“Didn’t I see you dump it in the laundry room?” I frown, squeezing my eyes shut as if that will sharpen the memory. But my brain has been engulfed in fog lately, so I could be mistaken.
Maisie keeps her eyes locked on the road, hands gripping the wheel in a precise ten and two position. “Nope.”
Always an adventure. I drop my head, shutting my eyes. Maybe I can get a little extra nap in while Maisie runs into the arena.
I’m in that in-between space right before you fall asleep. But a jolt jerks me out of it, and I blink awake to an unfamiliar place. The car rumbles down a narrow road lined with old pine trees and little snowbanks that refuse to melt. I recognize the community center immediately. Faded paint on an old wooden sign. Broken parking slabs. But what catches my eye isn’t the ugly concrete building.
The glow catches my eye. Strings of white lights are hung among the tree branches, looped around the rink boards, and wrapped in haphazard bows over tents and donation bins. There’s a crowd already forming. Families, couples, kids dragging hockey sticks behind them and skating in circles. A booth with hand-painted signage that reads: Skate for Something.
“What is this?” I whisper.
Maisie pulls into a gravel spot and kills the engine. “This,” she says, “is something worth showing up for.”
And then she’s out of the car.
The cold hits sharp and crisp. It slices through the sleep-fog slowing down my mind and fills my lungs with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
I huddle deeper into my coat, trailing after Maisie. She’s walking fast, like she’s afraid I’ll bail if she gives me the chance. And she wouldn’t be wrong. I’m two steps from bolting when the music kicks in.
It’s upbeat and cheerful. More dance pop vibes than you’d expect at the well-loved center. I find myself smiling and nodding my head to the beat.
And then I see them.
JJ. Dev. Cole. Krista. Jenna. Beth. My sister. And Beau. Both of our teams together. They’re lined up on the ice. But instead of skating, they’re dancing.
They’re moving in choreographed unison. For the most part. All in. Waving their arms and swaying their hips. JJ is leading the charge, doing something that might be the sprinkler or maybe interpretive jazz hands. Until Celeste shoves him without breaking step. Dev is a beat behind with a frown on his face. He’s much less enthusiastic than the rest of them, but Cece more than makes up for his halfhearted effort. The girls are clearly more coordinated, but the chaos is universal.
And Beau… Beau is dead center. In the last place I’d ever expect him to be.
He’s got a black Lightning hat on backwards to match the rest of his team. His cheeks are pink from the cold, and he’s wearing a hoodie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him dressed this casually. There’s a chunk of yellow streamer stuck to his shoulder and a focus to his movements that’s a little stilted but still heartbreakingly sincere.
I freeze. Because, for a moment, everything freezes. The noise in my head, the burn in my chest, the ache of being let down. It all goes quiet. Like my brain finally hit pause to enjoy the moment.
The golden boy who’s supposed to be polished and perfect is making an utter fool of himself in front of a crowd. And his eyes are locked on me.
A few people are filming. I catch sight of my own face on a giant projected screen behind the booth, and I reach up to brush away the tears I hadn’t noticed until they cooled on my cheeks.
It’s a live stream broadcasting from my account. I turn to Maisie, wondering who hacked my account to pull this thing off and how they kept it a secret from me.
Maisie bumps my shoulder. “Keep watching.”
I take her advice because it’s the only option. I couldn’t move even if I tried.
Because Beau just skated to center ice. He picks up a microphone, and my heart does something it hasn’t dared to do in days. It stirs.
Beau taps the mic twice, wincing at the shrill screech. He lowers it with a sheepish half-smile. It’s somewhere between sorry and please don’t run.
I don’t move. Not because I can’t, but because every part of me is listening.
He clears his throat. “Hello. Um, this is not my usual thing, obviously. I’m more of a skater and less of a speechmaker. And public declarations are not really my thing. Feel free to send me to the penalty box if I flub this.”
A ripple of laughter breaks across the crowd.
Beau glances down, then up again, eyes skimming until they land on mine. They stay there. Locked on me. “Hi, everyone,” he says. “Sorry for delaying the event, but I just need to clear the air before we get on with the game.”
“Not sure where to start, so here goes. I made a deal last year. You don’t really need to know the details, but I said I’d give up on the draft. The career I actually wanted. I agreed, because I thought that was the only way I could be there for someone I care about.” His eyes flick to Cece for a moment, giving him away. He isn’t willing to spill her secrets to the rest of the world, but the fact that he’s opening up this much at all is a miracle.
“But that was kind of an excuse too. I didn’t tell anyone the actual reason. The deeper one. Not the team. Not my sister. Not Luna.” His voice catches slightly. “Especially not Luna.”
