“That counts.”
She laughs softly and pulls me into a quick hug before turning back to the oven.
“How’s college?”
“Good.”
“How are your roommates?”
“Making sports science bearable.”
“That’s encouraging.”
I lean against the counter and watch her move around the kitchen the way she always has - familiar motions that make the room feel cozier.
Dad used to sit at the table right there, reviewing game footage on his laptop while dinner cooked.
The memory hits so clearly I almost expect him to be there.
Instead, there’s just the quiet hum of the oven.
Mum glances at me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Leonora.”
I sigh.
She knows me too well.
“Just… busy.”
She plates the food and slides a generous portion of chicken and stuffing with roast potatoes in front of me.
“Eat.”
I don’t argue.
The first bite makes me groan.
“Oh my god.”
She smiles slightly. “You don’t get food like this in the college canteen?”
“I wish.”
We eat for a few minutes in comfortable silence before she speaks again.
“So,” she says casually, “are you missing hockey?”
I freeze mid-bite.
She continues before I can answer.
“Now that you’re out of junior leagues.”
I swallow slowly. “Yeah, of course.”
