Chapter 14
Lisa
I tell myself I am prepared before we even reach the arena doors. I already knew, when Zane mentioned the game earlier that week, that I would eventually have to face the reality of sitting close enough to the ice again to hear the blades cut into it and feel the vibration of players crashing into the boards. Still, preparation turns out to be something entirely different from actually stepping through the entrance tunnel. The rink temperature drops several degrees in a single breath. The familiar smell of cold air, rubber flooring, and metal railings hits me all at once. The feeling is so immediate and physical that my body reacts before my mind has time to catch up with what is happening.
It is ridiculous, I remind myself as we move forward with the rest of the crowd toward our section. This is hockey, not figure skating, and nobody here expects me to perform, compete, or land anything perfectly on one foot while pretending not to feel fear. Yet the closer we get to the opening where the rink becomes visible, the more my chest tightens as though my body still believes I am about to skate onto the ice myself instead of sitting safely in the stands like any other spectator.
“Hey,” Leo says quietly beside as he catches up with me,“you ok?”
It is not the kind of question someone asks out of politeness or obligation. It’s also not the kind of tone people use when they expect an easy answer. It makes it harder to brush off, even though I am very good at brushing things off.
“I’m fine,” I say anyway. Technically, I am fine, I am breathing and walking and functioning, which counts as fine in my book, even if my lungs still feel slightly too tight for comfort.
He studies me for another step or two, as though he is deciding whether to believe me. Then he lets it go without pushing, which somehow makes the moment feel even more significant because he respects my answer, even when he clearly suspects it is incomplete.
Leo somehow knows exactly where our section is, which is not surprising, because he always seems to move through spaces as if he has memorized them in advance. I follow him through rows of cheering fans until we reach the seats he has been guiding us toward. Instead of spotting Gwen waving from the row ahead like I expected, the first thing I see is something that makes my steps slow without my permission.
My parents are standing there.
For a moment, I honestly think I must be mistaken. There is no reason they should be here, and certainly no reason they should be here without warning me first. However, then my mother turns slightly, and I recognize the orange Grizzlies scarf around her neck. It is still folded too neatly to look like something she chose for herself rather than something she picked up at the merchandise counter on her way inside. The confirmation settles in my chest with a weight I had not prepared for.
“Oh,” I say quietly before I can stop myself.
Leo notices immediately.
“What?” he asks.
“My parents,” I answer, keeping my voice low even though they have clearly already seen me.
My father is standing with his arms crossed, the same way he used to stand at the edge of figure skating rinks when I was younger. He always watches without speaking or smiling. He watches as if evaluation were the only purpose of his presence. Suddenly, I am not entirely in the arena anymore, but somewhere much colder and much smaller, where every movement mattered more than it should have.
I quickly grab my phone and warn Gwen.
ME: Parents alert!
I see Gwen waving from the top while she makes her way down to us. Her orange blouse is bright enough to catch my attention even across the section.
“Finally!” I call out as they reach us. Hugging everyone quickly gives me something practical to focus on, rather than the fact that my body still hasn’t fully relaxed after stepping into the building.
I hug Tess first, then Gwen last, leaning closer than necessary so I can whisper,“I texted you earlier, did you see it?” before I let go.
She tilts her head and shakes it slowly.
“No, why?”
I step aside.
“My parents decided to surprise Zane and show up to his game,” I say. I carry a smile that feels carefully constructed rather than natural.
The look Gwen gives me immediately tells me she understands exactly what kind of surprise that is.
“Mom,” I say, turning slightly so I don’t have to look directly at my father yet,“I want you to meet Leo and Tess and, of course, Gwen.”
She shakes their hands politely. Her expression is composed and distant in the same way she used to greet judges after competitions she didn’t approve of.
“Glenda,” she says.
My father does not introduce himself.
