Voices carried from the kitchen.
Jax arguing about something. Avery laughing at him. The deep rumble of Theo’s voice somewhere behind them while Chase tried unsuccessfully to referee whatever debate had started over dinner.
Tori’s quiet laugh drifted down the hall a second later.
I dropped my hockey bag near the stairs by everyone else’s and followed the light spilling from the back room.
Mila stood near the window with her sleeves pushed to her elbows, one foot tucked beneath her as she leaned toward the canvas. Late afternoon sunlight poured through the tall windows I’d chosen for that exact reason, catching in the loose strands of her hair while her brush moved slowly across the surface.
Music played softly somewhere behind her. Michigan had already fallen into a rhythm that still felt slightly unreal to me.
Morning team meetings. Classes. High-intensity drills, film review with the guys, weight training, then homework. Late nights in a house that somehow held six of us without ever feeling crowded.
Avery and Jax had already claimed the kitchen as their unofficial territory. Theo and Tori studied at the dining table most nights. Chase drifted between all of us, usually with music playing somewhere and a new girl appearing just often enough that none of us bothered learning her name.
And Mila painted.
The normal life we’d fought for. The kind I’d never expected to have.
She stepped back from the canvas, tilting her head as she studied the colors, and that was when she noticed me.
A smile spread across her face. “There you are.”
I crossed the room and wound my hands around her waist, pulling her back against me. A small smear of blue paint marked her wrist.
“You’ve been working all day.”
She leaned into my chest comfortably. “You’ve been skating all day.”
“Fair.”
Her fingers curled around mine where they rested against her stomach. “Did practice go well?”
“Coach didn’t make us do blue line sprints today,” I answered.
“High praise.”
I pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck.
The simple ease of moments like this still caught me off guard sometimes. A year ago, our lives had revolved around rumors, secrets, and a town that seemed determined to drag us into every fight happening behind closed doors.
Now the loudest sound in the house most nights came from the team arguing about whose turn it was to cook.
“You’re staring,” Mila murmured.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s always dangerous.”
My chin rested briefly on her shoulder as I looked over the painting again. A wide stretch of shoreline filled the canvas, the ocean rolling beneath a sky streaked with soft light.
Blackwood’s coast. But it felt different in her hands. Calmer. Wider. Less suffocating.
I studied the canvas quietly. “That’s incredible.”
She huffed quietly. “You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true.”