His back is to me, but for reasons I am too afraid to dissect right now, everything from the broadness of his shoulders, to the way his back narrows to his hips, to the way he moves so effortlessly is as familiar to me as breathing. And when he turns in his skates, his eyes meeting mine through the glass door, a grin splits his face and the breathing I mentioned? That stops completely.
Then Ethan comes flying down the ice and hip checks Cam, and I can hear Cam’s laugh through the glass as he pushes off and chases after his son. Riley appears out of nowhere, whizzing after them until all three Lowrys are racing around the rink in a formation that reminds me so much of the way I used to skate with my mom and dad that my chest actually aches. And I’m suddenly deathly afraid that a little piece of the heart that used to beat only for myself and my family now beats for the three of them, and I don’t know how to stop it.
Or whether I even want to try.
“Friend of yours?” my dad asks, his tone givingI am stirring shit right now.
“Not really,” I say casually. “I know him from work. He plays for the team. He’s an offensive lineman.”
My dad rolls his eyes. “Give me some credit, Little Red. Cam Lowry has been a Renegade for, like, thirteen years. I would recognize him anywhere.”
“That makes one of us,” I mumble, thinking how much easier everything would be right now if I had recognized Cam that night at the bar. But then I wonder whether I would erase what happened between us if I could, and I know I wouldn’t, even though my life is a giant pile of chaos and half-lies right now.
“What’s that?” he asks with a grin.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Looks like they’ve got the ice and we won’t get to have our alone time, so we should just go. We can reschedule.”
My dad shakes his head. “No way. We’re here, and we’ve got skates, and look!” He points to the ice. “I think I have a fan who wants to talk to me.”
I glance up and snort out a laugh when I see Ethan pressed up against the glass surrounding the rink, hair damp with sweat and mouth half-open as he stares at my dad like he’s Taylor Swift or something. “No way does he recognize you. He’s ten, and you played a million years ago.”
My dad pats me on the shoulder before pushing through the door. “Never underestimate hockey fans, Little Red,” he says over his shoulder.
“I am a hockey fan,” I mutter, following him through the doors, regretting every life choice that has led me to this moment.
“Oh my god, you’re Jeremy Wright!” Ethan practically trips over his skates in his attempt to get off the ice and in front of my dad as quickly as possible.
“I sure am,” my dad says, smirking at me as if to sayI told youso, before turning his attention back to Ethan. “Those were some sick moves out there.”
“I play hockey,” he says breathlessly. “I had a game, but I wanted to practice more, and my dad got permission for us to stay on the ice longer, and then he and my sister came to skate with me too. What are you doing here? And what areyoudoing here?” he asks, turning to me. “How do you know Jeremy Wright? He’s, like, the best hockey player the Lightning ever had except for maybe his son, Oliver, but he hasn’t been playing long enough yet to know for sure.”
I smile at him because his hero worship is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen even if I can practically feel my dad’s ego grow with every word out of Ethan’s mouth. “He’s my dad. Oliver is my brother, and you better not tell him you think he might be better than my dad one day. He’ll be insufferable.” Ethan laughs when I roll my eyes, but then he looks at me with something resembling awe.
“I can’t believe Jeremy Wright is your dad.”
I shrug, glancing up at my dad with a smirk. “He’s pretty annoying sometimes, but he’s mostly okay.”
“Don’t listen to her,” my dad says with a grin, slinging his arm back around me. “She loves me because I taught her everything she knows about hockey. She led her high school team to state championships two years in a row and then went on to play in college.”
“You did?” Ethan’s eyebrows disappear up into his hair, and then he turns to my dad. “Can you teach me stuff too?”
My dad beams. “Sure, little man. Let me get my skates on and we can run some drills. I’ll have you NHL-ready in no time.”
“Oh my god, seriously?” Ethan whispers, looking a little like he might faint.
I stifle a laugh that dies completely at the sound of a deep, raspy voice that has my stomach swooping.
“Hey, Wildcat.” Cam sidles up to us and comes to a stop behind Ethan, laying a hand on his shoulder. He’s dressed injeans and a navy-blue hoodie, his skates giving him a few extra inches that make his already tall frame even more imposing. Or, it would be imposing if his flushed cheeks and eyes that sparkle when they land on me weren’t suddenly making it hard for me to breathe again.
“Cam Lowry,” he says, holding a hand out to my dad.
My dad shoots me a look at, I’m sure, theWildcatof it all, before shaking Cam’s hand with a smile. “Jeremy Wright. I can’t believe we’ve never met before. You’ve done such great work with Kids Play.”
Kids Play is the foundation my dad started after he retired from the NHL, and it’s one of the most powerful foundations in sports, its mission grounded in the belief that cost should never be a barrier to entry for kids in sports. Except… “I thought you worked with Gabe’s foundation?” I blurt out, unable to put a lid on my need to know things about him. Anything. All the things.
Cam smirks at me like he knows exactly where my brain went. “I work with Kids Play too sometimes. I was a kid in sports, and I have a kid in sports. I know how fundamental sports are at young ages, and I like being a part of making sure every kid who wants to play can.”
“We appreciate your dedication,” my dad says, glancing down at Ethan. “Anyway, like Maddy said, we were going to skate, and I would love to see what this guy can teach me.” He tosses Ethan a wink. “But we don’t want to take your ice time.” He gives me a side-eye that tells me he has already decoded this entire situation, and god, where are my emotional support M&M’s when I need them?
