“I observe things.”
“Unfortunately,” Colby mutters.
I grin into my coffee.
One year later, this team still behaves like overgrown teenagers with access to professional sports contracts.
Honestly?
Briar Cove adores them.
The Frostholm Blizzards unofficially invaded the town over the past year.
Several more players bought lake cabins near Colby’s place, and the community rink expanded youth programs.
The annual Winter Lights Festival now includes a celebrity charity skate that Mrs. Bellamy treats like the Olympics.
And somehow the entire thing feels weirdly perfect.
“Mommy!”
Jillie races into the bakery from skating lessons wearing her hockey gear and approximately zero balance.
Colby immediately reaches out on instinct before she trips over her own shoes.
“Easy there.”
“I did TWO STOPS.”
“Very impressive.”
“And Coach said my passing is aggressive.”
Colby looks alarmingly proud. “That’s my girl.”
The words hit me softly right beneath the ribs.
Jillie beams so brightly I think she could power Main Street by herself.
***
Every Saturday morning Colby and Liam coach little-kid hockey at Briar Cove Ice Center.
He claims it’s because “kids are less dramatic than professional athletes.”
The children worship him, Jillie especially.
“My Colby taught me backwards skating,” she informs a customer proudly.
“Your Colby?” the woman asks with a smile.
Jillie nods seriously. “Yes. He’s permanent.”
The entire bakery goes quiet for half a second. My heart physically aches. Because one year ago she whispered terrified questions about whether he’d leave without saying goodbye.
Now she sayspermanentlike she totally believes it.
Across the kitchen, Colby goes very still. Then he walks over and kisses the top of Jillie’s helmet gently.
