—to see Tuck come sauntering in, a little late, maybe apologetic, maybe breathless, but here.
“Go, Josh!” Nicklas shouts suddenly, jolting me back as Josh breaks down the rink, stickhandling with a determination that makes something twist in my chest.
He shoots.
The puck slams into the net.
Goal.
The arena erupts—cheers, clapping, the sharp echo of celebration bouncing off the walls. I’m on my feet without thinking, clapping hard, my heart lifting with the moment.
“That’s my boy,” I call, my voice catching.
Josh beams up at us, pure joy lighting up his face. And then, it falters. Just slightly. Like he remembered. His eyes flick again to the empty seat beside me. The one that should be filled. The one that was supposed to be filled.
He lifts his hand in a small, subdued wave instead of the excited one he usually gives, his smile dimming at the edges before he turns away, letting his teammates swarm him in celebration.
My hands fall still.
The noise of the crowd rushes back in, but it feels hollow now.
And all I can think is?—
Where are you, Tuck?
The rest of the game passes in a blur of motion and noise, like I’m watching it from somewhere just outside my own body. Sticks clash, skates carve, voices rise and fall—but none of it quite resisters. When the final buzzer sounds and the scoreboard flashes two to one—Panthers over Sharks—we’re all on our feet, clapping, cheering, smiling.
As the boys clear the ice, I gather my things, my fingers fumbling with my bag as I wave Lucas and Ari over.
“I’m going to get a lift back with Nicklas,” Kate says.
I glance up just in time to see Nicklas drape an easy arm over her shoulders, the gesture casual, familiar—his grin aimed entirely at her. It’s effortless, the way he looks at her. Open. Certain. It’s easy to see how much he likes her. A flicker of something tight passes through me. Tuck won’t like that. But Kate’s a grown woman. She can choose who she wants.
“Okay,” I say, forcing a small smile. “Meet you there.”
Lucas and Ari jog over, flushed and buzzing from the game, and we head outside into the crisp night air to wait. Twenty minutes later, we’re climbing into the car, the heater humming to life, but the knot in my stomach hasn’t loosened. If anything, it’s tighter.
Josh buckles in, then glances over at me. “Where was Tuck, Mom?”
The quiet disappointment in his voice cuts straight through me. Guts me. If I mess this up, I don’t just lose him, the boys lose him, too. That’s on me.
I’m the one who swore I’d never do this again. Never let a man into their lives unless I was sure. Unless he was all in. Unless he wanted this—us—the chaos and the noise and the ready-made family that comes with loving me.
And I broke that promise.
I let Tuck in anyway.
Long before that accident—before something shifted in him, before he started showing up in ways that felt intentional. Permanent. Before he made it feel like this might be something more. How was I not supposed to believe in that?
Or maybe…
Maybe that’s just who he is.
The guy who shows up. The one who steps in when people need him. He does it for everyone—the team, his friends…
Us.
Have I just mistaken kindness for something deeper? Built something in my head that was never really there?
