Just seeing me.
“You did it,” he says finally. “Your way.”
Something in my chest unlocks. I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear that from him—not approval exactly, but recognition. That I found my own path and it’s just as valid as his.
“Guess I finally figured out the geometry,”I say.
Liam nods once, satisfied, and taps the glass again before turning back toward the ice.
That’s it. That’s all it takes. No speech. No grand moment. Just my brother seeing me for who I actually am instead of who I was supposed to be.
It’s enough.
The drill resets. I track the data without really thinking about it anymore, fingers moving on instinct now. The system hums, responsive and tight.
Wren shifts closer, her shoulder brushing my arm. She’s been quiet this whole time, just watching—the data, the ice, me. Letting me process.
“Do you miss it?” she asks finally. “Being out there?”
I consider that. Really consider it. “Sometimes,” I admit. “Mostly in the morning, when my body expects the routine. The weight room. The ice time. The structure.” I pause. “But missing something and needing it are different things.”
“And you don’t need it anymore.”
“I need this.” I gesture at the laptop, the sensors, the data streaming across the screen. “I need to build things that last longer than a shift on the ice. I need to solve problems that matter beyond the next game.” I look at her. “I need you.”
A wide smile spreads over her face, that dimple flashing—the one that still makes my heart flutter.
She’s quiet for a beat, then says, almost carefully, “I got the notification from the patent office.”
That gets my full attention. I lower the laptop lid, turn to her completely.
“It came through. Official filing confirmation.”
I grin. “When?”
“Last week.” She holds my gaze. “You put my name on it,” she continues, voice steady but soft. “And Theo’s. Evenwhen we weren’t speaking. Even when you didn’t know if?—”
I reach for her hand, lace our fingers together. “The calibration was yours. The algorithm refinements were Theo’s.” I pause. “This doesn’t exist without you. Either of you. I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise just because my last name opens doors.”
She blinks rapidly, looking back out at the ice. When she speaks again, her voice carries weight. “That’s...that means a lot. That you did that even when you thought we were done.”
I pull her closer, press a kiss to her temple. She leans into me. “When you talk about the system, about the work, the color around you changes.”
I arch a brow. “Yeah?”
“It used to be steel blue threaded with silver,” she says quietly. “Controlled but tense, like you were always braced for impact. Like you were holding something back.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s just blue. Deep and steady and calm. No edges, no static.” She meets my eyes. “You found your frequency, Starboy.”
My throat tightens. I cup her face with my free hand, brush my thumb across her cheek. “Guess I finally did.”
On the ice, the drill shifts. Liam calls something sharp and the entire line adjusts in unison. The data updates, tracking the change, and I glance down to check the load distribution.
“You’re good at this,” Wren observes. “Reading the patterns. Seeing what’s coming before it happens.”
“It’s what I’ve always done,” I say. “I just stopped pretending it was instinct instead of analysis.” I smile. “Hockey was always math. I just needed permission to call it that.”
