Except Maya and I aren't normal. We're a secret. Every time we're around Emma, I have to watch what I say, how I look at Maya, and where my hands go. It's exhausting pretending there's nothing between us when there's everything.
I watch Maya laugh at something Chase says, watch her help Emma with the mugs, watch her exist in this space like she's always belonged here, and the ache in my chest grows stronger.
I'm tired of hiding. Tired of pretending she's just Emma's friend staying with us, tired of the stolen moments and careful distance in front of everyone else.
Later, after Emma and Chase have gone to bed, after the house is quiet and dark, Maya comes to the basement. She doesn't knock, just walks in and climbs into my bed as if she belongs here, and maybe that's because she does.
"That was nice tonight," she says, curling against my chest. "The skating."
"You were terrible at it."
"I was not that terrible."
"You fell four times."
"You were supposed to be teaching me, not letting me fall."
"I caught you every time."
"True." She's quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "Tell me more about the pendant. About your dad."
So I do. I tell her about the man I barely remember: big laugh, rough hands, loved hockey and his family more than anything. Tell her about the day he died, how Mom held it together for Emma and me, even though we could hear her crying at night. Tell her about getting the pendant on my twenty-first birthday, how Mom said it was time, how I'd been terrified of the responsibility.
"She said he'd want me to have it, want me to pass it on someday." I play with Maya's curls, wrapping them around my fingers. "It's the most important thing I own."
"That's a lot of pressure. Choosing who gets it."
"Not really." I glance toward the door, making sure it's closed, making sure we're alone. Then I press a kiss to her forehead, soft and lingering. "I've known who it belongs to for a while now."
She doesn't ask who, doesn't push, but I feel her breath catch.
Her hand finds the pendant around my neck and holds it, her thumb brushing over the worn silver.
I fall asleep thinking about how I'm going to give it to her. I can’t just hand it over; I need to do it right. Make it mean something, show her that she's not just someone I'm with, but the only person who matters.
The one Dad would've wanted me to give this to.
The one I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, if she'll have me.
Soon. I'll do it soon.
22
MAYA
Emma's twenty-week scan ran late.
Chase had to leave early to get Ethan from daycare, which means I'm here at the arena waiting to drive Jackson home after practice. I'm sitting in the family section, which is empty except for me, watching through the glass as the team runs drills.
And watching Jackson work is doing things to me.
He's in full captain mode, commanding and authoritative, calling plays and directing traffic, correcting younger players with that voice that makes everyone listen. Even Coach defers to him on certain calls.
It's hot. Watching him take charge, watching everyone follow his lead, it's doing something to me that has nothing to do with healing or therapy or reclaiming my body.
This is pure want.
He moves across the ice with an intoxicating confidence, his body powerful and controlled, and I can't stop watching the way his muscles flex beneath his uniform, the way he commands respect with just his presence. Every bark of anorder, every sharp gesture, every moment of leadership sends heat pooling low in my belly.
