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“I remember sitting here telling your dad that I was sure we could turn the basement into a mini hockey rink so we could play year-round.” I smiled at the random memory.

Nicolas chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet you could do that if you wanted to.”

“Can you imagine?”

His laughter increased. “If you pull that off, I expect to be invited to the opening game.”

“You know it.” I began signing the papers he handed over. I’d read them all over the past couple of days, as had my attorney, who’d initialed the top right corner of each so I’d know she’d reviewed it. “Say, are you sure you don’t want any more of the furniture?”

“We don’t really have room for more than the couple of chairs we took. If there’s anything you don’t want, I’m sure there are plenty of people in town who will take it off your hands.”

“Everything fits the house so well, I don’t imagine I’ll get rid of anything. It’ll also make moving in super easy.”

Our eyes met for a moment as I handed over the stack of paperwork to Ms. Easton, a final acknowledgement that Nicolas’s family place was safe with me.

The house symbolized far more than just a place to live. It held as many memories as the home I grew up in with my moms. I planned to fill this forever home with friends and family just like the Montgomerys had.

I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket. “I’ll have Caroline do the transfer.”

“Great. I’ll—” His phone sounded from his pocket. “Sorry.” He sighed when he saw the screen. “I’ve got to get this.”

He started to get up, but I raised my hand. “You stay. I’m gonna go look around.”

He nodded and answered the call. “Hi. This is Nicolas.”

Outside I headed for the pond, which shimmered in the morning sun just beyond a line of trees.

I opened the messaging app on my phone and brought up my texts with Caroline, my attorney for the past five years. Tapping the microphone icon, I said, “Good morning, Caroline. Everything’s signed. You can transfer the money.” I thumbed send.

Swiping over to the camera, I brought the phone up to frame myself with the lake and trees in the background. The sun couldn’t have been more perfect for how the light danced on the water and in the leaves. I smiled and snapped a few images, selecting my favorite and adding it to the group chat I had with Mom Elena and Momma Grace.

I tapped the mic icon again. “It’s all mine.”

I sent that message on its way.

As much as I loved playing hockey, being back in Maplewood was the best. This summer promised to be fantastic. I’d settle into this house, and hockey camp was always a blast. I loved working with the kids, and this year many of my friends were coming in to be guest coaches. Of course, Pride in Maplewood was always an incredible time.

This year I had some anxiety associated with Pride, though. Although being named grand marshal was an honor, the role came with expectations during the weekend.

What if I let everyone down?

Being the center of attention was never easy.

Yes, I was in the spotlight all the time playing for Seattle—but I knew how to play hockey. It also wasn’t all about me, but about the team.

Grand marshal meant not only being in the parade, but also judging some competitions and maybe more. I didn’t have the full rundown yet.

As if she sensed my anxiety, Mom called. I connected the video call and held up the phone, framing myself much like I had with the selfie.

“Good morning!”

“Hey, sweetheart!” Mom’s voice immediately reduced the tightness in my chest. “You look so happy. It’s gorgeous out there this morning.”

“I was just out looking around, taking it all in.”

“Everything okay?” Mom asked.

It was impossible to hide anything from Elena with her counselor skills. My voice must have given a little something away.