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I flick her nose gently. “Now hush and finish your test.”

When she does, I pull her back to lean against my chest, checking her answers, giving her indulgent forehead kisses for the right answers and softly explaining her errors as we go. She falls asleep in my arms and I stay up for hours just to watch her.

Chapter 40

Lily

I passed.

A C-minus—but passing nonetheless. And, as a very hyper blond boy next to me in my retest told me, C’s get degrees. It’s a funny sentiment and I like the way it feels off my tongue, but it’s true. This is all I need.

If I can maintain this, a C average will get me through to graduation and then I can stop panicking so much about what I have to do with Carson. Elation drives me, too amped up with excitement to go home, especially because I remember that Paloma is at a hockey practice today.

My smile grows wider as I start to march through the snow toward the arena, where all the people I care most about are finally in one place.

I don’t bother dusting off the snowy bits, knowing the mat-like flooring will soak it up like it does the ice skates. Instead, I nearly sprint in my heeled boots, scarf whipping around my neck, as I head for the locker room, where practice should be finishing up. I can catch them on their way out and disappear again before my dad sees me.

Slipping through the smelly, empty room, I hold my breath until I’m in the tunnel, before knocking into a large body immediately.

“Hey, little weirdo.” My entire body relaxes, looking up at Holden’s smile through his cage. “What are you doing here?”

“I passed my math retest.”

His smile only grows wider. “Yeah?” Arms scoop me up in a tight squeeze, lifting me slightly off the ground.

I tense, only briefly, before every muscle starts to soften in his hold. Physical touch—specifically, physical affection—was rare for me growing up. I’d only ever received anything like it from Toren. But I like it, crave it, and not just romantically but platonically. Like falling asleep on Paloma’s shoulder on the couch during a movie the other night. Like this hug. It feels good. Warm.

Like a home, maybe.

“Let’s go! Should we celebrate?”

I laugh and smile as he puts me down. “Maybe later.” He ruffles my hair affectionately and jerks his shoulder backward.

“Tor’s still in there, but he’s with your dad so—ya know, tread carefully and all that.”

Nodding, I step around him and through the tunnel, avoiding a few of the players exiting from the bench. I see Paloma standing across from Coach Harris and listening intently as he goes over something, but he finishes and gives her a smile before she turns and spies me lingering at the edge—close to two tall players, one with a 51 emblazoned on his back, the other with shaggy blond hair, fiddling with a chain around his neck.

“Lily?” Paloma calls, stepping past them easily. “What are you doing here?”

It’s a smiling question, which makes it easier for me to know she’s not mad I’ve shown up, arguably randomly.

There’s a slight tinge of pink across my cheeks, warmth I can feel despite the frigid air in the rink.

“I just finished my math test,” I say with a quirk to my lips. This is weird, right? “I’m—um, I passed this time.”

“Hell yeah!” the blond hockey boy shouts, slapping my hand in a high five I didn’t offer. I jolt back a little, but the look on his face is disarming enough. “Way to go, pip-squeak.”

The nickname makes me frown for a moment, but Paloma rolls her eyes and steps up closer.

“Killed it, like I knew you would,” she says. “Should we do something to celebrate?”

I feel like I could burst, bubbling over like an overfilled champagne flute with effervescent joy. Surrounded by people who care about me—people that might be my friends. It’s a new feeling, and one I want to hold tight to with both hands.

Before I can respond to her, my eyes find him on the ice. Toren Kane is distracting to my mind, always has been; since I was seven years old he’s been a fixation of my mind. Permanent and beautiful over years and change and distance.

He’s skating a little faster at the sight of me, which sends butterflies wreaking havoc on my tummy, before I step forward to the barrier between us.

“Tor,” I call, cheeks hurting as I smile. His eyes dart to the side, inspecting the small crowd of players I don’t really know, and Paloma at my back, arms already crossed. There’s a sharpness to his features that’s always there, but it looks more like a blade now, ready to cut.