“For getting me this far.”
She shakes her head. “You did the work.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “But you make the grind feel doable.”
She studies me for a moment, the edge of a smile tugging at her mouth.
“Big day tomorrow,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Sophie’s been talking about the charity event all week. She’s excited you’ll be there.”
“I’m glad,” she says, voice softening. “She deserves a good weekend.”
I want to lean in and kiss her, but I don’t. Not here. Not at the rink.
I hold her gaze for a second longer than I should. “See you in the morning, then.”
When Sophie gets home after school, she’s already humming one of her musical numbers and asking if she can bring a sign to the event.
I tell her sure, and she disappears into the kitchen with tape and poster board.
By the time I’m icing my knee again, she’s already finished it.
The parking lot’s already packed when we pull up the next morning—families in Foxes jerseys, a sponsor tent handing out cocoa, a couple of local news vans parked by the entrance.
Two team-security staff in branded jackets direct foot traffic by the doors, scanning badges for media and staff, and guiding families and youth groups through the check-in line.
Sophie leans forward in the passenger seat, grinning. “They’ve got a hot-chocolate stand!”
“Of course that’s what you noticed,” I tease, pulling into the space markedReserved – Ice Foxes.
Sophie’s clutching the handmade sign she finished last night:Go Dad!
“Think it’s big enough?” she asks, holding it up proudly.
I grin. “Pretty sure they can see it from center ice.”
She beams, and for the first time in a while, she looks weightless.
Inside, the air smells like coffee and fresh ice. A team PR coordinator in a branded jacket waves us over, tablet in hand.
“Captain Tremayne! So glad you made it. We’ll get you checked in. Charlotte from medical’s already in the locker tunnel waiting for you.”
“My daughter Sophie’s on the guest list,” I tell her. “She’ll stay with team staff in the viewing section until we’re done out there, right?”
“Of course,” she says warmly. “Security will be stationed by the tunnel, and one of our staff will stay with her near the viewing section.”
Sophie spots Charlotte tying her skates by the tunnel and waves. Charlotte lifts a hand and smiles in return, making Sophie beam.
A rink attendant scans our badges before opening the tunnel door, and a team security guard nods me through.
Sophie says, “You’ll wave, right?”
“You bet,” I tell her, squeezing her shoulder before heading down the tunnel.
Charlotte’s waiting where the ice meets the mat. The sight makes something in my chest ease instantly.
“Morning,” she says without looking up, but there’s a smile tugging at her mouth.
