On the ice, Colt pushes off the boards and starts skating toward the tunnel, only to be surrounded by Willa and Coach Ashford. They start talking, and Colt's entire face lights up, likehejust got handed his lifelong dream.
"What's going on?" I ask, watching carefully as Colt throws his arms around Willa, pulling her into a huge hug.
Delaney shuffles up beside me, smiling down at the rink. "I'm not sure."
Big Mike chuckles beside us. "Let's just say… that looks like the face of a man who just got handedhisdream, too."
Delaney loops her arm through mine and pulls me in close. "Then it looks like we need to get your man up here to celebrate. I'll go get him, shall I?"
Shit.
He’ll see the pastry box. He’ll see my face. He'll see theenvelope.
And that's all fine.
But I’ll have to decide, not just about the ridiculous life-changing offer, but about what happens when the dream you gave up on suddenly gets handed back to you, wrapped in a purple ribbon and sealed with a kiss you’re still trying to believe in.
Chapter 19
Colt
The ice under my skates feels different today. The way my edges bite, the way my body remembers the rhythm of a full-contact drill after a month of sitting on the fucking sidelines.
It's all different, or maybe, it's because I had Zoey wrapped around me last night, and I can't stop thinking about it.
“Last one, Lane. Give me a full lap, then hit the net. No holding back.”
Willa stands at the boards, tablet in hand, watching me like I’m a bomb she’s finally about to finish defusing.
"Alright," I nod, my breath fogging in the cold arena.
Around me, the guys are finishing their own drills. Cade’s doing ridiculous between-the-legs puck tricks near center ice, showing off for no one. Gabe’s a mountain of quiet intensity by the blue line, his dark eyes tracking my every move.
This is it. The final test.
I push off, my skates carving deep into the ice. The speed comes back like muscle memory, the rush of air, the burn in my thighs, the perfectly balanced glide.
I take the corner tight, my body leaning into the turn, and for a second, I’m just a kid again, flying across a frozen pond with nothing to worry about except whether I’d beat my parents home for dinner.
Newsflash. Ialwaysdid.
I shake the thought away and focus on the net. Theo’s in goal, his mask tilted, waiting. I pick up a puck from the corner, stickhandle through the imaginary defense, deke left, then pull right at the last second.
The puck sails top shelf, ringing off the crossbar with aping.
A cheer goes up from the bench. Cade whistles, loud and obnoxious. “Holy shit, he's back!He's back!”
Coach Ashford watches from the bench, his arms crossed while a rare smile touches his lips. “Nice, Lane.”
Willa taps at the screen of her tablet, then looks up, her expression serious.
"Alright, Colt. You want the good news, or the bad news?"
"Bad news first. Always."
"The bad news," Willa says, tapping her tablet with a perfectly straight face. "You left a very nice lip balm in the training room. The cherry-scented one. It's mine now."
I blink. "That's it? That’s the bad news?"
