Down on the ice, a certain hockey player looks up.
Even from here, I see it—the way his face softens when he spots us. There’s pure delight in his grin as he watches Theo’s excitement. He lifts a hand in a quick wave, like this was exactly what he was hoping to see.
Theo waves back with the commitment of an emergency flare, leaning so far over the railing I grab the back of his jacket before he launches himself onto the ice in solidarity. Standing here and bearing witness to this, something I’ve not thought about before lands hard, right in my chest.
Even though his dad isn’t here, my son is glowing. That man out there on the ice, who brings Theo so much happiness and friendship, he’s the one who put that glow there. But I’ve not taken into consideration that I have no idea what happens to Theo when Sawyer’s outreach hours end and his real life—the one full of travel and cameras and women who aren’t single moms running plant shops—pulls him back.
My mother’s words are suddenly on repeat in my mind.You’re thinking about someone else’s needs too, not just Theo’s.
That could be a problem. Theo is the one person my focus should stay on, always, no matter what. This little boy is filledwith nothing but light and love, yet is continuously disappointed by the one man in his life who should be his role model.
Theo shouts Sawyer’s name again, and Sawyer finds him in the crowd immediately—like my son is a frequency he’s already tuned to.
That’s the thing I’ve been trying not to see.
I have fallen for that man on the ice. Quietly, inconveniently, completely. My son has too—except Theo doesn’t know yet that sometimes people don’t stay. He hasn’t learned that lesson.
I have. I learned it thanks to a jumbotron, with twelve million witnesses.
I pull Theo back from the railing one more time, straighten his jacket, and make myself smile when he looks up at me.
One of us has to know better. That’s always been my job.
CHAPTER 26
SAWYER
The green room still hums like the game hasn’t fully let go of us yet. Sweat. Gatorade. That sharp, electric buzz that only comes after a win that actually matters.
Not just any win. Playoffs. We are in the playoffs.
Around me, the guys are laughing too loud, replaying goals that already happened like they can’t quite believe them. Someone popped champagne as soon as we’d come off the ice, because it really would be rude not to. I should be celebrating with them. I am, technically. I clap backs. I grin. I let Campbell tackle me into a one-armed hug. But even in the middle of it—noise, victory, the kind of adrenaline that makes you feel ten feet tall, I’m busy scanning the room.
Not for cameras. Not for management.
I’m looking for her. For them…because I swear I played that game for her tonight. For Theo.
Every shift, every hit, every second I chased that puck down the boards—I had them in my head. Her on the balcony cheering, and Theo in his jersey, practically vibrating out of his seat. I told myself if I could just put one in the net, if I could just make it count, I’d give them something they’d never forget.
Now the win is real. The scoreboard is final.
And the only person I’m looking for is Juliette. I keep my eye on the small crowd gathering around us, everyone wanting to celebrate the moment alongside us, and it’s not long before I spot them.
Theo first—his official Dominion jersey sleeves are pushed up, eyes are still bright, and he’s practically shaking with leftover adrenaline like he was the one on the ice. Juliette is right behind him, calm on the surface, steady in a way that makes me wonder how much she’s carrying without saying it out loud. Charlie and Vivian trail along, grinning like they’ve wandered into a place they’re not supposed to be and decided not to apologize for it.
Seeing them here, after a night like this, afterthatkind of win, does something unexpected to me. Grounds it. Sharpens it. Like all that noise and momentum finally have somewhere to land.
I catch Theo’s eye and his grin widens, like tonight just keeps getting better. Playoffs feel good. I do care about winning, that’s for sure. But this? This feels more like what I really need right now.
“Hey,” I say, dropping into a crouch in front of Theo. “You got your jersey.”
“It’s the best! I love it,” he says looking down at it. “It’s very cool.”
I may have just won that game out there, but inside here this is really winning. It was a good game, but he likes the jersey. I give his fist a bump as Juliette taps his shoulder.
“You got to see something special tonight, huh, Theo? You were giving us a play-by-play of Sawyer’s movements the whole game.”
“It was awesome,” he says, breathless. “Did you see when you did that thing, you ran into number 15 and he went down so hard?—”
