Page 11 of Icy Pucking Play

I did not know that. Nor do I fucking care.

"Also," Julia continues, following me as I stalk toward the kitchen, "did you know she has three younger siblings? And that she put herself through college by working with youth hockey? Or that she…"

"Stop." I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "Just...stop. I don't need her life story."

"No, what you need is to stop being a stubborn ass and…"

We round the corner into the kitchen, and the words die in my throat.

Sophie's sitting at the counter, still wearing that oversized Blades hoodie, her dark, silky hair pulled up in a messy bun.She's bent over a worksheet with Natalia, pointing at something with a pencil while my daughter nods seriously.

"So, if you think about it like a hockey score," Sophie's saying, "it makes more sense. If you have three goals in the first period and multiply that by two periods..."

"Six goals total!" Natalia's face lights up. "Oh! And if you divide those six goals between two teams..."

"Each team scores..."

"Three goals each!" Natalia pumps her fist. "I get it now!"

"See? Math is just sports with extra numbers." Sophie high-fives her, then freezes as she spots us in the doorway.

For a moment, no one moves.

Then Natalia breaks the silence. "Dad! Sophie's helping me with my multiplication! Did you know she knows how to explain everything using hockey?"

"Does she now?" I manage to sound normal, though the tightness in my chest makes it difficult.

"Uh-huh! Can she help me with homework more often? Please?"

Sophie starts gathering her things, cheeks pink. "Actually, I should get going. I have to transcribe my notes from earlier and…"

"Nonsense," Julia cuts in. "Stay for dinner. We're having lasagna, and I always make too much."

"Oh, I couldn't…"

"Please?" Natalia turns those deadly puppy eyes on her. "You haven't even seen my new hockey cards yet!"

I watch Sophie's resolve crumble in real time. "I...maybe just for a little while?"

"Perfect!" Julia claps her hands. "Evan, why don't you help me in the kitchen while the girls finish up here?"

I know my sister well enough to know that this is not a request. I follow my sister to the other side of the kitchen, though not farenough that I can't hear Natalia chattering away about her card collection.

"Before you start," Julia says quietly, pulling ingredients from the fridge, "just listen."

"Jules…"

"No, really listen." She turns to face me, all traces of teasing gone. "That girl in there? She spent an hour explaining why she wants to do this feature. Not for clicks, not for scandal, but because she genuinely believes Ryland's story could inspire other kids. She wants to show how having a supportive family can make all the difference in an athlete's development."

"And you believe her?"

"Yes." Julia starts chopping onions with perhaps more force than necessary. "Because unlike some people, I actually gave her a chance to explain herself."

"I gave her a chance," I protest. "This morning, when she…"

"When she what? Accidentally spilled coffee on you? Yeah, Ryland told me about that. And about how you practically accused her of being a vulture."

Put like that, it does sound bad.

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