I turn, caught, my pulse spiking again. I have to say something. I can’t just sit here pretending?—
“Kate, I… I…”
Her hand settles over mine, stopping me before I can unravel completely.
“Look,” she says gently. The puck drops. The game begins. And just like that, everything else falls away. The sharp crack of sticks, the rush of skates carving across the ice—it pulls us all in, the box going quiet as we watch. I follow the play, back and forth, trying to focus.
Ash to Penn.
Penn across to Nicklas.
Nicklas to Tuck.
He takes the puck and drives down the ice like a man possessed, fast and controlled and utterly relentless.
“My God,” Gina breathes beside me, nudging my arm. “Tuck is on fire tonight.”
I nod, because I can’t trust myself to speak.
“It's like he’s got a bee in his bonnet,” Kate says, leaning forward, her tone light, teasing. She glances at me with a small grin. “Something our grandmother used to say. Mom says it now, and well…apparently so do I.”
A soft laugh escapes her, and I manage a faint smile in return. There was a time—such a short time ago—that I thought I might get to hear those sayings firsthand. That I might sit in a kitchen somewhere with his family, learning the rhythm of them, becoming part of it.
Becoming his.
My thoughts shift when Tuck shoots and scores, and the arena explodes. We’re all on our feet in an instant, the sound crashing over us, loud and wild and electric. His teammates swarm him, pounding his helmet, shouting?—
But Tuck…he looks up, right at the box. Right at me. My breath catches so hard it almost hurts. God…maybe he doesn’t want me here. Maybe this—me sitting in his space, in his world—is the last thing he needs.
“You must be his good luck charm,” Brighton teases, bumping my shoulder lightly. “Last time you were here, he scored twice.”
“Just like Kate is Nicklas’s charm,” Gina adds. “Final goal last time. Assist tonight. He’s definitely showing off.”
I force a smile, but inside, everything feels too tight. Too loud. Too close to the surface. Because if I’m his good luck charm…why did he let me go?
The game pushes on, the energy building, tension climbing with every passing minute. By the time the third period winds down, it’s still one to nothing. Then the power play hits. Nicklas moves like lightning, the puck snapping between sticks. Kate leans forward beside me, barely breathing?—
Crack.
Goal.
The horn blares and we’re up again, cheering, clapping, the box alive with excitement. Nicklas looks up, straight at Kate, and grins. She beams back. Even as warmth blooms in my chest for them, something else curls tighter around my heart.
Because that’s what I thought I had.
The game ends in a rush of sound and celebration, voices rising, people gathering coats, already talking about post-game plans.
“Boys, grab your coats,” I say, reaching for mine. But they don’t move. They’re frozen, eyes locked on the ice.
“Lucas?” I follow his gaze and my heart stops. Tuck stands at center ice. Alone. Waiting. The noise in the box fades, replaced by something else entirely. Silence.
I turn slowly, and my stomach drops. Everyone is looking at me. Every single one of them.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, panic threading through my voice. Kate’s hand slips around my arm, and she guides me toward the door.
“Kate—”
“Do you love him, Maria?” she asks softly.
