We reach Remi, and Elle slides into the seat beside her. “Hey, pretty girl, ready to watch Daddy win?”
“Elllllllie!” Max scrambles over Remi’s lap to give Elle a cuddle, and Remi and I collectively ‘aww’ at the sight.
Remi has Zela strapped to her chest, and Max is now halfway over the bench, trying to see better. I don’t know how she manages with two kids under three, but she never seems fazed.
“You made it,” she says warmly.
“We wouldn’t miss it.”
Frankie appears and plops down on my other side, clutching a hot drink and bringing it slowly to her lips. “I’ve been told I’ve gotta be here for moral support. I don’t know the rules.”
“You don’t need to,” I tell her, because I don’t either. “Just boo loudly when the PD score.”
“Oh, I can do that.”
Elle vibrates beside me, her legs swinging and scarf half-unraveling while she tries to keep track of players already out on the ice.
The Maplewood Police Department team is warming up on the far side of the rink, their navy jerseys cutting sharp lines against the white. The Fire Department boys skate out a minute later to a ridiculous cheer from a cluster of off-duty crew in the back row.
I spot Evan immediately. He moves differently on ice, almost as though he feels completely at ease. Which is ridiculous, because gliding on hard ice in sharp blades is not my idea of easy.
But the restraint he carries everywhere else seems to shed just enough to let something competitive and bright through. He laughs at something Mason says, shoulder-checking him lightly before cutting across center.
“Daddy!” Elle shouts, waving both arms wildly.
He glances up and finds us in seconds, lifting his stick in acknowledgment and winking with a grin. My stomach does something very inconvenient, because where the hell did this man get the audacity to look so attractive in an FD hockey uniform, and when, exactly, did he start having a dimple on one cheek when he winked?
I clear my throat and smile back with a short nod before he turns back to the guys. Max and Elle start some chant they claim Mason taught them, and between Remi, me, and Frankie, we manage to keep them from causing too much disruption before puck drop.
The first period is fast and messy in a way I can barely keep up with. Bodies fly across the ice, while the puck disappearsevery time I try to follow it, but Evan never seems rushed. He moves like he already knows where everything’s going, sliding into position as though he’s done it a thousand times before.
Tucker is different. Faster, maybe. More confident and definitely flashier than Evan. He scores first and skates past our section afterward with a cocky grin that immediately earns boos from Frankie and every kid in a five-seat radius.
“Rude!” Tucker yells back.
Evan answers ten minutes later with a goal of his own. One second, he’s near the boards, the next he’s weaving through two defenders so smoothly it’s effortless. The puck slams into the back of the net, and the bleachers around us erupt in cheers. I don’t realize I’m on my feet shouting along with everyone until Remi bumps her hip against mine.
“He’s good, eh?”
By the third period, the game’s tied. The air in the rink sharpens, and the game shifts from friendly to something closer to rivalry. Every hit gets bigger reactions, and every near-miss draws a groan from the crowd.
Mason sends the puck across the ice to Evan, and the second it reaches him, he shifts his weight, shoots the puck at the goal, and the net ripples. We’re on our feet again, and the firefighter fans surrounding us explode so loudly the bleachers shake beneath our feet. Maplewood FD are up by one.
When the final buzzer sounds, it’s to a wave of cheers and groans, and Elle launches herself into my side.
“We won! We won!”
“We did,” I laugh.
The teams tap gloves at center ice, chirping the entire time. And when they start dispersing, Tucker peels away from his teammates and glides toward the boards where we’re standing.
He tugs his helmet off and shakes out his damp hair, smile far too confident for someone currently drenched in sweat.
“Still owe you that lake tour,” he says, bracing one forearm against the rail in front of me. “Tonight’s a good night for it.”
I feel Frankie perk up beside me, her eyes darting quickly between Tucker and me.
“I’m technically working,” I reply lightly, nodding toward Elle, who is now attempting to climb the bleachers with Max. “Got responsibilities.”
