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M ax awoke to the distant sound of the ocean outside Remi’s window and her voice carrying from another room. He found his sweat suit from yesterday cleaned and neatly folded at the end of the bed. Making his way to her kitchen, he caught the tail end of her phone conversation.

“Ok, thanks for keeping me up to date. I hope you find the right care for her. Okay, thanks, you too… Bye.”

Remi was sitting at her small dining room table wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt with a skull on the front; maybe a band logo of sorts, Max couldn't be sure. Her smile perked up at the sight of him, his bare chest, his joggers hugging his thighs, and his feet cold on the old beach house’s wooden floors.

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head and her arms effortlessly wrapped around his waist. “Good morning,” he said to the woman he loved.

She looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around his lower half. “Good morning. Do you want coffee? It’s the worst coffee on the planet, but it’s what I grew up drinking, and old habits die hard, ya know?”

She went to stand to get his coffee, but Max pressed her back down to her seat. “I can get it,” he said, making himself at home and feeling proud of how naturally he took up space in someone else's kitchen. There had been billet homes he lived in for months and months where he never once felt safe enough, or welcomed enough, to serve himself there.

He took the seat across from her at the tiny two-person table that was pressed up against the open window, the chill of November adding an element of laziness to the day. “How’s Mrs. Keller doing?” he asked, assuming the bit of the phone call he heard was about her.

“She has dementia. I don’t know how I didn't see the signs before, but now that her son confirmed it, it all makes sense. I guess last night was a really bad episode. He feels like it's time to move her into a facility that can take care of her.”

“How does that make you feel?” Max asked, sipping the bitter coffee.

“Sad. I just want to save them all, you know? All the lost souls, the people like me and my mom who society gave up on. I want to rescue them from their personal hell, their mental illness, their loneliness. I want to save them so badly, and I know I can't.”

“Hey, you do save them—one house cleaning at a time. That might be the only safe place they have in their lifetime. That moment you give them, even if they’re just going to mess it up again, and again, and again… you give them that peace. Even if it's short-lived.”

She reached across the table and ran her fingers over his knuckles, a few of which were busted. “Thanks again, for helping me last night,” she said softly.

“It felt good to help you. Lately, I wonder what my life will look like when I’m unable to do the thing I’ve built my entire identity around. And I worry I won’t know how to fill that space, or how to be fulfilled. But last night was a huge eye-opener for me—no pun intended.” This made Remi laugh, and honestly, it was nice being able to joke about it all with her. If he couldn't laugh about it, he feared it might consume him completely, essentially breaking him.

“How so?” she asked.

“I guess I got to see how important you are to so many people. You come in and you clean people's homes. Some of us pay you to do it, but you do it for some of these people for free, like Mrs. Keller, out of the kindness of your heart. Some of your clients are just too lazy to clean their own homes, and some of them are entitled, like me, but some of these strangers that you help actually need you, and you show up for them, no questions asked. You help them because you have a good heart, Remi. Not a lot of people have that kind of purpose. Not many people are as quick as you are to give back. I guess it just helped me see that there is no task, no job, no deed too small. You give me hope that when I’m done with hockey, when my eyes won't allow it anymore, that I might be able to find my purpose in something much bigger than being a professional athlete. I might be able to find some way to really give back.”

Remi got up, tears filling her eyes as she took her place in his lap. Straddling him in the small, rickety chair, he feared it might break under the weight of them, but it wouldn't stop him from wrapping his arms around her to keep her there.

“I think you’ll find your purpose, Max. I think your story will be one they talk about for ages. You know you have this platform and this spotlight, and I can see you using it for good. I know that you will bring this unfortunate circumstance from darkness to light in the most beautiful way. And I, for one, cannot wait to see the way you change the world, Max Miller.”

She eased her hand down the plane of his chest, over the black inked lines, her eyes heavy with contemplation.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just, I think it's time you stop counting your losses and started celebrating your wins.”

“It seems silly now, all these immortalized reminders of each game I’ve lost. Had I known then, what I know now, I might have focused more on what really mattered, and less on forgetting what didn't.”

“And what would that have looked like for you? If you hadn’t done this?” she asked, her fingers trailing over the small black slashes covering his bare skin.

“I would have stopped watching the clock countdown to game over and tried harder to enjoy the seconds I had left in the moment. In my team’s wins, and even their losses, the celebrations, the friendships, and just life in general. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for the final minute to be up, and now it’s too late. I’m out of time.”

“You're not out of time, Max. You just need to reset the clock.”

Max pulled her body into his. Her sweet coffee-hinted lips pressed against his, and he kissed her. He kissed her like this moment was theirs because it really was. He was finally done counting down to his end and ready to start living in his now.