Page 91 of Faking the Goal

"...Azuma?"

Taylor's voice sounds distant.

"...A.zu.ma?"

I blink.

She's watching me carefully now, concern replacing the easy smile she'd been wearing a second ago. Her eyes search my face like she's trying to figure out where I disappeared to, but I've spent years making sure nobody can read me that easily.

"You okay?"

"Huh?"

"You kind of..." She gestures vaguely toward me. "Checked out for a minute."

I clear my throat and force my hand to relax.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

She studies me another moment before glancing back at her laptop. "I asked if getting drafted next year is one of your goals."

"I think that's every college hockey player's dream."

"But is it yours?"

I sit up a little straighter, slipping the mask back into place. My thumb traces absentmindedly along the rim of my coffee mug as I search for an answer that isn't a lie.

Of course it's my dream.

It has been ever since I was a kid.

But dreams stop being simple when they come with consequences.

If I chase the NHL, I risk losing the financial support that's keeping my mother's treatments going and my sister in school. If I walk away from that dream instead... I'm walking away from the future I've spent my entire life working toward. And even if I were drafted next June, nothing about it would be simple. I could sign immediately and leave college behind, but with only a year and a half left until graduation, I know exactly how much that would break my mother's heart.

Every option costs someone something.

I've been trying to figure out which price I'm willing to pay for months.

I lift one shoulder in a small shrug, forcing my expression back into something unreadable.

"I guess..." I let out a quiet breath. "We'll see."

Taylor studies me for another second before deciding not to push. She simply nods, types my answer exactly as I gave it, then closes her laptop halfway.

"Last question," she says. "And it's a little more personal, so you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

One corner of my mouth lifts.

"You're asking for permission after interrogating me for the last hour?"

She grins.

"I'm trying this new thing called manners."

"I was wondering what felt different."

She rolls her eyes, laughing.