“Guess the loser is skating suicides again,” I mumble to Oakley as we try to stay hidden.
“This a regular thing?”
I shrug. “Sometimes Thorn lets her help with training plans.”
As they all near our end of the ice, I almost feel bad for the ones coming in last. No surprise, Aubrey isn’t one of them. Granted, the fact that my lineman has his arms looped under hers and is propelling her forward might have something to do with it. When he spins her giggling form into the boards, she catches sight of us.
Her squeal is loud enough to cause the ones near the bench to flinch.
“Did you see how fast I was going? Uncle Rookie made me go even faster than normal, but I stopped all by myself a bunch of times!”
“I did see, speed monster.” My heart nearly dropped from my chest until I realized who had hold of her, if I’m being honest. “Better and better every time.”
She slings herself through the gate and into Oakley Kate’s arms, nearly taking out the crutches in the process. The force of Aubrey’s tiny body nearly knocks them both over, and I barely stop myself from reaching forward to steady them. My sister’s little arms wrap tightly around her favorite person’s neck, and not for the first time, I quietly pray this isn’t a terrible idea.
“You’re really back,” she whispers against Oakley Kate’s chest, and when Kates looks up at me, her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.
Shit. We’re all screwed. I can see it now. There will be no separating these two, and the more Oakley Kate is around, the harder it will be to let her go when she inevitably leaves again.
“I can see you a bunch, right?”
Kate’s eyes stay locked on mine until I give a subtle nod. Her throat works to swallow past a knot, and I swear I can see the war she’s fighting in her eyes. She wants to keep her heart safe, but this kid might make that impossible. The guardian in me is grateful she didn’t blurt out an automatic yes, but the part of mestill hopelessly in love with her wonders if she’s ready to dive headfirst into this storm.
“You can see me however much your brother lets you, okay, sweetie?”
Aubrey beams up at Oakley as the two work off her gloves before dropping onto the bench. Their heads are already bent together, voices low like time hasn’t stolen years between them.
I move down to Thorn, who is leaning against the boards with a whistle between his lips.
“Get off my ice, Harrison,” he grumbles without looking up.
Naturally, I ignore him and mirror his stance. My reflection ghosts against the glass in front of us, and I barely recognize the guy staring back at me. Deep, dark lines around the eyes, shoulders carrying the weight of being both brother and parent... How am I still standing?
“She was good, then?” I ask softly, not wanting Aubs to overhear.
“Always is, Silas. She even helped Hannah clean out that back room and turn it into a little movie theater.”
“No nightmares, then?”
“None. No panic attacks, either.” He blows the whistle three times before finally looking at me. “She’s adjusting to the change, man. Now it’s your turn.”
I glance over my shoulder when Oakley laughs at something Aubrey says, the sounds from both girls sounding happy—alive—for the first time in a long time.
If only it were that simple.
Because it isn’t. Nothing about change ever is.
Thorn makes it sound like flipping a switch—like I can just decide to loosen my grip on control and everything will magically fall into place—but he doesn’t live in my head at night when the silence gets too loud. He doesn’t wake up every few hours to check if the front door is locked or if the alarm is set. Hedoesn’t have a nine-year-old who still crawls into his bed almost every night because of nightmares.
And he sure as hell doesn’t have Oakley Kate Slater standing twenty feet away, laughing like she hasn’t haunted my dreams for the last five years.
She looks so at ease with Aubrey, almost like she never left. For one dangerous, fleeting second, I let myself imagine it—what it would look like if this were permanent. If I could walk off this ice, wrap my arms around both of them, and finally breathe without feeling like the world’s waiting to take something else from me.
But then reality hits—like a slapshot to the gut.
Oakley doesn’t want the life I wanted. The one I still want. She made that clear when she packed her things and left that morning without looking back.
And yeah, I told myself I understood—that I didn’t blame her; that losing what we lost would’ve broken anyone—but sometimes understanding doesn’t quiet the ache.
