Page 44 of The Love Comeback
“It’s not knowing everything already,” I tell her, smiling gently. “It’s being curious enough to figure things out. I’ve watched you these past few practices. You ask great questions. You notice details others miss. Those skills are incredibly valuable.”
She nods, a small smile forming. “Thanks, Miss Smart.”
I check my watch again—5:40. Time to go. I quickly address the whole group. “Great work today, everyone! You’re dismissed. See you next week.”
I pack up my things and make the short drive to the rink, arriving with two minutes to spare.
I lean against the railing, content to observe without announcing my presence just yet. Kade hasn’t noticed me, his focus entirely on Colton as he demonstrates a hockey stop, spraying ice as he cuts his blades sideways. His posture speaks of years of muscle memory—effortless grace that makes even the simplest movements look like art.
“Now you try,” I hear him instruct, his voice carrying across the ice. “Don’t be afraid to dig in. The ice can take it.”
After a few rocky attempts, Colton successfully cuts his skates sideways, actually managing to spray a small shower of ice, and comes to a much more definitive stop. His face breaks into a wide grin.
“That was awesome!” Kade exclaims, giving him a high-five. “See what happens when you trust your edges?”
Pride blooms in my chest as I watch. I can’t help but think of Brett and Katie—how proud they would be to see their son taking to the ice with such natural ability. Brett would’ve loved teaching Colton these skills himself. The thought arouses a familiar ache, but it’s tempered by gratitude that Colton has found his way to this sport anyway, that he’s found Kade to guide him.
Kade glances at his watch, then scans the rink. His eyes land on me, and his serious coaching expression melts into a warm smile that shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. He sayssomething to Colton, who turns to look my way and waves enthusiastically. I wave back, moving closer to the exit gate.
“Let’s cool down with one last lap,” Kade tells Colton, “and then we’ll call it a day.”
They circle the rink side by side. Kade is so naturally good with him, instinctively knowing when to push and when to encourage.
When they reach the gate, Colton’s face is flushed with equal parts exertion and joy. “Did you see me stop?” he asks breathlessly. “I did it just like Kade showed me!”
“I saw.” I smile and reach out to tousle his sweaty hair as he removes his helmet. “You looked like a real hockey player out there.”
“That’s because he is a real hockey player,” Kade says, stepping off the ice behind him. “And a darn good one at that.” He turns to Colton. “You’ve got natural talent, and more importantly, you work hard. That’s a winning combination.” Kade beams as he helps Colton to the bench, carrying his helmet and gloves. He kneels to help unlace the skates, talking quietly with Colton about what they’ll work on next time. There’s an ease to their interaction that simultaneously warms my heart and terrifies me.
Colton is getting attached—maybe too attached.
And if I’m being honest, so am I.
Kade approaches with Colton’s equipment bag slung over his shoulder. “He did great today,” he says, his voice low enoughthat Colton can’t overhear as he grabs a drink from the water fountain.
“That’s great! I wish I could’ve been here to see it, but duty calls.”
“Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with work and the robotics team,” he says, his amber eyes earnest. “I’d be happy to pick Colton up for lessons whenever needed. It’s no trouble at all. My schedule’s flexible on practice days.”
The offer is kind, practical, and would genuinely make my life easier. So why does accepting his help feel like crossing some invisible line I’ve drawn in my head?
“That’s really generous,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “but we’re managing okay with Valerie’s help.”
“Okay. Well, the offer stands,” Kade says simply, no pressure in his tone. “Just know it’s there if you need it.”
I nod, genuinely appreciative despite my hesitation. “Thank you, Kade.”
We say our goodbyes, and I manage to herd Colton toward the exit. Outside, the last light of day is fading from the sky as we make our way to the car. Colton climbs into the back seat, immediately buckling his seatbelt without being reminded—a small victory in the daily parenting battle.
I stow his equipment in the trunk, wincing slightly at the damp smell that’s already developing despite my best efforts to air everything out between practices. Another item for the weekend to-do list: figure out how to de-stink hockey gear.
We pull out of the parking lot, a comfortable silence settling over us as we both decompress from the day. Through the rearview mirror, I watch the lights of the ice rink recede, a strange melancholy washing over me as I think about Kade still in there.
“Hey, Ella?” Colton’s voice breaks the silence.
“Hmm?” I respond, eyes on the road as I navigate through early evening traffic.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
