I help Theo onto the ice, one careful step at a time.
He wobbles instantly.
“Okay,” he says, panicked. “Okay. I don’t know how to do this.”
“I’ve got you,” I say, hands firm on his arms. “No rushing. Just stand.”
He stands.
Barely.
Juliette watches from the boards, hands clasped together, eyes shining with nervousness and hope all at once.
Theo takes one step.
Then another.
And then?—
“Well, would you look at that.”
I glance up.
One by one, my teammates drift onto the ice. No helmets. Nosticks at first. Just grins, playful curiosity, and that loose, happy energy that comes after a win.
“What’s going on?” someone asks.
I grin. “It’s Theo’s birthday.”
That’s all it takes.
Someone tosses him a stick. Someone else gently skates a slow circle around him. Another teammate drops into a crouch and says, “You ready to play?” while someone else hands out helmets like they’re Halloween candy.
Theo’s mouth falls open. “With you?”
“With us,” another voice says.
They spread out—not overwhelming, not loud. Just inviting.
I release Theo slowly, skating backward in front of him. “You don’t have to be good,” I tell him. “You just have to have fun.”
He pushes off…and he almost falls.
Six hands reach out instantly, all of them ready to catch him because he’s with us, on the ice. He’s now family.
Theo laughs—full, unguarded, bright. The birthday boy on a birthday high, again. As it should be.
From the boards, I catch Juliette’s face. Her eyes are wet, and she’s smiling so hard it looks like it hurts, while my heart squeezes so hard I grab at my chest. Theo notices.
“You okay?” he asks. Innocent. Sweet.
“I am, my heart just had a stutter.”
He ponders this, scrunching up his face. “Like when you’re nervous?”
“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” I say, humored by his all-knowing ways.
“Mom says if your heart starts beating really hard, like when you’re nervous, to remember it’s just your heart giving you applause you didn’t know you needed.”
