40. Sean

40

Sean

Practice is relentless today, the ice a blur under my skates as I try to keep pace with the drills. The puck snaps back and forth between us like it’s caught in a high-speed game of pinball. I manage to dart past defenders, lining up for a slap shot. It’s one of those perfect moments—everything aligns, and I let it rip. The puck sails past our goalie, clanging into the net with a satisfying sound that feels like victory.

But as the adrenaline fades, a sharp pain shoots through my shoulder, stealing the triumph. I skate over to the bench, wincing.

"Hey man, you alright?" Parker, one of our forwards, claps me on the back as I drop onto the bench.

"Just need a minute," I manage to say, trying to mask the pain with a half-smile.

They continue with the drills, their laughter and shouts echoing across the rink. I sit there, my glove off, massaging my shoulder, feeling suddenly disconnected. The nightmare from last night isn't helping, flashing through my mind—me, turning on my attacker, the terrifying moment when I realized I'd pushed Aubrey out of bed instead.

Aubrey suggested therapy. And damn, maybe she's right. Maybe I do need to talk to someone about this—the pain, the fear, the nightmares. I need to be the man she believes I can be, the father Luke deserves.

"Ice, you sure you're good?" Coach calls over, his brow creased with concern.

"Yeah, just tweaked it a bit. I'll be fine," I lie, giving him a thumbs up.

But as I sit, watching my teammates, the isolation creeps in. I'm sidelined, feeling benched in a game I used to dominate. How did I get here, fearing that I’m one hit away from losing everything?

What do I do? How do I untangle this mess I've made of my life? Aubrey and Luke deserve better than a broken man.

The pain is a white-hot line of fire across my shoulder, and I can barely focus as I glide off the ice, heading straight for Sam Cortez. He’s our team's go-to for anything related to conditioning or injuries, and right now, I’m desperate.

"Sam, I need something, man," I say, gritting my teeth as another wave of pain rolls through me. "It’s bad today."

Sam looks at me with a mix of concern and frustration. "Sean, we've talked about this. Playing through this kind of pain isn’t just tough, it’s reckless. You need to consider taking some time off. Serious time off – like a few years."

"A few years?" I shoot back, incredulous. "If I do that, I might as well hang up my skates for good."

"That might be the reality you're facing," Sam replies sternly. "If you keep ignoring your body's limits, retirement won’t be a choice—it’ll be the only option left."

I shake my head, stubborn, unable to accept that. "There’s got to be something else we can try. Anything."

Sam exhales heavily, then nods toward the locker room. "I can give you an IV dose of those herbal meds I mentioned before. They're potent and can help you manage the pain temporarily. But listen, Sean, the side effects can be intense. You shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous afterward."

"I’ll do it," I agree without hesitation. "Just help me get through today."

"Alright," Sam says as he leads me to a more private area. "But listen to what I’m saying, bud. Take it easy for a while.”

"Deal," I reply, feeling a mix of relief and dread. The idea of needing such drastic measures just to manage pain is a stark reminder of how bad things have gotten.

As Sam prepares the IV, I can’t help but think about Aubrey and Luke. What am I doing to myself? To them? The fear of losing hockey is nothing compared to the fear of losing them.

But right now, I’m just trying to survive the day.

The rush of relief from the IV is almost immediate, and as I stand up from the treatment table, I can already feel a significant decrease in pain. Sam gives me a stern look, his final warning hanging in the air.

"Just remember, bud, no alcohol or any other substances tonight," Sam instructs with a firm tone. "And really, you should consider staying at a hotel nearby, just to be safe."

"Got it, no worries," I assure him, though the itch to get back home is already nagging at me. As I head out to my car, the fresh air hits me, and I feel revitalized, almost invincible. I slip behind the wheel, and just as I’m about to start the engine, my phone pings with a new message.

It’s a photo from Aubrey. Luke’s there, grinning ear to ear as he plays with Pokey, looking every bit the bundle of joy he always is. The sight of him, so happy and carefree, stirs something deep within me. Maybe tonight’s the night. Maybe it’s time Luke knew the truth about his dad.

I start the car, my heart swelling with a mix of anticipation and determination. Across the street, the hotel Sam mentioned looms—a sensible choice, a safe choice. But the pull of home, of Aubrey and Luke, is too strong. I feel great, better than I have in weeks. What could go wrong?

Shaking off any lingering doubts, I pull out onto the road, the hotel fading from view in my rear mirror. Tonight’s for family, for revelations. Tonight, I’m going home.

As I cruise down the highway, the excitement of heading home pumps through me like adrenaline. Every mile closer to Luke and Aubrey sharpens the image of Luke's wide-eyed surprise when I get to tell him I'm his dad. That is, of course, if Aubrey thinks it’s the right time. The thought alone is enough to stretch my smile wider.

I imagine scooping Luke up, feeling his little arms wrap around my neck, and the world just seems right. But then, my thoughts drift to Aubrey—her strength, her patience with me through all the chaos I've brought into her life. I blink hard, a sudden wave of fatigue washing over me, but I shake it off. This isn’t the time for tiredness; I’ve got important things to focus on.

I think about how she’s handled everything with such grace, and a realization hits me hard—I owe her more than I’ve given. Right there, with the hum of the road beneath me, I make a silent vow to myself and to her. I’m going to dive into therapy, give it everything I've got. I’m going to be the man she deserves, the man Luke deserves. They’ve both given me so much; it’s time I stepped up.

The road stretches out ahead, the rhythmic passing of the streetlights lulling yet I push against the weariness creeping at the edges of my consciousness. No, I can’t let fatigue get the better of me now, not when I’ve got so much to look forward to, so much to make right. Tonight’s the night for new beginnings, for promises of a better, stronger future.

With each mile ticking by, my resolve hardens—tonight, I start repaying Aubrey’s faith in me. Tonight, I start being the father and husband I know I can be.

The thrill of imagining a future where everything falls into place fills me up like a winning goal in overtime. Me, back in the NHL, maybe even snagging a spot with Chicago—now that would be the comeback of the century. I could have it all: the big city career and the rustic charm of the ranch on weekends. Building a little getaway spot on the property, where Aubrey, Luke, and I could escape whenever the mood struck us. It’s a picture-perfect vision.

But as I weave through the possibilities in my mind, another wave of fatigue crashes over me, stronger and more insistent than before. My eyelids are heavy, like they've got weights attached to them. I tell myself to push through; I'm nearly home, nearly back to Aubrey and Luke.

The road ahead blurs, my thoughts scatter, and my head starts to nod. I blink rapidly, trying to fend off the sleep that claws at the edges of my consciousness. "Just a little further," I murmur, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet hum of the car.

But the fatigue is a beast tonight, unrelenting and ferocious.

My eyes slip shut for just a moment too long.

The last thing I hear is the desperate squeal of tires frantically trying to grip the asphalt, the sound slicing through the air. Then, a jarring crash catapults me into darkness, the dreams of the future extinguished by a sudden, overwhelming black.