Page 140 of The Goalie in Room 1

He laughed, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Whichever route you take, you’ll be good at it.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

I looked down at the water bottle in my hands, remembering Eli fighting me over a fucking resistance band. Remembering the first time an athlete had looked at me like I understood, instead of like I was another person telling them what their body should be doing. I loved what I was doing. I wanted more. I wanted to do more than stand on the sidelines with nothing but experience and a foul mouth.

It would be hard as fuck with my shitty track record in school. But…if this injury taught me anything, it was that I could do hard shit.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think so too.”

A puck cracked against the boards as Thad missed the net again.

Aiden winced. “Jesus. He really is terrible.”

“Right?”

We laughed, and I let my head fall back against the glass.

My gear was heavy around me. Sweat cooled beneath my chest protector. My right quad had finally stopped twitching, leaving behind the deep ache of a muscle I’d worked harder than usual.

But my knee didn’t hurt.

The realization should’ve meant everything.

A year ago, I woke up at two a.m. and battled against a spiral toward early addiction because all I wanted was for my knee to feel the way it did right now. I would’ve taken how I felt today, after an hour in the crease, as a fucking sign. I would’ve put my head down, called my agent, found a trainer, and spent the next year clawing my way toward another crease.

Instead, I looked across the ice at the net.

I still wanted it.

Just not like I once had

I wanted more days like this. I wanted Aiden talking shit while he fired pucks at my head. I wanted the snap of my glove around a puck and the burn in my legs after a save. I wanted to skate until I was exhausted, peel off my gear, and know I played hard and fucking loved every second.

But…I didn’t need a contract to do any of that.

Aiden nudged my skate with his. “You good?”

I looked at my brother, then back at the crease.

“Yeah.”

And for once, the answer needed nothing after it.

Aiden pushed himself up. “Good. Because I’m not done embarrassing you.”

I snorted. “You scored one fucking goal.”

“First of many.”

“Get back on the ice, Mercy.”

He laughed as he climbed over the boards.

I stayed where I was for another few seconds, looking at the net. Maybe my knee could take me further. Maybe I could train for another year and get faster. Stronger. Good enough for someone to notice.

There would always be another maybe if I wanted one.

I didn’t.