Chapter 14

Aaron

I laugh at something Cru says as I step into The Penalty Box, our favorite sports bar in Kissing Springs. Trip and Cru follow close behind, laughing as well. There’s an order of hot wings and beer that has my name written on it, and I can’t wait to dive in.

"Man, it's been way too long since we've had one of these nights," Cru says, clapping me on the back as we make our way to a table by the window.

"Tell me about it, but I told you guys we could have gone to my place and played poker," I reply, my gaze sweeping over the bar. "However, it feels like forever since we've just hung out at a bar, you know?"

As we settle into the worn leather seats, I take a second to truly appreciate my best friends. It's been a hell of a week, juggling hockey practice, paramedic shifts, and attempting to find some semblance of personal time. My dad is getting better every day and being able to touch base with Starla each day at least puts a smile on my face.

"Guys, I gotta tell you," I begin, taking a swig of my cold beer. "It's been tough trying to balance everything lately." I feel like since I’ve got more of a handle on things now, I can actually admit that to my friends and not feel like a pansy ass.

"Same here, brother," Trip says. "Between hockey and the ranch work at Overlook, I feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions."

"You guys are always so busy," Cru chimes in, gesturing animatedly as he speaks. "But hey, at least we're all in this together, right?"

"Cheers to down time," I toast, clinking my bottle against theirs before taking another sip.

"So, the ranch’s kicking your ass too?" I ask, curious about this side of Trip and how it’s going for him.

"Yep," he replies, leaning back in his seat. "You know, in exchange for room and board, I help out as a ranch hand. But, damn, it's been tough lately."

"That’s rough. What do they have you doing?" I ask, interested in learning more about what Trip deals with on a daily basis.

"Alright," he begins, pausing to take another sip of his drink. "So, I get up before the crack of dawn and start by feedin' the horses and muckin' out the stalls. Then, I'm off to hockey practice with y'all."

As Trip continues to share his story, I admire him for working both jobs. It's clear he truly loves the life he's built for himself. Yet, just like me, he's struggling to find that elusive equilibrium between work and play.

"By the time I get home from practice, it's back to the ranch for me," he explains. "There is always fences to mend, hay to stack, and new horses to train. The work never really ends."

"Sounds like you've got your hands full," I remark, relating all too well to his situation. Our eyes meet, and we share a silent understanding. We're both doing our best to juggle the demands of our chosen careers, and it's comforting to know that I'm not alone in my struggles.

"Guess we're both just tryin' to make it all work, huh?" Trip chuckles.

"Seems like it," I reply.

"Lately, though," he sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair, "the workload has become too much. I'm stretchin' myself thin between hockey practice and my duties at the ranch."

I watch as he absently traces the condensation on his beer bottle with a finger. It's clear that this is weighing heavily on his mind, and I can't help but relate to his sense of being spread too thin.

"Sounds like we're both caught in the same place," I say with complete understanding. "Trying to balance everything and not letting one passion suffer because of the other."

"Exactly," Trip agrees, nodding his head. "I love what I do, both on the ice and at the ranch, but man, it's tough finding that sweet spot where everything clicks into place."

"Tell me about it," I reply, taking a swig of my beer.

"Maybe we should start our own support group," I joke. "Overworked Hockey Players Anonymous?"

Trip chuckles, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I'd sign up for that in a heartbeat."

"Me too," I admit. "You ever wonder if we've bitten off more than we can chew? I mean, I love being a paramedic and playing hockey, but sometimes... it just feels like too much."

Trip's eyes narrow as he considers my words, taking a slow pull of his own drink before answering. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. There are days when I feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions, and it's hard to know where to focus my energy."

"Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice," I confess in almost a whisper. "What if pursuing both hockey and paramedicine is just setting me up for failure?"

"Come on, Ace. You're one of the most dedicated guys I know," Cru reassures me. "You give your all to everything you do, and that's something to be proud of."

"Thanks, man," I reply. "I guess it's just hard not to feel like I'm constantly letting someone down. Myself included."

"Look," Cru continues, leaning in closer. "We've all made sacrifices for what we love, but that doesn't mean we can't find a way to make it work."

I nod, knowing he's right. It's easy to get caught up in the pursuit of success and forget that we're only human. We have limits, and sometimes, recognizing and accepting those limits is the most important thing we can do.

"Here's to finding balance," I say, raising my glass in toast. My friends follow suit, and we clink our bottles together.

"Finding balance," Trip and Cru echo.