Page 58 of The Parent Playbook
Angel’s watching me, her eyes sharp. “You’re thinking about Lily,” she says, not a question but a statement.
I nod, because she’s right. “I know Lily thinks things aregoing well here, but …” I trail off, the weight of the decision pressing down on me.
If I choose the ice, I’m choosing a life far from the quiet safety of our life in Colorado.
“It’s not only about what I want,” I continue, my voice low, almost lost beneath the hum of the Zamboni. “It’s about what’s best for her. Right now, I think that’s a life where her dad isn’t chasing old dreams.”
Angel’s expression relaxes, and she lays a kind hand on my arm. “I get it, Scotty. Really, I do, but don’t you think she’d want you to be happy too? Isn’t that part of what’s best for her?”
Her words echo in my head as I watch the clean ice, pristine and untouched. A fresh start. Isn’t that what I came here for? To give Lily that fresh start?
As much as part of me yearns to say yes, to strap on my skates and step back into the game, another part knows that my place isn’t on the ice anymore. It’s with Lily, wherever that might be.
“Thanks, Angel,” I finally say, giving her a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “For everything.”
She squeezes my arm, then lets go and walks away.
If this is what’s right, why does it feel ever so wrong?
Doug claps me on the back, his hand heavy and sure. “Just saw your charity lady rushing through the corridor,” he says, “and she looked rather upset.” Doug’s eyes narrow a bit as he studies me, the usual easy-going jest fading from his expression. “Scotty, we need to talk,” he starts, his voice different from what I’m used to. We move to a quieter corner of the rink, away from the fading echoes of practice.
“You’re still thinking of heading back to Colorado, huh?” Doug leans against the wall, crossing his arms. It’s not his usual style to dive into personal matters; Doug’s more the type to let you figure out your own mess—unless he really thinks you’re about to screw up big time.
“Yeah, I … It’s complicated, Doug,” I reply, feeling the weight of the decision all over again.
Doug listens as I lay out my reasons—stability for Lily, a job that doesn’t ask too much of me, a life where I can keep my head down and focus on being a dad. Each point feels solid, necessary, but Doug’s not buying it.
“For every reason you’ve got to go back, I bet you’ve got one to stay that you’re not admitting,” Doug counters after I’ve finished. “Don’t tell me it’s not about Angel, because even a blind man could see you’ve got it bad for her.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Doug raises a hand, stopping me mid-breath. “What about being part of something bigger again? You’ve got what it takes, and there’s a good life to be had here. Especially if I give you an opportunity to stay on and play with a permanent team here.”
My jaw drops. “You’re going to what?”
“The point is, you have an opportunity here that is much greater than you know.”
“It’s just I’m concerned that?—”
“Quit with the justs, Scotty. I’ve watched you. You’re alive here, man. That’s worth more than any safe job or quiet life. And Lily, she’s thriving too.” Doug’s voice quietens, his usual gruffness fading away. “A few bumps are going to happen no matter where you are.”
I can’t deny it. Lily’s laughed more here, connected more in these couple of months, and come out of her shell in a way I’ve never seen before. That’s what scared me.
But I’ve never been a guy who makes decisions based on fear.
Doug points a finger at me, his next words firm, accepting no argument. “Don’t do something you’ll regret because you’re scared, Scotty. Take the risk. For you, for Lily, for what you could have here. Don’t let something great pass you by.”
“Thanks, Doug,” I manage, my voice rough. “I’ll think about it.”
Doug claps me on the shoulder again, this time a gentler touch. “That’s all I’m asking, buddy. Think about it.”
He turns to head to the locker room, but then stops. “Now, Scotty, get your act together. We’ve got to win this last game!”
Game time.
The buzzer sounds, and this match with the Lumberjacks is tense before it begins.
The arena is a sea of colors as the stands practically vibrate. I’m behind the bench, clipboard in hand, but every play is etched into my mind, not on paper.
The first period kicks off with an intensity that matches the playoff atmosphere. Our guys hit the ice hard. Dawson, guarding the net like a fortress, manages a series of sharp saves that draws cheers loud enough to rattle the glass. Dan Roberts, wearing the proud #29, is on fire tonight, slipping through defenders with a grace that makes it look like he’s skating on air.
