Sutton nods. “I love you the same,” she repeats, then kisses me. “Just to make this clear, everything else is still a competition.”
“Is that so?” I pull back to look at her.
Her legs unknot from behind my back, and her hazels twinkle with mischievousness.
“Yeah. Race you to the dock.” Sutton pushes me under and takes off swimming.
Soaked, we lie out on the dock. There’s nowhere for us to be except right here. The sun is slowly drying us out. Her auburn curls will take hours, though.
Sutton put on one of Elliot’s playlists. Her phone is somewhere above our heads, as our feet dangle off the edge of the dock. The music is soft, blending with the sound of birds chirping and water sloshing up against the muddy beach next to us. A few students are out on the water kayaking and paddleboarding, but they never get close enough to spot us.
“Do you remember when we were nine and sitting in your tree house?” Sutton asks me, staring up at the drifting clouds.
“Of course.” There’s nothing I’ve forgotten about her or us. Most warm days were spent in that tree house with her and my sisters, but I know specifically what day she is asking about.
Dad had built an addition that wasn’t covered. Someone at school raved about being able to see the Northern Lights over the weekend. Sutton and I stayed up, dragging pillows and blankets up the ladder into the tree house, sneaking cookies that were supposed to be for Molly’s theater bake sale. There were zero colors in the sky that night, but there were plenty of stars. Constellation after constellation.
“We made a pact that we’d reach our dreams together.”
“And would you look at that, our dreams are coming true.” I turn my head to look at Sutton. She’s staring at me withtenderness and appreciation and something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Yeah. I guess dreams do come true.”
I push a strand of hair behind her ear. Part of the curl gets stuck in the back of her earring, and I have to finagle it loose. It’s not smooth or cute, but Sutton’s smile grows, and a tiny giggle slips out.
There are unspoken words that pass between us. I lean forward and press my lips gently against hers.
“You’re my greatest dream, too.” I’ve never had a dream or life goal that she hasn’t been a part of. College, hockey, and my future family. The years before her are fuzzy, fundamental childhood memories I should probably remember, but I don’t. I was blind before Sutton. She was and still is the clarity, the start of me. “Before hockey, before all of it, it was you. It’s always been me about you, Sutton.”
EPILOGUE
SUTTON
FOUR YEARS LATER
The plastic testin my hand is cold but electric. The potential it holds pulses, my heart thumping in rhythm. My wrist twitches, shaking like I’m in one of Elliot’s cycling classes. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to watch the timer on my phone count down.
Twenty…Nineteen…Eighteen…
The numbers trickle down slowly. I swear, as they decrease, the time between them increases, or maybe that’s my anticipation.
What is Cooper going to think? This was not part of our plan—well, it was always a dream, but not for another three to five years.
What about school? I have one year left of my PhD program, and a full-time contract with Team USA. Our wedding is in two months…
What about my dress?
A year ago, Cooper proposed. Twenty-five, and the summer after he won his first Stanley Cup. We were in our apartment. Icame out of our bedroom in my favorite shirt of his. Ironically, the one I’m in right now. My hair was thrown into a lopsided bun balanced delicately on the crown of my head.
He was in the kitchen pulling out plates for the pizzas we ordered for dinner. His hands had a slight tremor to them.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, trekking through my memory to make sure he took his anxiety medicine this morning.
He clocked his hands. “Sore from my workout. My biceps are destroyed.” Cooper smiled. He’s just as handsome as he was in college, maybe even more. Aging like fine wine, I remember being excited for the days when he goes salt and pepper. “Top one is yours if you want to dig in. Want a Diet Coke?”
“Yes, please.” I slid into the chair at our waterfall counter. I had to stretch to reach the corner of the pizza boxes.
Cooper spun around, setting a fountain Diet Coke in front of me before pushing the boxes into reach. He stood on the opposite side of the counter, staring at me.
