More than my past.
More than a woman who needed saving.
Chapter 30
Josh
Ispent more time in the store than I intended to, obsessing and considering. Checking reviews on my phone. I didn’t want anything too flashy, but it still had to be solid. Something that would last and help her be a kid again. Which may have been too much to ask from a piece of composite wood.
But this time, I wasn’t buying equipment for the farm or a tool I’d use until it fell apart in my hands. I was considering hockey sticks and trying to remember the last time I’d worried so much about getting something right.
Thirteen was a big birthday. Ellie was no longer a kid, but she wasn’t yet an adult. That age was scary and overwhelming but exhilarating at the same time. She was also old enough to smell bullshit from a mile away. And the last thing this kid needed was an adult making promises they couldn’t keep.
I hefted the stick, assessing the weight. It was solid. Thekind that could be used a lot and thrown around. I’d cut it to fit her height and grab a roll of tape on the way out.
There was no pretending I wasn’t nervous about this.
I wanted to show up for her. To be a part of things. In whatever way they’d let me. I wasn’t trying to win points with Celine, and I’d never use her kids to get closer to her. I just wanted to be another supportive adult for Ellie.
Because somewhere between the pumpkin race and the horse and the way Ellie hovered, always alert, I’d started to see it. How observant she was. How careful. The way she held herself like she was bracing for impact. Like if she stayed sharp enough, she could keep the ground from shifting again.
I knew the feeling.
The house looked warm, the balloons tied haphazardly to the porch railing telling me Julian was involved with decorating.
“Josh,” Maggie called, darting out the front door. “Come in. We have cake. Does Daisy eat cake? Can I bring her a piece tomorrow?”
Celine and Julian followed, and finally Ellie, who was wearing her usual black hoodie but also a sparkly birthday crown.
“Happy birthday,” I said, handing her the stick without ceremony.
She looked at it for a minute, her lips tugged down, before taking it out of my hand.
She examined it closely, felt the weight of it, but she remained silent.
“If you don’t want it, I can take it back,” I said. “You shoot righty, correct?”
She nodded, now studying the blade, her fingers lingering like she didn’t trust it not to disappear.
Celine was quiet, her focus fixed firmly on Ellie’s face, probably to gauge her reaction.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Ellie said.
“I know.” I lifted one shoulder. “But I figured you could use it. I heard you used to play.”
She nodded.
“I was a hockey player when I was your age. I wasn’t very good. But I loved it. I still play a lot with my friends.”
“Friends?” She arched a disbelieving brow.
“Logan and Gabe,” I admitted. “We play street hockey in the summer when the rink is closed.”
“Does Logan bring animals to hockey?” Maggie asked.
I chuckled, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Sometimes.”
Hockey had been great for me as a kid. It had given me an outlet for my emotions and frustration, as well as some lifelong friends. But it was also an activity I shared with my dad. My sisters never had any interest, and Jasper preferred running wild in the woods. But Dad taught me and coached me and always cheered at my games. We’d even driven down to Boston a couple of times to watch the Bolts play. I always figured that one day, I’d have kids, and I’d teach them to skate and play with them out on Carver Pond the way he did.
