Was that real, or was I just caught up in the moment?
The bakery is closedon Tuesdays, which means Nina gets to sleep in, and then she’ll take the kids to school. Today is my early morning for extra practice, so I head to the Ice Palace while Cobbiton sleeps under a pre-dawn faded gray blanket.
The arena is empty when I arrive, which is a relief. I don’t need hot chocolate or conversation or comfort. I need the cold familiarity of ice under my blades and the sharp focus that comes from moving fast enough to outrun my thoughts.
I skate hard for twenty minutes, pushing my body until my knee aches and my lungs burn. I shoot pucks at an empty net until my hands are numb and my problems feel manageable again.
That’s when I notice Coach Badaszek sitting in the stands, watching me with the kind of patient attention that suggests he’s been here for a while.
“Did that puck do something to offend you?” he asks when I skate over.
Not the kind of humor or honesty I was expecting at this early hour, but I go with it. “You could say that.”
“Anything on your mind?”
I find myself nodding, even though talking about personal problems with my coach feels like crossing a line. “Family stuff.”
“Mind if I join you out there?” Without waiting for me to answer, he laces up a pair of skates with the ease of someone who’s been doing it for decades, and soon we’re skating slow laps around the rink.
After a few minutes, the words start flowing. I tell him about my concerns with the injuries and my career.
“Those are the obvious wounds,” Coach says when I finish. “But there are some deeper ones, aren’t there?”
Out comes a confession about my ex, Kai and Mya, the media attention, my fears about Nina’s motivations, and myfather’s warnings. Then I think about my mother, being twelve and watching my dad bury himself in hockey while Desi and I fended for ourselves.
Keeping my pace, Badaszek says, “I knew you lost your mother when you were young. The same thing happened to my girls. Kathleen was gone too soon. Everyone handles grief differently. I like to think I rose to the occasion, gave my triplets the father they deserved. While I respect Lane Senior as an accomplished hockey player and coach, I don’t think he doubled down on being the family man you and your sister needed.”
I slow to a glide. “Should I be creeped out that you know so much about my personal life?”
Coach laughs. “No, you should know that people are looking out for you. Who don’t just care about your career, but about you.”
His words attempt to pierce the armor I’ve built around myself. Then again, Badaszek is a Knight, well, the coach, and he knows a thing or two about piercing the exterior, getting guys to show up and give extra, to become the men and hockey players they’re meant to be.
Contemplative silence follows us for a few laps before he speaks again. “My late wife Kathleen and your mother were friends back in the day, when your old man was quite the catch. At least, that’s what the puck bunnies said. From what I understand, Kathleen helped Judy through some rough times.”
My stomach knots. Badaszek must know about Dad’s affairs, about whatever happened that made Mom so sad in those last years.
“I didn’t recognize it at first, but the connection between Viggo Bruun, Suzie Bass, and our very own Busy Bee baker …”
“She promised her father never to date a hockey player,” I blurt out as sudden insecurities overwhelm me.
“Neverdate, huh? I pay attention to the game, my players, and the people connected to them. We’re a family organization, and she’s part of it. A wonderful young woman, and although your marriage was likely the most unconventional one yet, you’re a perfect match.” Badaszek’s icy eyes twinkle.
That’s where he leaves it as we spend another half hour on the ice, shooting pucks. Coach isn’t just a good coach—he’s a good man, and talking to him gives me perspective I didn’t know I needed. But something still gnaws at me.
It’s only when I leave the arena that I realize what. I told Nina that I’m not my father. She promised she’s not her mother. And she gave her word never todatea hockey player. Marriage is an entirely different ball game … or I should say puck game.
I’ve made a decision. I want a future with her more than anything. She’s my everything.
If Mya can sneak into the bakery, so can I.
I let myself in through the back door with the key Nina keeps hidden, moving quietly through the familiar space. The final notice letter is exactly where I remember it, sitting on Nina’s desk like a ticking time bomb.
I read it carefully, noting the amounts, the deadlines, and the consequences. Then I pull out my phone and make a call to my financial advisor, followed by Brad. When I’m done, I sit in Nina’s office chair and think about family. About the town that’s embraced our love story. About two kids who need stability more than they need scared adults protecting their tender hearts.
About a woman who makes room in her life for children, who doesn’t hesitate to open her home to us, who agreed to marry a veritable stranger and make it real because that’s what the situation demands. What she wants.
The truth is, I love Nina. Not because she’s convenient orsafe or uncomplicated, but because she’s brave and generous and real in ways that make me want to be better.
