I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, just watching her—my girl, in my jersey, in my bed, in my life. For a second, we just stay there, wrapped up in each other, the whole day waiting for us on the other side of the door.
Different worlds. Different dreams, but somehow, we’re able to do this together.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Her phone is still going, reminding us that we can’t stay here like this forever. “We should probably get ready,” I say quietly, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Big game today.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, soft and certain. “Yeah. I’ve gotta get to the rink for sound check.”
I lace my fingers with hers, give her a gentle squeeze. “Guess it’sourbig day then.”
Her smile answers mine. “Ours,” she repeats.
We get out of bed hand in hand, ready to step into whatever comes next—side by side, the way it’ll always be now.
The final note rings out across the arena, and for a moment, there's perfect silence.
Then the crowd erupts.
I stand at center ice with the microphone in my hand and let the sound wash over me. Five thousand people on their feet, cheering for me. For my voice. For what I can do.
It never gets old.
Turning on the red carpet, I start to head off the ice, passing both teams on either side. When I pass Scotty, I give him a wink, making him grin.
He taps his stick against the ice: a motion that’s become our signal.
I mouth “good luck” before I head off the ice and through the locker room.
As I move through the arena hallway, I nearly collide with two familiar figures.
“Laura, sweetheart!”
My mom barely gets the words out before she’s pulling me into her arms, giving me a tight hug, and when my dad steps in behind, he wraps his arms around both of us.
For one tiny moment, I feel it.
Complete.
I’ve been spending years trying to get my parents’ approval, and I think I might’ve just got it.
“You were absolutely beautiful up there,” Mom says, her voice breaking enough to know she’s holding back her emotions. When she pulls back, her eyes are glossy, and her smile is trembling with the kind of pride I’ve spent my entire life watching her reserve for Noelle. “I knew you had an amazing voice,” she adds softly, “but I’ve never heard you sound like that.”
“It was so professional,” Dad says, his grin wide and unmistakably real. “you were made for that, honey.” He squeezes my shoulder, grounding me. “We are so proud of you.”
I inhale, my breath slow and shaky when I feel my emotions about to take over.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
They’ve praised me before—when the schedules allowed them to come and see me—but most of that felt forced. How great can you really be when you’re playing donkey number three?
This is different, though. This is the first time I’m not shrinking under their compliments. This is the first time I’m standing here thinking,Yes. This is me, and what I was born to do.
And I’m thinking like that because for the first time, I’m actually proud of myself. I love my parents, but they could’ve acted the same way they did for me in high school, and I’d still feel the same.
I was born for this, and I have Scotty to thank for realizing it.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out, holding back my emotions. “That means—that means everything.”
