Page 134 of Hockey Boy

I flex my fingers beneath my gloves, desperate to regain sensation in my extremities, and will myself to focus on the game.

“You okay?” Hall asks from my left.

I nod, though I keep my attention on the ice.

The next period is much the same, though near the end, I’m on a breakaway one second, and in the next, I’m on the other side of the rink, having no memory of scoring a goal.

War and Hall jump on me, jostling me so roughly I nearly tumble to the ice. The crowd is screaming, chanting, though I can’t make out their words.

Gavin slaps me on the back as I come in for the change-out. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Finally, energy surges through me, and breathing comes a bit easier.

Keegan and Camden weave down the ice, and using a technique I taught him last week, Keegan sails the puck into New York’s net. We’re on our feet, screaming, and then it’s back to the center for faceoff.

“Heard about the trade rumors,” Pochenko taunts.

“Fuck you, Potato,” War sneers. “Lep, head in the game.”

“Yeah, listen to your captain,” Lukov sings.

I shake my head, tuning them all out, and blink away the black spots dancing in front of me again.

When the ref drops the puck and I scoop it out from beneath Pochenko’s stick, my toes dig into my skates, powering me forward.

“Slide to the left,” Hall calls.

Following Hall’s command, I send the puck to War on my right and quickly duck as War sends it flying over my head to Hall, who’s now on a breakaway. We’re all rushing down the ice, Lukov on my toes, constantly going for my skates with his stick.

I almost stumble, but I right myself, and with my chest burning, I rush forward again.

“Where’s the fucking penalty, ref?” War shouts from my side.

“Can’t stay up on your skates. Can’t keep a fiancée to save your life,” Lukov taunts as New York’s goalie blocks Hall’s first attempt.

I ignore Lukov, but I’m hit with an intense need to see Lennox. I look to the box where the girls sit, only to find Sara, Hannah, and Ava sitting side by side. No Lennox.

My head swims, and dread builds, weighing me down.

Of course she’s not here. Why would she be? Her father told her he’d turn over the trust. She doesn’t need you.

I’m still skating forward, but the play in front of me is nothing but a blur.

“Lep,” War calls, that single word far away and garbled.

Then I’m hit from behind and crumpling to the ice. And finally, I welcome the darkness.

My dearest Lennox,

I know you are probably very angry with me. But please know I have only the best intentions, and I love you.

Do you remember that little gelato shop in Positano? You forced me to go there every day while we were in town. And while the flavors were dream-worthy, don’t think I didn’t catch you staring dreamily at the little chapel in the square, watching bride after bride marry her sweetheart. When I asked if you’d ever thought about your own wedding, you looked me dead in the eye, chin held high, and told me you were never getting married. Despite your defiance and the fire in your eyes, I saw beneath the mask. I saw the hurt girl who couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but the boy whose heart she broke.

You can do anything you set your mind to. You just need to be pushed and supported. I think there was a time in your life when you believed it. When you would look at something that the rest of the world might pass by andfind joy. Find beauty in the unexpected. Now you just keep walking. You’re too young to be this jaded. Too young to not believe in yourself. Instead of running away, take a moment to really sit and think. What do you want to do with your life? If you could have everything—if you could do anything—what would it be?

All I want is for you to be happy. To choose joy. To chase it, really. Do me a favor. Think of the last time you felt true joy. Do you have it? Do you remember? If I’m right, and I think I am, you know what you need to do.

If you still haven’t figured it out, I’ve left another letter with my attorney. He’ll call you the day before your birthday. Make sure you get over there in time.