“I was benched after my injury and couldn’t play. I felt… useless.” His eyes find mine in the crowd, and he holds my gaze. “But then I walked into Zoey’s bakery. I saw the care she puts into every single thing she makes. Not just the pastries… but the way she knows every regular’s order, the way she remembersbirthdays, or the way she makes this town feel like a family even when you’re just stopping in for a muffin.”
He pauses, glancing toward the display table where my creations sit like little works of art.
“What I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t just walking into a bakery. I was walking into someone’s dream. A dream she’s been building every single day, sunrise to sunset, with food in her hair and a smile on her face. Even when the ovens are fighting her.”
Another ripple of laughter.
“This town,” Colt continues, his voice dropping, “has a way of pulling people in. It gives you a team when you didn’t know you needed one. It gives you a home when you didn’t think you deserved one.”
He gestures to the Snow Leopards banners hanging above us.
“That’s what this partnership is about. It’s not just about selling treats at a hockey game. It’s about building together. It’s about believing in the people who believe in this town.”
The crowd is quiet now, listening.
“And sometimes,” he says, a slow grin spreading across his face, “when you find something that special, you want to make sure the right people are here to celebrate it.”
He glances toward the arched entrance at the back of the room. “So I made a few calls.”
The double doors swing open.
And three large, familiar, impossible figures fill the doorway.
My breath stops.
Because Mason, Declan, and Beck Morrison stand there in a row, all in various states of travel-wrinkled casual wear, all grinning like they’ve just pulled off the greatest heist in history.
Morgan shrieks from the front row. “UNCLE DECLAN! UNCLE BECK! UNCLE MASON!”
She takes off across the room like a purple-and-gold rocket, launching herself at Declan first because he’s the closest. He catches her mid-air, spinning her in a circle that makes her braids fly.
The entire room erupts in applause and confused delight. The Snow Leopards guys are looking back and forth between the newcomers and Colt, who’s still on stage, looking unbearably pleased with himself.
I’m frozen. My brothers. All three of them. Here.
They move through the crowd, and Mason reaches me first, pulling me into a bear hug that lifts me off my feet.
“Surprise, Zo-Zo.”
“How did you—when did you—”
“Your hockey boy called,” Beck says, slinging an arm around my shoulders once Mason sets me down. “Said you were doing something big and you’d want your brothers here. Couldn’t say no to that.”
Declan approaches last, Morgan still clinging to him like a koala. His eyes, the same hazel-green as mine, scan my face, then drift past me to where Colt is now stepping off the stage after encouraging everyone to get voting.
“So that’s him,” Declan says, eyeing Colt as he high fives Delaney like they've plotted this together.
“That’s him,” I whisper back.
Declan’s expression is unreadable for a moment. Then he looks down at Morgan, who’s babbling about brownies and chocolate fountains and how Colt taught her a secret handshake.
“He flew us out,” Declan says simply. “First class and all.”
"Of course he did."
Colt reaches my side, his hand finding my back. He nods to my brothers, suddenlyveryrespectful. “Mason. Beck. Declan. Glad you could make it.”
Declan studies him for a long, silent second. The room chatter continues around us, but in our little circle, the air is…charged.
