly what I need to do.