"I havesomemoves," Avery confirms proudly. "And Quinn promised she'd meet us out there with hot chocolate. So… Sleepover but on ice."
Morgan turns to me with her hands clasped over the hat trick puck she'll absolutely want to cuddle to sleep every night from now on.
"Mom."
"I—" I look at Delaney. "Are you sure? Is it safe?"
"I'll have her in a helmet, double-laced skates, and three of the best defensemen in the league standing within arm's reach the entire time." Delaney pats my arm. "She's safer out there than crossing Main Street when Paige is driving that ridiculous Beetle."
"Hey! I heard that!" Paige cries out.
"Momplease."
I look down at my daughter. The girl who has cried twice in the last hour, who has been signed at, gifted to, andworshippedat by her heroes. Whose entire life has been bakeries and homework and messy apartments above businesses.
And here she is, being invited onto the Snow Leopards ice.
"Go," I tell her. "Be brave. Don't break anything."
She launches at me, hugs me so hard my ribs ache, and then she's out the door in a flash of glittery sneakers and pure joy, sweeping out of the locker room with Delaney, Paige, and Avery on either side.
"COME ON, BOYS!" Cade yells. "Anyone who can stand is on ice duty!"
Colt steps to the side, and pretty soon, there's astampedebetween us.
I'm not joking. Half-dressed hockey players surge past me in a wave of cologne and sweat and laughter, Cade still shirtless, Samuel still in compression shorts and a hoodie now thrown over his head, Gabe lumbering after them in actual jeans because apparently he's the only one with the dignity to put proper pants on.
Theo flicks another candy snake at Silas as they pass.
"Sorry, ma'am, coming through, ma'am!" Silas calls.
And then, all at once, the room is empty.
Empty except for me.
And… Colt.
"Well." Colt's voice is low and I realize he's taken a step back, his warm hands now shoved in the pockets of his jacket. "She looks happy."
"Yeah," I agree, breathless. "She does."
"You okay?"
"I should be… My child just had the greatest night of her life."
"And her mother?"
I meet his eyes. "Her mother is… processing."
He takes a slow step, stopping directly in front of me. He smiles down at me and holds out his hand. God, he's tall this close. I have to tilt my chin up to meet that smile.
"Come here."
I take his hand without thinking.
He laces our fingers together and leads me deeper into the locker room, eventually stopping at a cubby on the far wall whereCOLT LANEgleams in gold across the top of the nameplate.
A jersey hangs inside, his number stitched between the shoulders, untouched and waiting. Skates dangle from a hook, and there are pads stacked on the bench alongside gloves, a helmet, and a stick leaning in the corner.