Chapter 26 #2
She nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like I didn’t just admit something that feels dangerously close to failing.
“Okay,” she says. “Then that’s the first thing.”
I glance up. “What is?”
“You learning how to breathe through it,” she says simply. “You’re not trying to solve hockey or your diagnosis or your entire future in one go.” She gives me a look. “You love to try and do that, by the way.”
I snort. “Shocking.”
“Truly groundbreaking,” she deadpans, then she turns more serious. “But this? This is not a one-move fix. This is you letting things be messy for a minute.”
I lean back against the wall, letting my head tip lightly against it. “I don’t like messy.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” she says. “But you don’t really have a choice right now.”
Another beat passes, quieter this time.
“You don’t have to have the answers tonight,” she adds. “You don’t even have to know what the right move with Vivian is.”
It feels like I should argue that. Like I should need to know, but I don’t have anything in me to fight her on it.
“What if I mess it up?” I ask instead.
Emma’s mouth twitches. “You probably will.”
“Thanks,” I snap, questioning her intentions now.
“Please hear me out.” She lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t mean that the way you heard it. What I meant was not in some catastrophic, everything-goes-up-in-flames way. But in a human way. You’ll say the wrong thing. You’ll get overwhelmed. You might pull back when you shouldn’t.”
“Great,” I mutter.
“Welcome to being a person,” she shoots back, then steps a little closer. “The goal isn’t perfection, Ty. It’s honesty. It’s letting her see where you’re actually at instead of trying to be some polished version of yourself you think she deserves.”
Well. That’s the part that hits uncomfortably close to home.
“I don’t even know how to explain it,” I admit.
“You don’t have to explain it perfectly,” she says. “You just have to start.”
“Okay,” I say finally, my voice quieter but steadier. “Okay.”
She nods once, like that’s enough for now, and points to my phone. “Not sure if you noticed but it’s been lighting up.”
I glance over to see the screen flashing with texts. One quick look tells me it’s the team group chat so I tap the thread to see what’s going on.
Campbell:
Captain’s skate, day after tomorrow, early morning at the practice facility. Everyone who is in town, I want to see you on the ice.
“Awesome,” Emma, who is peering over my shoulder like the nosy sister she is, pats my back. “Tell them yes.”
I’m not sure why but my head starts shaking before I say the words. “Nope. Not gonna go.”
“Ty, we’re not doing that. I won’t let you,” she says as she takes a step back. “You told me not long ago that you felt most alive, even free, when you’re on the ice. Nothing else matters there, right?”
I clench my jaw reactively, because she’s right.
On the ice, there’s no guessing games. No hearing myself think.
No trying to keep up with conversations moving too fast or expressions I can’t quite read.
Hockey makes sense. Movement. Instinct. Repetition.
The sharp scrape of blades carving into fresh ice.
But today, even that glorious feeling is a tangled mess, twisted up with my thoughts.
Vivian. The alley. Kissing her. Wanting to be there for her.
And then, the stacking incident that sent my brain into a full shutdown spiral afterward because apparently feelings are now entering the chat like unwanted pop-up ads.
“I’m tired,” I mutter weakly.
Emma snorts. “You’re depressed.”
“I’m not depressed.”
“You texted me two nights ago when you reorganized your kitchen cabinets at two in the morning.”
“That was productive.”
“Ty, I call it concerning,” she says, crossing her arms tightly across her chest to punctuate her words.
I glare at her while she continues looking entirely too satisfied with herself.
“You need to get out of your own head,” she says more gently now. “And you love those guys. Even Owen, which frankly raises questions about your judgment.”
A reluctant laugh pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
“There he is,” she says immediately, pointing at me. “That’s the first almost-smile I’ve seen from you.”
“I don’t have to smile all the time.”
“Let’s face it. You’re gonna get further in life with a smile as opposed to a grimace."
I roll my eyes. This is Emma. “You are so dramatic.”
“I’m your sister. Drama is part of the job description.”
Chuckling again, I let my gaze drop back to the phone. Campbell’s already sent three follow-up messages.
Campbell:
I will punish anyone who does not come for years.
YEARS!
And I really mean it.
Owen:
I need a gif of a man dramatically collapsing onto ice.
Liam:
Pls, all of you, come before Campbell discovers conditioning drills.
Another laugh escapes me, and Emma bumps my shoulder lightly. “Go skate, Ty.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. Maybe she’s right. Maybe for an hour or two, I can stop thinking so hard about everything and just move.
I type out a response before I can change my mind.
I’ll be there. But if Campbell brings out even one cone, I’m leaving.
Three dots appear almost instantly.
Owen:
YES. Booo cones, go Ty!
Liam:
I can pick you up?
Campbell:
8 a.m. don’t be late
I groan immediately.
“See?” Emma grins. “Don’t you feel better already?”
“No,” I say flatly, shoving my phone into my pocket. “Now I just feel tired earlier than planned.”
“You’ll get over it, now, move,” she announces before clapping her hands and pointing down the hall. “You smell like regret and poor choices.”
I manage to choke out a tiny semblance of a snicker as I push off from where I’ve been standing and follow her down the hall.
I’m not fixed; what’s happened has happened. But for the first time since everything went sideways, it feels like maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to stay this way.