The Hockey Star Regret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

HAYDENThe call came out of nowhere.I was halfway through lacing my skates for morning practice when my phone buzzed on the bench. I almost ignored it. I'm usually good at tuning out distractions before I hit the ice, but the name flashing across the screen made me freeze.It was my mom.I hadn’t heard from her since… well, since before camp. And now, weeks later, she was calling me? I hesitated, staring at the screen like it might explode. Jason, who was sitting two lockers down, noticed.“You gonna get that?” he asked, leaning back with that lazy grin. “Or do you need me to tell your mom you’re too cool to talk?”I shot him a glare but answered anyway, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”“Hayden,” her voice was smooth and polite, like we were strangers. “I just realized I never asked you about that hockey camp you went to. How did it go?”I blinked, surprised she even remembered. “It went great. Intense, but… worth it. I learned a lot.”“That’s good.” There was an awkward pau

HAYDENI didn’t know the best way to explain it, but game days had a rhythm.It usually felt like a ritual of sorts. Every player had their game day routine, most people were even superstitious about it, but I didn't think it was that deep. I would admit that one's game day routine played a significant role in their preparedness.For me, I like to wake up early, shake off the nerves with coffee that was probably stronger than it needed to be, run through warm-ups until my legs feel alive, and try not to overthink the fact that the stands would be full by puck drop. Usually, I was good at keeping my head down, it was just me, my teammates, and the ice.But today? I could already feel the eyes.Word had gotten around that a few NHL scouts were showing up again, and the locker room buzzed with it. Everyone tried to play it cool, but you could see the extra sharpness in how guys taped their sticks, hear it in how hard we slammed the pucks against the boards during practice drills.“Big n

HAYDEN The locker room still buzzed with post-practice energy, sweaty gear strewn everywhere, sticks clattering against the concrete floor, the faint smell of sweat and disinfectant lingering like an old friend. Jason sat on the bench tying his skates even though practice was over. Logan was perched on top of his locker, tossing a puck into the air and catching it with lazy precision. “Good hustle out there today, Michaels,” Logan called. “You planning on stealing all our ice time just to impress your girlfriend?” I rolled my eyes, peeling off my gloves. “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend. Second of all, maybe you guys should try skating faster. Might help.” Jason let out a low whistle. “Ooooh, defensive. That’s new.” He shot Logan a conspiratorial look. “Guess it’s official. Our boy’s gone.” “Gone?” I repeated flatly, tossing my gloves into my locker. “Yeah. Lost. Whipped. Head over skates.” Jason grinned, leaning back against the wall. “Call it whatever you want.” Logan

HAYDEN The rink was quiet at night. No buzzing crowd, no echo of whistles or shouts from teammates, just the low hum of the refrigeration system and the faint squeak of my blades as I stepped out onto the ice. The fluorescent lights overhead gave everything a pale, almost magical glow. Coleen’s laugh broke the silence as she shuffled cautiously behind me. “I still don’t know why I agreed to this again.” “Because you secretly love embarrassing yourself in front of me,” I called over my shoulder, grinning. She rolled her eyes, wobbling as she clutched the wall. “Please. The only one who’s going to be embarrassed is you, when I fall flat on my face and sue you for damages.” I skated back toward her, stopping just close enough that our blades nearly touched. “Relax. No lawsuits necessary. I’ve got you.” Her gaze flicked up to mine, doubtful but amused. “You sound way too confident for someone who hasn’t seen me on skates in years.” “True,” I admitted, offering my hand. “But I’m also

HAYDENI stared at my phone for a long time before hitting call. The screen reflected my own tense expression back at me, eyes shadowed, jaw clenched. My hands weren’t steady. It wasn’t a game-day kind of adrenaline, sharp and focused. This was heavier, pressing down on my chest, the kind of pressure that didn’t let up even when I tried to breathe it away.The call rang twice before Dad answered.“Hayden,” he said, brisk as always, like we were already mid-conversation. “I’m glad you called. We need to go over the scouts’ interest from last week...”“Dad,” I cut in quickly, before I lost my nerve. My voice came out rough. “Before you start, I need to say something.”There was a pause before he said, “Alright. Go ahead.”I started pacing my apartment, fingers raking through my hair. My throat was dry, but the words were already climbing their way out. “I’ve thought about it. About the scouts, the draft, everything. And I’ve made my decision.”“And?” His tone sharpened, already expecta