Chapter NINETEEN Lexi

That night, counting down to the big game, I hermit up in my dorm room and wallow in indecision. My graduation cap stares at me from its perch atop a stack of textbooks like it's mocking my indecision. I flop back onto my bed, surrounded by brochures from various physical therapy clinics and sports medicine programs. These were plans for after school—each one whispers promises of a future. But there’s another decision I need to make first. And all I can hear is the ticking clock in my head reminding me that time is running out to make a choice.

Stay with The Aces, or go to Chicago.

Wes, who I'm almost committed to, or Noah, who is play-acting at love with someone else, and that someone else isn't as shallow as I first judged her to be?

Chicago means uprooting myself so close to finishing school here, but the resume boost, the bona fides of an internship at the facility—worth it? Ashville is smaller, less prestigious. Coach Thompson is on the overbearing side, and I’m walking on eggshells with him. But staying here means Wes—but also Noah and that complication.

I sit up and run a hand through my hair, pulling it away from my face and into a makeshift ponytail. The air in the room feels heavy with the weight of looming adulthood and the decisions that come with it. It's as if every pamphlet is a diverging path in a dense forest, and I'm supposed to just pick the right one blindfolded.

A sigh escapes me. There’s only one man I need right now, and I pick up phone to call him.

***

The evening frost clings to the dead grass as I make my way to the secluded garden on campus. It's a hidden gem that most students overlook, but for me, it's a sanctuary. Nestled between two brick buildings, this patch of nature is where I can breathe, where the weight of impending decisions doesn't feel quite so crushing. Even in winter, it's lovely. I can picture the blooms come spring.

I settle onto the weathered wooden bench, the one with the peeling blue paint that somehow feels like home. I close my eyes and tilt my face up, breathing deep.

"Deep in thought?" The voice, familiar and comforting, pulls me back to reality.

My eyes snap open to find my dad standing there, an affectionate smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. I’ve never been happier that he lives so close. Lots of twenty-somethings would be thrilled to be on a different continent than their parents. But since mom died—I was in middle school, but it hurts fresh every time I think about it—Dad and I have been inseparable.

"Always," I reply, scooting over. He takes a seat beside me, his presence a solid reassurance.

"Come on, Lexi. Let's grab some hot chocolate. I think we could both use it."

We walk side by side to the cozy café that's become my go-to for late-night study sessions and post-game celebrations. Once we're settled into the squishy armchairs with our steaming drinks, Dad leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, exuding the same intensity he brought to every game he coached.

"About the internship, Lexi—you've got your mother's spirit but my indecisiveness off the ice," he begins, his gaze steady. "But don't let that stop you from listening to your heart."

I wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, the heat seeping into my palms. "It's not always that simple, Dad."

"Nothing worth having ever is." He chuckles softly, taking a sip of his hot chocolate before continuing. "When I was your age, I thought I had everything figured out. Then life threw me a curveball—your mom."

I can't help but smile at the mention of Mom, her vibrant laughter still echoes in my memories.

"Meeting her changed everything. I had to learn that following my dreams didn't mean giving up on love or family. It meant integrating them into the dream, making it richer."

"But what if my dreams take me one way and... and Wes's go another? Or what if I’m supposed to be with Noah—and that’s messy? What if it’s neither, but Chicago on my own?" My voice is barely above a whisper, the fear of the answer clawing at my throat.

"Then you talk, you compromise, and sometimes..." He pauses, searching for the right words. "Sometimes, you take a leap of faith. But remember, Lexi, you're a force to be reckoned with—on and off the ice. Don't lose sight of who you are and what you want."

His words settle over me, a gentle reminder of the strength I've always drawn from my family, from the sport that's shaped me. I nod slowly, letting the wisdom of his advice sink in.

"Thanks, Dad. I needed that."

"Anytime, kiddo." He reaches over, squeezing my hand. "Now, finish that hot chocolate before it gets cold. It's not good for the soul to let chocolate go to waste."

"Never," I say with mock solemnity, lifting the mug to my lips. As I drink, the warmth of the chocolate and the warmth of my father's love bolster me, reminding me that no matter where life's rink may take me, I won't be facing it alone.

I check my watch after my mug is empty, and anxiety rears up, fresh. “Dad, I gotta go.”

All of my decisions will have to wait—until after playoffs.