We walked side by side for most of the hike. Sometimes talking. Sometimes not. The quiet never felt uncomfortable with Thane.
When the trees finally began to thin, I saw the overlook ahead. A weathered wooden railing stretched along the edge of the ridge. Beyond it, Juniper Hollow spread out below us. Snow-covered rooftops dotted the landscape. Smoke rose from chimneys. From this distance, the town looked peaceful. Self-contained. Safe.
I stepped closer to the railing and rested my hands against the wood. "I get it," I said quietly.
Thane stepped beside me. "Get what?"
I kept my gaze on the town below. "Why his mom brought them here."
Thane rested his forearms against the railing beside me.
"My mom died when I was eight." The words came out quietly. "I keep wondering what we'd have done together if she'd lived." I stared out at the town below. "Not specific things. I don't sit around wishing she'd taken me skating or brought me to Christmas tree farms." A small smile tugged at my mouth. "Honestly, she'd probably have hated hockey."
Thane laughed softly. "That's a terrible thing to say to a professional hockey player."
"I know." The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. "I just wonder what ours would’ve been."
The admission sat between us.
"My friends talk about things their families always did. Recipes. Traditions. Places they went every year. Stories everybody knows because they've heard them a hundred times." I swallowed. "I don't really have any of that."
The words sounded smaller out loud than they had in my head.
Beside me, Thane remained quiet. He didn't tell me everything happened for a reason. Or try to convince me everything was okay. He simply stood there with me while I looked out over the town. Somehow, that helped more than any speech could have.
The silence stretched comfortably between us. But the thing that had been lingering at the edge of my mind finally pushed its way forward.
"Tomorrow we go home."
I felt Thane glance toward me. "Yeah."
This little bubble we'd somehow built around ourselves would be gone.
I rubbed my thumb against the weathered wood of the railing. "What happens when we go back?"
When Thane finally spoke, his voice was steady. "I don't know all of it yet." His hand found mine where it rested on the railing. "I just know I don't want this to stop when we leave."
I looked down at our joined hands. "I think that's what scares me."
Thane's fingers tightened slightly around mine. "What does?"
"That we don’t know all of it yet.” I drew in a slow breath. ”When everything goes back to normal, I don't know where I fit." The words were out now. Impossible to take back. "You have hockey." I shrugged. "You have your team. Your schedule. Your life." I hesitated. "And I don't know if I'm part of that life or just part of this."
Thane turned fully toward me. "Kieran, you're not temporary."
Temporary was exactly how so much of my life had felt. Temporary homes. Temporary families. Temporary places at tables that belonged to somebody else.
For a second, I couldn't look at him. The pressure behind my ribs felt too tight.
Thane lifted a hand to the back of my neck; the gesture felt so natural that I leaned into it. His thumb brushed lightly against my skin. I rested my forehead on his shoulder and closed my eyes. For most of my life, wanting things had felt dangerous.
People left.
Homes changed.
The things you loved disappeared.
Eventually, I convinced myself that it was fine. Better than fine. I told myself I didn't need anything permanent. Didn't need the kind of future other people seemed to build so effortlessly.
