January hits with the kind of cold that makes your lungs ache.
We're in the thick of midseason now: games every other night, travel wearing everyone down, playoff positioning getting tighter. The Wolves are third in the division, but Boston's breathing down our necks, and we can't afford to slip.
Coach is riding us hard, but coming home to Maya makes all of it bearable.
The progress is real now. The nightmares that used to wake her screaming now only happen once, maybe twice a week. Dr. Mills is working miracles, and Maya's doing the work, showing up every week, processing the trauma, learning to live with what happened without letting it define her.
Tonight after practice, I come home to find her in the kitchen with Emma, both of them laughing about something while Ethan bangs on a pot with a wooden spoon.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
"Chase tried to assemble the crib for the new baby," Emma says, wiping tears from her eyes. "He put it together backwards."
"It was confusing!" Chase yells from somewhere upstairs.
Maya's laughing so hard she's bent over the counter, real laughter, the kind that lights up her whole face.
Emma shakes her head, still grinning. “He gets one day off practice to help me. And this is what I get."
"Hey!" Chase calls down again. "I’m being supportive!"
"You good, Ice Capades?" Maya asks when she catches me staring.
"Yeah. Just tired."
Emma checks the time. "I need to get Ethan ready for bed. Maya, can you help?"
"Sure."
They disappear upstairs, leaving me with Chase, who comes down looking defeated.
"It's not my fault the instructions were in Swedish," he says.
"The instructions were in English. Just like the last one you built."
"This one had Swedish diagrams, though."
I grab a beer from the fridge. "You want help?"
"Please."
We spend an hour fixing the crib, and by the time we're done, Ethan’s in bed, and Maya's curled up on the couch with Max, reading something on her phone.
An idea hits me.
"Maya," I say, keeping my voice casual. "Want to learn to skate?"
She looks up. "What?"
"Ice skating. I could teach you."
"Now?"
"Why not? The backyard rink's ready, it's a clear night."
Emma appears in the doorway. "Oh, you should! Jackson's an excellent teacher."
"I don't know—" Maya starts.
