Another person chimes in. “And I’m Dean, the younger and better-looking brother. Also your biggest fan. Even if I’mpretty sure your posters on my sister’s wall back in the day tell a different story.”
That earns an audible groan from Ivy, but I can’t help laughing as I reach out and clasp his hand. Dean’s grip is casual and his voice carries that cheeky lilt of someone who’s always two seconds from delivering a punchline. It’s disarming in the best way.
“Let’s not forget me,” a woman pipes up, bright and sure. “I’m Kayla Drummond. A fellow Ice Cross racer and Max’s girlfriend. It’s so lovely to finally meet the man Ivy couldn’t stop talking about the past few months.”
“Kayla—” Ivy’s warning is sharp.
Her friend huffs. “It’s not a big secret how miserable you were when you two were apart.”
Ivy mutters something under her breath, and it pushes me to jump in.
“Well, it’s good to meet you all. Really good. I’ve heard enough about you to feel like I already know you.”
Ivy’s fingers brush my arm, offering help quietly. I find her elbow and hold on as she guides me toward a seat between her and Uncle Jake. More introductions are made around the table. We’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, our little bubble vibrating with overlapping conversations and bursts of laughter. It’s chaos, but the good kind. The kind that makes you forget you were ever lonely.
I automatically reach for Ivy under the table. Her skin is warm and soft against my fingertips, the overwhelming noises fading into the background as I curl my fingers around hers. Lifting our linked hands to my lips, I brush a kiss against her knuckles. The gesture is simple, but it feels monumental. It's proof thatshe’s beside me, not a voice in my memory or a phantom in my dreams.
Somewhere between the orders and the bread basket getting passed around, the conversation shifts to hockey. Not surprising since most of my dinner companions are diehard fans.
“It’s hard to put into words how much having you here with us means, Teddy. You’ve been part of our game nights for years,” Tom comments. “The Campbells don’t miss watching the Woodpeckers play if we can help it.”
“The boys, my husband included, have screamed at the TV more times than I can count. Not to forget Ivy and her creative swearing,” Nella adds.
“I almost broke a remote after the messy OT game against Montreal three seasons ago,” Dean admits.
Max’s voice follows. “Man, I’ve got a lot of respect for the way you played and for how you handled everything with the press conference.”
I’m caught off guard; it’s not a pity in their words—it’s reverence. “Thank you.”
“Are you still planning to stay involved with the sport in some way? Coaching maybe?” Max asks.
“Sure, I’ve thought about it, but have no solid plans yet. I’d love to be around the game somehow, if it feels right after the surgery.” Ivy’s hand slips into mine, knowing I need the support. “I don’t miss the pressure of being a professional athlete, but I do miss the ice,” I admit.
Jake cuts in for the first time in a while. “You know what you should do? Start a foundation that helps disabled kids andadults learn to play hockey through adaptive training. There’s not enough funding for such programs, but many could benefit from those opportunities.”
Ivy lets out a soft breath beside me. “You’d be incredible at mentoring, Teddy. Imagine how many people you could help.”
The words sink in deep. Not just because they’re flattering, but because they feel like a possibility to do something that actually matters.
“I’d like that. I really would. We can figure out the details after my surgery, but it sounds possible and something I can see myself doing.”
Jake clinks his glass against mine. “Let’s make it happen.”
Dinner eventually winds down with shared desserts. Ivy feeds me a bite of molten chocolate cake that nearly ruins me. Across the table, I hear someone snap a picture.
“This was a good idea,” I murmur, head tilted toward Ivy.
“Yeah? You’re not overwhelmed?” she asks.
“Nope. It actually feels good to be here.”
“I’m glad we could be what you need.”
She doesn’t realize how much it means to me to be welcomed into her family so easily. I’d been nervous, bracing for distance or judgment, but I should’ve known better. The people who raised Ivy into the fierce, beautiful soul she is couldn’t be anything but good.
46
IVY
