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They’re both glowing a bit when Dr. Ann bids Lily goodbye. Instead of spinning to find me, Lily stays frozen by the largest painting on the right-side wall.

I prop myself side by side to her, staring across at the painting, and as I take it in slower, I realize why.

“It looks like Wild Roses,” I say voice quiet. “Remind me, when did he paint it?”

“He was in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in the hospital. But it’s not,” she says, before lifting her fingers into the air and moving them slowly in strokes. “It’s not Wild Roses. Just the colors are similar. Except, this artist used more of a brick red to outline the leaves—the green shade is just making it appear brown. But it’s red.”

I nod, scooting just close enough to feel the breathy exhale she takes. Navy eyes find mine, wide and so beautiful my chest feels tight.

She tucks her hand into mine and looks up at me. And then, because my brain is mush when she looks at me like that, like a supplicant to a god, a nun at the altar—I press a quick, heavy kiss to her temple and smooth the strands that have fallen in the front.

“Are you ready to go?”

Lily nods and we head out toward her car. It’s later now, the early sunset of winter casting us in low light. I walk to the passenger side of her car and open the door, helping her up, before leaning into her left ear to whisper, “Thanks for the fun date, doll.”

I pull her bottom lip with my thumb, then wait for her to open for me, taking the grape lollipop from my mouth and slipping it onto her tongue.

Chapter 32

Toren

It’s odd to think that I once resented being on this team and the semiforced move to Waterfell in general. When I first arrived, I made myself sick with anticipatory anxiety before almost every practice. But now, with LaBlanc here breathing down my neck, I look forward to practices that aren’t just Holden and me. The team has become a sort of safe place in the arena.

Everyone seems moderately happy and loose today, gearing up for a home game series starting tomorrow, and an away game series next. The entire team—all four lines—seem nearly pristine and prepared to take a run at the Frozen Four title.

They’ve won before.

I might’ve been on the team that won last year, but I wasn’t part of it. Not really.

Last year, my team kicked me off after my hit on Rhys Koteskiy, even though it had been ruled a clean hit. It didn’t matter. And that coach hadn’t wanted me to begin with, always waiting for me to slip a toe out of line.

But I’d nearly killed someone.

“I can’t see—”

A shudder racks my body, and I clench my fists not to tremble—or worse, look over at Rhys. Like the sight of him alive and well will fix something in me. Pathetic.

Still, I’m used to the cold shoulder greeting I usually get inside Waterfell’s arena, especially the locker room. Today is worse, too, since Harris announced that he removed McKill from the team. He won’t say why, but by a few of the looks I’ve gotten from the juniors that were friends with the guy, I’m sure he’s spun some story involving me.

I’ve been spoiled lately, I think, by the warmer excitement of my Learn to Skate days, the kids all clambering for me. Sometimes I manage to catch Lily grinning, that slight excited expression, before she remembers to school her features into something more austere.

It’s worth it, even if it’s only for a second.

As for the last several months, there’s only one face excited to see me when I enter the locker room and that’s Holden Dougherty.

He’s smiling as I step in now to change.

“Is that grin because you’re hoping he plants another one on you?” Freddy asks, taking another shirtless picture of himself only half dressed.

Holden shakes his head. “Funny one, asshole.”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance,” the left winger says, tossing his phone into his bag and shrugging on his pads.

I start to dress quietly, in my corner spot.

Rhys groans. “Please, can we stop talking about the damn kiss.” He sinks his head into his hands, already fully dressed, one earbud in, the other dangling from the cord. “My girlfriend is still talking about that damn thing.”

“I’m sure if you asked nicely, Rhysie, one of us will kiss you. For Sadie, of course.”