Page 69

Mrs. Woodcock lifted her fingers, wrapping her words in air quotes, and I chuckled.

Her cheeks glowed the softest pink. “Am I showing my age? Well, a friendly ear today is the same as it always was.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Why not? I had to get my thoughts out somehow; to someone. Currently, they swirled around in my head, tripping over each other and making no sense.

“My career is over.” There. I said the words I’d avoided even thinking. Out loud and to another person.

“Oh, yes. I heard something on the news about your situation.”

I stared at her.

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I watch. What I see. There’s not much I don’t know about this town. About what goes on here.”

I swallowed hard under her intense gaze. It was like Mrs. Woodcock had gone all witchy and looked into my soul. Like she’d swap her visor for a pointed hat and take off on a Swiffer at any moment.

“Then you’d know that my team dropped me.” Admitting it out loud was like swallowing razor blades. “It’s done. I’m out.”

“Meaning?”

I let out a heavy breath, running a hand over the back of my neck. “Meaning, what am I gonna do? I’m no good at anything else. Just Hockey. I don’t want to start over again.”

Mrs. Woodcock ran a palm over her fawn slacks. “I see. So without this big contract, there’s nothing you can do?”

“No. Well, I had an offer to coach the junior team in Robin Springs.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh. The Rockets? So many of our townsmen have played for them.”

“Yeah. I played for them too. But coaching a kid’s team isn’t the same as playing in the NHL.”

She huffed a breath. “No, it’s not. There are no sponsors to puff you up in Robin Springs. No news crews following you around, hanging on your every word. No ego to carry with you. When all that’s stripped back, young man, what do you have left?”

I closed my eyes for a long beat before meeting hers. “Nothing.”

Mrs. Woodcock shook her head slowly. “That’s not true now, is it? There’s far more for you in this little town than you realize.”

“More?” I ran my eyes over her face. Why did I feel like she was talking about Ro?

“I’ve known you since you were a little boy, Brody. I see how much your career has meant to you. I’m not saying I’m not proud of you. We all are, but there’s more to life than being in the spotlight. The pressure. It must be all-consuming. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a break? Knowing how far you’ve come?”

A sudden chilly wind rustled the leaves above us. Damn, Mrs. Woodcock was wise. How did she know about the grinding pressure to perform? The sick feeling that filled my gut when I had a poor game. “Itisall-consuming.”

“And what are you really doing it for? The team? The competition?” I nodded, and she smiled. “And you’d still have all that at Robin Springs, just not quite how you pictured. Can you imagine what those kids would say if you took them on?”

I shrugged. “They’d probably hate being coached by someone whose leg let them down. Who’d failed.”

She tutted again. “They’d move heaven and Earth to make you proud. Think. You were just like them once. Full of dreams. It’d be like giving back to everyone who helped you get where you are today.”

I cocked a brow in her direction.

“Well, yesterday, anyway,” she said.

“But it’s not the same. Everyone will forget Flock. Me.”

Mrs. Woodcock placed a small, blue-veined hand on my arm. “No. You’re right. It can’t be the same, and there’s nothing you can do about that. But why can’t it be different? You can’t change what’s happened, but you can grow into it. And the townsfolk would never forget you. Tuft Swallow has a long memory, and we look after our own. Think of the town motto–‘Swallowers always come together.’ As I say, I’ve known you a long time, and I watched you rise from the bottom when you were just a kidrunning your paper route. But I think you need to see the bigger picture.”

I paused. “And you’re going to help me?”

“No, dear. You need to do that for yourself. I’m just going to ask you one question. What if everything you ever needed is right here in Tuft Swallow?”