Page 92 of Out Of Time

“Can I pet him?” Max asked.

“I think he might not let you leave if youdon’tpet him,” Nicole said, her sympathetic smile returning.

Max looked down at the dog and brought both of his big hands up to scratch under Shepard’s ears. “Are you a good boy?” he asked, Shepard’s tail instantly started wagging. “Did you come over here to cheer me up buddy?” Max asked, the dog nuzzled his head against Max’s hand.

Remi looked between Max and the dog. It was the best smile she had seen on his face in a while, it was childlike and gentle. With each tail wag and nuzzle of his face against Max’s hand, Remi watched the anxiety in Max’s body melt away.

Max looked up at her, catching her smiling at him and Shepard. “I like the dog,” he said simply.

“Shepard is an amazing boy. Sometimes I feel like he can read emotions,” Nicole added.

Max looked back down at the dog. “Then you must know that you are making me very happy right now, Shepard,” Max said.

The dog’s tail wagged some more.

This was never going to be an easy visit, but Remi was grateful for Shepard lightening the mood.

“Have you ever had a dog, Max?” Nicole asked.

He shook his head and looked over at Remi and smiled. “No, but I have an adopted betta fish named Bozo.”

Remi’s heart warmed with love for this amazing man, pushing back tears from her eyes.

“Well, you can’t have a seeing-eye fish, but dogs are incredible resources for the vision-impaired community,” Nicole teased, and Remi found it refreshing that there was humor to be had here.

Nicole went on for the next hour of their meeting detailing the levels of technology and resources that were out there for Max. Remi took notes and opened tabs in her search browserof things she wanted to have a little more in-depth look into when she got home. And while Remi knew all the technology in the world wasn’t going to make this any easier on Max, she was grateful it was available. Even more so, she was thankful that he was willing to be here at Lighthouse when she knew what he really wanted to do was avoid it altogether, to live in denial until what vision he had left was gone.

It was game one of the playoffs.

Histeam had made the playoffs.

He wouldn’t be playing, not tonight in Anaheim, and not at the next game in San Jose against the Threshers. While it pained Max to be back in this arena in a suit instead of his jersey, he knew he had to be there. For his team, for his own mental health, and because he wanted to share this with Remi while it still felt like it was his.

She sat next to him, holding his hand, and he couldn’t help but love the way she looked in the fresh Condors hoodie he got for her to wear to the game. The other players and Condor’s affiliates in the box welcomed Remi with open arms, like a family member, while they expressed their condolences to Max. Some of them handled it better than others; they asked good questions and didn’t shy away from his situation. Some treated him like he was given a death sentence—those were the harder people to deal with. At the end of the day, he just wanted everyone to treat him normally and look him in the eyes when they spoke to him. He didn’t want his vision loss to be the maincharacter in his life, not when only a month ago he was Max Miller, the goalie.

They all stood as the National Anthem was sung. Max closed his eyes to steady his breathing, to try and calm his heart rate, to prepare for what was to come. Puck drop. Brown in net. The timer showing fifteen minutes. Game one out of a possible seven-game series.

The Stanley Cup playoffs—it was the hardest trophy to win—and he would never know what it felt like.

This would be okay.

He would be okay.

The anthem ended, and everyone in the box clapped and cheered as the lights came up. Max blinked. He blinked again. If he was in the net at this very moment, he wouldn’t be able to see his own feet, let alone a tiny black puck. His stomach ached with longing to turn back time to when he still thought he just needed glasses for night driving, a time when he thought everyone struggled to make out sharp images in the dark, a time when he was unaware and naïve enough to hide away in his denial.

The puck dropped and the game was officially underway, but Max couldn’t make out anything past the box.

“You, okay?” Remi asked, leaning into his ear, “You look pale.”

“Low blood sugar,” he joked, but both he and Remi knew that wasn’t the case.

“Blood sugar aside, how’s your heart? How’s your head?” she asked.

He wiped anxious hands on his deep blue suit pants. “Heart is very happy that you’re next to me. Head…” he said and stopped to think, “My head is a mess, Rem.”

“You know, we don’t have to stay,” she assured him. “Your team will understand.”

He looked around the box, some of the people affiliated with his team were standing and watching with plates of food in their hands, others sat in their seats, their focus intent on the game. He didn’t miss the way their eyes found his before darting back to the ice.Pity.He hated it.

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