She squints, curious. “Okay…”
“It’s about Charlotte,” I start. “You know how much she means to me, right?”
Sophie’s expression softens instantly. “Yeah. I like her. She makes you laugh.”
That gets me. I smile. “She does. And I care about her. A lot. We’ve been talking about what’s next.”
“What’s next?” she echoes.
I take a breath. “We’ve been talking about her moving in. Not right away. After playoffs, once things calm down. But I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
She blinks a few times, processing. “Like… move in here? For real?”
“Yeah. For real.”
“Wow.” She sets her fork down, thinking. “That’s big.”
“It is.” I keep my voice easy. “What do you think?”
She looks down for a second, tracing a syrup circle with her fork. “I mean… I like Charlotte. She’s nice, and she makes you laugh. And she helps me a lot, so…” She shrugs, glancing up. “It’s just… different.”
I nod slowly. “That’s fair.”
“She’s not trying to, like, replace Mom or anything, right?”
“No,” I say immediately, leaning forward. “Never. You’ll always have both of us. Charlotte’s just… part of our team now.”
Sophie studies me for another beat, then her mouth curves into a small smile. “Okay. I think it’ll be good. Just… different, like I said.”
“Different can be good.”
She grins. “As long as we still have pancake Saturdays.”
I laugh, tension finally easing from my shoulders. “Deal. Pancakes are non-negotiable.”
She goes back to eating, humming under her breath. After a minute she adds, almost shy, “I think Charlotte will make the house feel warmer.”
The words hit harder than she probably realizes. I reach across the table and squeeze her hand once. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think so too.”
Practice runs long: video review, special teams, another round of interviews.
Everyone’s amped, focused, the kind of edge you only get when the Final is close enough to taste. But my head’s still half somewhere else, back at breakfast, the way Sophie processed everything with more grace than most adults would.
She’s twelve, but sometimes she feels thirty. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to be her dad.
When practice finally breaks, I linger a minute in the empty locker room. The echo of skate blades and laughter fades down the hall, and I just sit there, flexing my leg.
Not too long ago, I couldn’t stand on it. Now I’m cleared, gearing up for the Final, and somehow we’re having twins.
The thought makes me laugh under my breath. Two kids. At once.
I can still hear Charlotte’s laugh in the exam room when the doctor said it, that mix of disbelief and joy.
I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel that kind of happiness again.
When I finally leave the rink, the parking lot’s quiet. I sit in the truck for a minute, phone in my hand, debating. Mom’s probably home from work, Dad too.
I hit dial before I can overthink it.
