The arena erupted. Players cheered and banged their sticks against the ice. A few of them whistled. The sound was deafening and glorious, and Casey's face transformed into pure, radiant joy.
Easton scooped her up in his arms, spinning her once before setting her back on her skates. "You did it!" he exclaimed. "That was perfect!"
Together, they skated back toward the gate, Easton's hand never leaving her shoulder. When they reached me, Casey was glowing.
"I did it!" she exclaimed, launching herself at me despite still being on skates. I caught her, stumbling slightly but holding tight. "Mom, did you see? I was on the ice, and it was okay! It didn't hurt me this time!"
"I saw, baby. You were so brave." I looked over her head at Easton, trying to convey something deeper I wasn't ready to name. "Thank you," I mouthed.
He smiled and winked before skating back to join his teammates.
A plus-sized blonde woman with a sleek ponytail and Shadow Wolves staff jacket approached, introducing herself as Brenna.
"Let me show you to your suite," she said warmly. "We've got hot chocolate and snacks ready with the best view in the house."
She led us up through the arena corridors to a private box suite. The moment we walked in, Casey gasped. The room was arranged for a small celebration, complete with a table overflowing with treats, a hot chocolate bar including all the trimmings, and gigantic windows offering a view of the icy expanse below.
"This is for us?" Casey asked, her eyes wide. She looked from me to Brenna, and the buffet of treats and hot chocolate scattered around us.
"All for you," Brenna confirmed with a wide smile. "Easton's orders."
As Casey settled into one of the plush seats with her hot chocolate and extra marshmallows, the scrimmage began below. The players were clearly keeping it casual, but their skill was still mesmerizing. Every few minutes, one of them would look up at our box and wave at Casey, or execute some flashy move clearly meant to impress her.
Casey pointed out plays to me, using terminology her grandfather had taught her, the earlier fear of being on the ice completely forgotten in her excitement. It seemed like this was some kind of healing in real time.
"He cares about her," Brenna said, settling into the seat beside me. "Easton, I mean. I've been working here for a few years, andI've never seen him go to this much trouble for anyone. I don’t think we’ve ever done anything like this for our younger fans."
"He's been very good to her," I managed, my throat tight with emotion.
"And to you?" Brenna asked gently, though her eyes were knowing. "I don't mean to pry, but the way he looks at you… Well, let's say there's definitely something there."
I glanced at her, surprised by her directness but also recognizing a kindred spirit. Brenna was another woman who seemed to notice things and read between the lines.
She smiled apologetically. "Sorry, occupational hazard. I notice body language, chemistry, and the way people orbit each other. And you two? That's not casual friendship or community service supervisor dynamics."
Was it that obvious? This pull between Easton and me that I'd been desperately trying to ignore? The connection that had never broken, not even after seven years of silence?
Down on the ice, Easton executed a perfect slap shot that sent the puck flying into the net. He immediately looked up at our box, and even from this distance, the satisfaction on his face when he saw us watching was unmistakable. He raised his stick in a small salute. It was a gesture meant just for me.
That familiar flutter returned to my chest, the one that had never quite gone away. Not even after years of silence, of secrets, of building a life without him.
"How long have you two known each other?" Brenna asked, clearly curious.
"We…" I hesitated, unsure how to answer.
How did you explain a one-night stand that had resulted in a child? A six-year secret? A connection that refused to die, no matter how hard you tried to bury it? "We crossed paths years ago. Long story."
"Well, whatever the history, he's clearly invested now," Brenna murmured, watching the game below. "I've seen a lot of players do charity events and community outreach. This isn't that."
She was right, of course. This had stopped being about community service weeks ago. Maybe it had never been about that at all.
"Mom!" Casey tugged on my sleeve, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. "Did you see that pass? That's the one Uncle Easton taught me in the driveway!"
I forced myself to focus on my daughter, on her joy, on this perfect moment. "I saw it, honey. That was amazing."
Casey settled back into her seat, clutching her stuffed wolf and sipping her hot chocolate, eyes glued to the ice.
This was what Easton had given her. It wasn’t just a rescue from the water, but a rescue from the trauma that could have stolen her love of the sport. He'd created a new memory to replace the terrifying one. Given her back her passion.
