Page 4 of Taking The Shot

He texted, slapped his phone onto his chest and then paused as his phone rang.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“I need to talk to you—and you need to listen.”

Keith didn’t say a word. He just sat there, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles ached, while his agent’s voice poured through the speaker. Each word was a hammer, shattering the last fragile pieces of hope he hadn’t realized he was still clingingto. The worst part? He wasn’t even surprised. It was happening exactly the way he had feared, in the same cold, indifferent way it always did.

He didn’t fight. Didn’t argue.

He just listened.

Every muscle in his body locked up, his pulse a slow, dull thud against his temples as the truth unfolded in painstaking detail. It didn’t matter what he had given. Didn’t matter how many hours he’d spent training, pushing himself past the brink, or how much of himself he’d sacrificed. None of it mattered. The decision had already been made.

And there was nothing—nothing—he could do to stop it.

By the time the call ended, he was already numb. He lowered the phone from his ear with a slow, mechanical movement, staring at the screen for a long moment before it dimmed and went dark. His fingers curled around it, his breath hitching in his throat as he closed his eyes.

That was it.

He was going to be fired from the Coyotes, and word had already reached his agent – who presented another gig to him. There was a new team in Quebec they were assembling, and they wanted experience and skill, and requested Keith as the captain of the new hockey team. On top of it all, they already knew about his past, and they still wanted him, but under one massive condition.

Marriage.

He swallowed painfully and texted Thierry back.

I’ll meet you Wednesday at the church.

2

CONSTANCE

“Mommmm… can we go?”

Constance looked at her daughter Paige and sighed. Her daughter would never understand that it was killing Constance to stay in the house, surrounded by memories, ignoring the phone calls from creditors, and swamped by anxiety because her life felt completely out of control, and she hoped her child never had to experience any of this. Adjusting slightly, she set Kayla down beside her, who immediately flung her little arms up into the air, wanting to be picked up once again.

“Paige, please don’t start,” Constance uttered quietly, looking at her child and realizing just how much she was like her – once, long ago. “This makes me feel good to help others, to give back, and it costs us nothing but time and energy to give help to someone else who might be struggling too.”

“But Mom… this is gross stuff. I mean, look,” Paige held up a can and made a face. “Beets. No one likes veggies, much less beets. This can is beets, and this can, and this one, and this one… they are all beets or lima beans because people don’t eat that stuff. It’s gross. So why would you give it away to someone needy?”

“Because when you need help, you accept it from wherever it comes and find gratitude in knowing you’ve put off that feeling of hopelessness one more day.”

“With beets?”

“With anything that fills your belly or warms your heart,” Constance said tenderly, smoothing the young girl’s hair. “I know it’s hard because you don’t understand, but to some of the people here – they are happy for those beets, for the lima beans, for the hominy…”

“Ugh, hominy!” Paige interrupted, shivering – and she heard a man chuckle in the distance, almost looking to see who it was that laughed at her daughter’s behavior.

“And those cans will help fill the bellies of beautiful children like you and Kayla,” she finished quietly. “Not everyone gets grilled cheese or dino nuggets.”

“They should,” her daughter muttered under her breath – and Constance hugged her.

“Yes, they should, sweetie.”

Her daughter sighed, rolled her eyes, stomped a foot, and then looked at her warily before letting her shoulders sag. They weren’t leaving, and that was finally sinking in.

“Help me fill another bag with food and toiletries.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

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