Page 118 of Icy Pucking Play

"All of us." He meets my eyes. "Me especially."

"Evan..."

"You don't have to answer now," he says quickly. "I know it's a big step. And with training camp starting next week…"

"Yes."

"…we could wait until...wait, what?"

"Yes." I set down the popcorn. "Yes to moving in. Yes to making this official. Yes to…"

He kisses me, soft and sure and full of promise.

"Well," comes a small voice from the doorway, "finally."

We break apart to find Natalia standing there in her hockey pajamas, grinning like she just scored a game-winner.

"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" Evan asks.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching a scary movie?" She bounces over to squeeze between us. "Instead of being all mushy?"

"We weren't being mushy," I protest.

"Please. Dad was giving you his soft look."

"My what?"

"Your soft look." She pats his cheek. "The one you only give Sophie and me. Aunt Julia says it means you're being a teddy bear instead of the Ice Man."

"I am not a teddy bear. Ever…" he fake growls. Natalia and I laugh hysterically because we both know. We know how sweet and wonderful he is when he’s not busy being the big, bad Ice Man.

And maybe that's the real story here.

Not how an Ice Man learned to melt.

Not how a reporter found her heart's headline.

Not even how a family came together through hockey and heart and hope.

But how love writes its own story. And how the people you choose to surround yourself with know you so well and still love you for it.

"So," Natalia says after a moment, "since Sophie is moving in can we have family ice cream night every night?"

"Absolutely not," Evan says firmly.

"Absolutely yes," I counter.

"We'll discuss it," he compromises, but he's wearing that soft look again.

The one that means he's happy.

The one that means he's home.

The one that means he's finally, finally letting himself have everything.

And maybe that's the best story of all.

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