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Wyatt breaks the kiss just long enough to look over my shoulder. “She said yes, buddy.”
Another bark.
“Exactly.”
I laugh and pull his face back toward mine.
“Your secret girlfriend,” I remind him.
“For now.”
There’s something about the way he says it that makes warmth spread through my chest.
Not like he’s agreeing to hide me.
Like he’s already looking forward to the day he doesn’t have to.
Later, when I’m brushing my teeth at Wyatt’s sink, I notice my toothbrush sitting in the cup beside his.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve started leaving little pieces of myself here, and Wyatt keeps making room for them without either of us talking about it.
Except now there’s a word for what we are.
Girlfriend.
Boyfriend.
I look at our toothbrushes sitting side by side and smile at my reflection like an idiot.
Maybe that’s why, when Wyatt mentions the family skate tomorrow morning, I don’t immediately come up with an excuse not to go.
I’ve skipped the last few team events. At first because things between Wyatt and me felt too new and confusing, and then because being around my dad and the team while pretending there was nothing going on seemed like more stress than I needed.
But now I actually want to go.
Not only because Wyatt will be there, although that’s definitely part of it.
I grew up around this team, spent half my childhood in that rink, and somewhere along the way I started avoiding something that used to feel like home just because my feelings for one hockey player got complicated.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
So the next morning, I put a little more effort into getting ready than a casual morning at the rink probably requires and drive over before I can change my mind.
When I pull into the arena parking lot, Riley is standing near the entrance with Molly bundled into her stroller, and the second she spots me, a smile spreads across her face.
“Look who finally remembered where the rink is.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Sure you have.” She bumps her shoulder against mine but thankfully leaves it there, then loops her arm through mine while steering Molly’s stroller with her other hand as we head inside.
Everything feels exactly the same as it always has.
The cold coming off the ice, the smell of coffee and rubber mats, the scrape of blades carrying through the building. I’ve spent so much of my life in places like this that I stopped noticing most of it years ago, but today the familiarity settles something in me.
Practice is winding down by the time we get to the glass, the guys running a loose scrimmage before the family portion starts while some of the kids are already gathering near the boards.
Theo has Emma out on the ice with him, skating slowly backward while she holds both his hands and squeals every time he pulls her a little faster.
