Page 183 of Hat Trick

“You are.” He pauses and tips his chin to the tattoo on my bicep. “And how’s Lexi?”

I hesitate before answering his question. It feels like a trap. A trick to get me to blurt out,Oh, fucking fantastic. Have I mentioned I’m in love with her? Because I am. Head over heels, can’t eat, can’t sleep kind of love that makes all the bad shit seem irrelevant.

I casually asked Maverick if he and Emmy got in trouble for starting their relationship back when she was on the team. They didn’t, and she was traded shortly so they didn’t have any other issues, but there’s nothing in the team handbook that says Lexi and I can’t be together. Add on the fact that my contract is murky right now and I don’treallyhave a spot on the Stars’ roster, and I’m ready to defend her if Coach starts talking about moving her to a different department.

“Fine,” I say slowly. “Is there a reason why you’re asking me when you can walk down the hall and ask her yourself?”

“Do you think you’re the only one around here with secrets?” Coach snorts. “Please.”

“She’s, uh, yeah. I mean, we spent weeks together. I couldn’t help?—”

“I don’t care about your personal relationships, Mitchell. It’s not affecting either of your jobs, so I don’t need to hear about how she makes your heart skip a beat and all that other shit.”

“Wow. Not a softie, are you?”

“I got a phone call this morning,” he says, switching gears and avoiding my interrogation. “From Minnesota.”

“Is it about a trade? Am I even eligible for a trade? Oh, shit. Don’t tell me you’re sending Maverick away.”

“Not exactly. They asked about bringing you on as a scout. They want to set up an interview.”

I blink. “What?”

“Their amateur and college scout is heading to LA in a new role, and they’re looking to fill the spot. They’ve been impressed with what you’ve done behind the bench, and with how strong of a collegiate player you were, they think you’d bring a lot to the table.”

“How—is that even allowed?”

“Technically, yes. We’d have to void your contract with the Stars, but unlike being a player, you have the power to turn this down if you don’t want it.”

“I don’t… this is a lot to take in,” I say. “I never… before I got behind the bench, a leadership position wasn’t something I considered. I’m still not sure it’s what I want to do because my heart belongs to skating, but this… it could let me still be around the sport I love. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever be able to play competitively again, even with the progress I’ve made, and this…” I trail off, at a loss for words. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to make a decision today. Think about it. Our scouts are available if you want to talk to them. You can get some different perspectives and some pros and cons.”

“What do you think I should do?” I ask. “If this decision was in front of you?”

“It was in front of me, and I went with the coaching route. Do I regret it?” Coach rubs his jaw and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sometimes, yeah. What if I had rehabbed differently? What if I had taken two years off from playing and stopped trying to rush my recovery? Would my body have healed more strongly? Could I have gotten back on the ice? Maybe. Maybe not. Coaching was a sure thing though, and in the moment, I was afraid to not have a sure thing. I loved the sport too much and I had given it too much of myself to it to walk away empty-handed.”

“Yeah.” I fiddle with the drawstrings on my joggers and stare at my thighs. “That makes sense.”

“If I had the choice again today I don’t know what I would do, but you have to think long-term. What makes you happy? What’s going to get you up out of bed every morning, even on the days you don’t want to? Because you and I both know you’re going to have a fuck ton of those.”

I had one yesterday. It was the worst I’ve had in a while. I pulled my covers over my head and massaged my residual limb as I told myself the pain would go away soon. Even breathing felt difficult, a pressure on my chest that stayed there for three hours. I had to actively fight back against the demons in my head that called me weak when I grabbed my crutches, but I persevered. I came out on top, and today is better.

Can I be a scout who doesn’t know what kind of pain he’s going to be in until he climbs out of bed? Can I really decide which players are worthy of a spot on an NHL roster when I’m not on one myself? Is that fair to their livelihood, the power of their futures in the hand of someone who can’t skate for more than ten minutes before he has to stop?

“I need to think about it,” I say. “I need to… I should talk to?—”

“Lexi,” he finishes for me. “I figured. It’s a big decision. One you’re not making for only yourself. I told Minnesota you’d have an answer by the time the postseason wrapped up, and with how all these series are going to game sevens, I can buy you until mid-June.”

Mid-June. The one-year anniversary of the night that changed everything.

What a fucking coincidence.

I rub a hand over my chest and nod. “Okay. I’ll, uh. Report back.”

“Remember what we talked about, Riley. What would you tell your younger self if you found out you got a second chance at life, and you finally started fucking living again?”

I’d tell him he’s going to have a lot of lows, the darkest hours he could ever imagine, but he’s also going to have a lot of highs. A lot of new experiences that are going to change and shape him. I’d let him know he’s skating again, that love still there even after it was almost snatched away from him.

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