Page 56 of The Man in the Cottage

"To hockey?"

"To any of it. The team, the pressure, the life I had before." I stare at the ceiling. "Being here, with you—this is the first time I've felt like myself in years. I don't want to lose that."

"You won't lose it." She puts her hand on my chest, right over my heart. "Whatever you decide, I'm here. That doesn't change."

I cover her hand with mine. "I don't deserve you."

"Probably not. But you're stuck with me anyway."

I laugh, and it feels good. Real. Like something I'd forgotten how to do.

We stay like that until the sun goes down, talking about nothing and everything. She tells me about trying to write while my family was there, how she couldn't focus, how she kept replaying the conversation in her head. I tell her about practice, about Jaxson, about the strange feeling of being back in a place that used to feel like home but doesn't anymore.

"Do you think you'll ever go back?" she asks. "To playing, I mean. For real."

"I don't know." I trace circles on her shoulder with my thumb. "Part of me wants to. Hockey's all I've ever known. But another part of me wonders if that's the problem. Maybe I've been so focused on being a player that I forgot how to be a person."

"You're a person to me."

"I know. That's what makes this so hard." I kiss the top of her head. "When I'm with you, I don't miss it. The games, the pressure, any of it. But when I'm at the arena, I feel like I'm letting everyone down by not wanting it more."

"You can't live your life for other people. You tried that with your family, and look how it turned out."

She's right. I know she's right. But it's one thing to know something and another to feel it.

"The team has a game Saturday," I say. "They want me to suit up. First game back since the suspension."

Kelly sits up, looking at me. "Are you going to do it?"

"I told them I'd think about it." I run a hand over my face. "Coach Morrison says it would be good for me. Get back in the rhythm, show the fans I'm still here. But I don't know if I'm ready."

"Ready for what?"

"The attention. The cameras. Everyone watching to see if I'm going to snap again." I shake my head. "It's a lot."

"Then don't do it." She says it simply, like it's obvious. "If you're not ready, you're not ready. They can wait."

"It's not that simple."

"It is, though. Your mental health matters more than their schedule." She puts her hand on my cheek, turning my face toward her. "Whatever you decide, I support you. But don't let them pressure you into something you're not ready for. Not after everything you've been through."

I look at her—this woman who stood up to my mother, who tells me the truth even when it's hard, who sees me in ways no one else ever has.

"How did I get so lucky?" I ask.

"I've been wondering the same thing."

I kiss her again, and to be honest, I don’t ever want to stop.

Chapter Seventeen

Kelly

The email arrives on a Tuesday.

I almost miss it. It's buried in my inbox between a newsletter I forgot I subscribed to and a spam message about car insurance. The subject line is simple: "Can we talk?" The sender is [email protected].

I stare at it for a long moment before clicking.