Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Tonight is a step forward, a chance to be like family, which I know is important to all of us.
“Smells amazing, Mr. Johnstone,” Shawn says as he leans casually against the counter, sneaking a roll from the basket before I can slap his hand away.
“Thanks,” Dad replies, his tone gruff but warm. “And you can call me Tom. You used to.”
“That was before we were trying to impress you.”
Dad chuckles and pulls the bubbling lasagna from the oven, setting it on the counter to cool. “It’ll take more than last-naming me to do that.”
Jacob steps in, his presence quieter but commanding as always. He takes a stack of plates from the counter and carries them to the table, his movements slow but deliberate. The new medication he’s taking to dull his pain is dulling his reactions, too. No wonder his expression is tight. For a man so used to moving with fluid speed and grace, this new, slower way of being must be alien.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile, handing him silverware to set out.
He glances at me, his icy blue eyes softening. “This is nice.”
I look over at Dad, who’s laughing with Hayes and Shawn, and smile. “Yeah. It really is.”
Turning, I find the picture of Jacob, Shawn, and Hayes that’s been a feature of our home since we left. Their young, smiling faces once served as a reminder of the past, a simpler time filled with unspoken possibilities. Now, that same photo feels reframed, infused with the present we’re savoring and the future we’re daring to dream of.
I could never have imagined how life would twist and turn to bring us here. The path hasn’t been easy, but it’s been full of surprises, some heartbreakingly hard, others impossibly beautiful.
Dad laughs at something Shawn says, a rich, carefree sound that fills the room. The warmth of it swells inside me, too big to contain. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the happiness coursing through me, unsure how to handle the depth of it all.
The conversation over lunch starts off light, with Dad asking for updates about the school, and team gossip. Shawn gives a dramatic reenactment of Malik’s accidentally skating into a water cooler during practice.
“It wasn’t accidental,” Shawn insists, waving his fork for emphasis. “He thought he could deke out the cooler to impress some girl in the stands. Tripped over his own skates and went flying.”
Hayes shakes his head, grinning. “Bet Coach loved that.”
“Coach said he’d put Malik in charge of organizing team hydration for the next away game as punishment,” Shawn says, his grin turning wicked, and Jacob snort-laughs, which has been a rare sound these past weeks.
“And how are you feeling, Jacob?” Dad says, reaching for his bottle of beer.
The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn to Jacob. He sets his fork down carefully, leaning back in his chair as he exhales through pursed lips.
“Better,” he says. “The new meds are helping with the headaches. I’m sleeping more, which has made a huge difference. But it’s going to be a process. At least that’s what my doctors say.”
Dad nods, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad you’re getting the support you need. Facing this head on takes courage.”
I glance at my dad, catching the weight in his words. He’s thinking about Carl and the way he hid his symptoms.
“I’ve been thinking about what comes next,” Jacob says. “About what happens after hockey. I didn’t think there was anything else for me. Hockey was everything. But now… I want to find something that’s going to be my thing, not something I’m doing because our father wanted me to.”
“Like what?” I ask gently, my hand brushing his under the table.
“I’ve been looking into some organizations that work with athletes dealing with concussions and post-concussive syndrome,” he explains. “They help players, and their families deal with the changes it can cause, and leagues understand the risks and implement safety protocols. I think I could do something there with my experience to make a difference.”
My chest tightens with pride as I listen to him. It’s the first time I’ve heard him talk about a future outside of playing hockey, the first time his eyes lit up when he talks about the years ahead, and it’s a turning point.
“And maybe coaching,” Jacob adds, glancing at Hayes. “Working with younger players, teaching them how to play smart and stay safe… that’s something I’d like to explore.”
Hayes nods, his expression unreadable at first, but then he smiles faintly. “You’d be good at that. Both things... and speaking of futures,” Hayes says, setting his fork down, “I told Coach I’m officially retiring at the end of the season.”
The table goes quiet again, but this time, the silence is lighter and more thoughtful.
“Are you at peace with that?” Dad asks.
Hayes nods. “Yeah. It’s time. I’ve given everything I can to the game, and I’m ready to move on. I’ve been thinking about some options, but nothing’s set yet. For now, I just want to finish the season strong.”