Crossing The Goal Line. Kim Findlay

good enough? “Amber hated it. Most of the guys on the team were single, and she was positive they were taking me to strip clubs and that we were meeting women every time we were on the road. The married guys were older and had kids, so Amber didn’t really fit in with their wives.

      “She wanted me to quit. She’d tell me that the chances were that I’d never make it to the big show, and if I loved her I’d want her to be happy. She told me I was selfish, putting my dream above her. I argued that I’d thought it was our dream. I was young, and sure I was going to make it, if she’d just stick it out a bit longer. I didn’t want to give it up.”

      His grip tightened on the crutch handles. That had been a bad period. He’d never dreamed that they would spend that much time fighting as newlyweds.

      “We made the playoffs that year in Rimouski. I was playing well. I tried to convince her that it meant I would make it, that we would make it. We had a big fight. It was the night the team was going out to celebrate. I left, slamming the door. When I came back, she was gone. She’d packed up to go back to her parents.

      “Then the police came to tell me she was dead. And that she was pregnant when she died. I don’t even know if she knew that. She hadn’t told me, in any case.”

      Mike still wondered if she’d known, and if she had, if she had deliberately left without telling him. That fear could still hurt.