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My chest tightens.

“Look.” Dexter’s tone softens, and that’s what scares me the most. “You’re at a point in your career where you need to think long-term. Your body’s not going to hold up forever. You take this deal in Boston… you’re securing your legacy.”

Dexter’s jaw tightens. “You stay… you get another year. Maybe two. Then what?”

Coaching. Management. A different life.

A life where I’m not on the ice… but I’mhere.

With them.

I think about Jake.

The way his face lights up when we practice slapshots in the driveway. The way he beams with pride when he calls me his favorite player.

I think about Abby.

The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not watching. The way her laughter feels like home.

They’re not just part of my life now.

Theyaremy life.

But what if staying means resenting the choice I make? That’s what making this difficult.

What if I stay… and one day, I can’t look at Abby without wondering what might’ve been?

What if leaving means breaking Jake’s heart?

What if I loseeverything?

***

“Beck. Beck!”

Dexter’s voice pulls me back to the present, and I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the framed photos on his desk without really seeing them.

“I can’t make this decision for you,” Dexter says softly. “But whatever you choose… you need to be all in.”

All in.

The words echo in my mind, louder than they should be.

“Take a few days,” Dexter adds, his expression gentler now. “But don’t drag this out too long. Boston’s not going wait forever.”

I stand. “Thanks, Dex.”

“Take your time,” he said. “But don’t take forever.”

***

I walk down the hall slowly, passing photos of our championship seasons, past glories and epic moments. My name is etched into that history, sure—but lately, I’ve been asking myself what I want etched into my future.

The truth is, I don’t need the money. Not at all. I’ve played smart, invested smart, and built businesses outside the game. I’m not one of those guys clinging to the game because it’s the only thing keeping me afloat. So why am I even entertaining this Thunderhawks offer like it’s my salvation?

Is it pride? Habit? The idea that if I’m not moving up, I’m falling behind?

Maybe it’s the fear that if I stop playing, I’ll stop mattering.