Page 78 of Second Chance Faceoff

“She’d also tell me I still need work.”

Ryan shrugged. “Good coaches keep pushing.”

He paused, then glanced at me more directly. “But they only help if you listen. You did, so this turnaround is about you, too. You’re going back up because you deserve it. Step on the ice like you belong there. Because you do.”

I know I do. It's just nice to hear someone else say that.

“Colton, now that I no longer have to keep your ass in line, I want you to know something.” He paused, “You’re still that guy who drove us to the hospital when my dad was sick.”

A beat.

“When you aren’t being a jerk.”

I huffed out a laugh, dragging a hand over my face. “Your sister told me the same thing.”

Ryan smirked. “You should probably listen to her.”

***

The parking lot outside the rescue was quiet. The building was dark except for the single motion-activated light over the entrance. I let myself in with the spare key Riley had once tossed at me.

I didn’t turn on all the lights. Just enough to see where I was going.

The kennel near the back rustled as the big one—Tank, the one Riley always said needed extra exercise—stood up and let out a soft whine. He thumped his tail once against the side of the enclosure.

“Yeah, I hear you,” I muttered. “You look like you could use a run.”

So could I.

I grabbed a leash and opened the gate. Tank didn’t hesitate. He followed me out like we’d done this routine a hundred times.

Out back, under the dim floodlights that barely reached the dog run, I tossed a half-chewed tennis ball across the space. Tank tore after it, paws kicking up dirt, ears flapping. He raced back and dropped the ball at my feet.

I threw it again. And again.

Each toss, each run, each drop—it gave me something to latch onto while my thoughts circled everything that had hit me today.

Colton, are you sure before you walk away?

You deserve this call-up.

Step on the ice like you belong there.

The ball hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling to a stop near my foot. This time, the dog didn’t wait for me to throw it. He nudged my leg, waiting. I crouched beside him, fingers curling into his fur.

After a while, when Tank slowed down and flopped in the corner with his tongue lolling, I walked him back inside andreturned him to his kennel. He didn’t complain. Just wagged his tail once and curled up.

I moved down the line, refilling water bowls. One by one. The metal clink of the pitchers breaking the silence.

“Bet you’re all wondering what I’m doing here.” A few of them blinked up at me. One barked. I shook my head.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here.” I kept moving. Quiet. Methodical. Dropped a treat into one bowl, then another.

“I’m leaving,” I said finally. “Got the call. They want me back. Tomorrow.” No barks this time. Just tails thumping. Heads tilted.

“I should be excited, right? Big shot comeback. I did what I came here to do.” I stopped at the last kennel—the one with the scruffy little guy Riley always said was the best judge of character.

He watched me closely. I opened his kennel and stepped in. “But it doesn’t feel done.”

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