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“I’ll bet,” Mike says with a chuckle as he heads back to the living room.

My stomach twists. With a sigh, I head to my room so I can change before heading back to the kitchen. I actually don’t mind cleaning up the mess, as the rote work allows time for me to come down off the post-game high.

Hockey players have a variety of post-game rituals. Some want to extend the high, heading out to party or find company for the night. Years ago, Mike suggested I lift weights after a game. It sounded ridiculous to me, but my trainers confirmed that it can help release the buildup of lactic acid and aid in recovery. After giving it a try, I found that I was less sore the morning after if I spent even twenty minutes in the gym post-game. By the time I’m through lifting and showering, usually the buzz of energy has quieted.

But considering the things I’ve been grappling with lately, no amount of deadlifts could make a dent. My brain has been spinning out since my conversation with Naomi at the Summit the other day. Honestly, my head hasn’t been in the right place for a long time.

Coming home tothisonly adds to the mental load. In short, I’m running on fumes, with no gas station in sight.

As I put away food, my thoughts boomerang back to Naomi and Liam.

I’ll admit—having Naomi and Liam move to Harvest Hollow seems like some kind of cosmic sign. It’s my opportunity for a second chance. To right the wrong of leaving in the first place. The brief time I spent alone with Naomi above the ice a few days ago only solidified my desire to put things to rights between us. To confess I want a relationship that is the opposite of casual.

And yet …

I still have the same hesitations and the same fears I did last summer. Liam’s earnest face fills my mind. I can’t stomach the thought of letting him down a second time. I know what that kind of loss feels like, and I already hurt him when I sent him away from my hotel last summer.

I won’t do it again—not to either of them—so I need to be sure before I make any kind of decision.

Sure of what I want. Sure of what I can offer both Naomi and Liam. Sure if I can be the kind of steady person who can commit for the long haul the way my own father didn’t.

Not to me, anyway.

I try not to let bitterness rise up again. For years, I’ve felt okay about my family, but having Mike here has caused a lot of old feelings and memories to resurface. Unpleasant ones, as far as my family goes, tempered by fond memories with Mike. Just having him here makes me happy, even if there’s the bittersweetness ofwhyhe’s here.

If anything, Mike himself is a reminder of how fleeting and uncertain life is, how important it is to make use of the time we have. It makes me want to live without the kind of regrets I’ve been swimming in since this summer.

All this is assuming Naomi would consider a relationship with me again. She didn’t want to even come into the Summit—that’s how much she wanted to avoid seeing me. Am I stupid to think she’s still interested?

But I didn’t imagine the electric tension between us on the catwalk. The air between us practically crackling with tension. Her lips parting as my gaze fell there.

Until Naomi, once again, erected a barrier.

Still—all hope isn’t lost. Probably?

Mike cheers from the other room, and I wonder what it would be like to navigate a relationship with Naomi while he’s living here. Especially when I still don’t know how this will look long-term. In hockey, injured players are said to be day-to-day, week-to-week, or month-to-month. I’m not sure where Mike falls. Month-to-month?

Year-to-year?

I try to imagine broaching this conversation with Naomi.

Hey, want to go on a date? You probably need a babysitter for Liam, and I might need to be home early so I can make sure the grown man living with me doesn’t forget where he is and wander off. You’re welcome to come over any time so long as you don’t mind possibly seeing him in his underwear.

It definitely will be complicated.

I have two interviews set up for potential caretakers to stay with Mike during my upcoming string of road games. I really need one or both of them to work out. Having the first caretaker flake on me just a few weeks in, I’d like to have a list of qualified people. Backups upon backups. A few hours alone, like tonight, is fine, but leaving Mike while I’m out of town for days at a time isn’t a possibility.

“Are you coming?” Mike calls. “Bring me a beer, would ya?”

On my way into the living room, I grab him one of the nonalcoholic beers I’ve started stocking. They taste enough like the real thing that Mike hasn’t said anything. I’m not sure if he hasn’t noticed or just hasn’t questioned it. One more part of his reality he’s just rolling with.

“Have you called home lately?” Mike asks casually, sipping his beer as soon as I place it in his hand.

“No.”

“You should,” he tells me, nodding his head. “I know it’s not easy to let your kid go. They miss you.”

I don’t say anything as I take my seat on the couch, but my hands are shaking.They miss you. I wish Mike could remember enough to know how untrue those words are. He definitely wouldn’t be bringing up my family if he did.