Page 71 of Icy Pucking Play

"He...what?"

Julia snorts from the doorway. "Oh, this is good."

"I did not…" Evan starts.

"You did," his father cuts in. "Something about her being 'thorough' and 'detail-oriented’."

"That was simply a professional observation."

"Sure it was, son."

I bite back a smile, watching Evan's ears turn red.

"Anyway," Mrs. Daniels continues, "when Natalia started talking about the pretty lady teaching her math, I put two and two together."

"More math!" Natalia bounces in her seat. "See? It's everywhere!"

The conversation flows easily after that. Mrs. Daniels—"Call me Anna, dear"—tells stories about Evan's childhood hockey obsession. Mr. Daniels occasionally adds dry commentary that makes everyone laugh. Julia teases her brother mercilessly while Natalia demonstrates her new mathematical understanding of save percentages.

It's...perfect.

Too perfect?

The thought sneaks in as I watch them interact. This easy family dynamic, the way they include me like I belong...

"More wine?" Julia offers.

"Please." I hold out my glass. "The food is absolutely delicious, by the way."

"Mom's secret recipe," she says, then pauses. "Though not as secret as some of her other recipes. Chelsea used to beg for…"

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.

"Julia." Evan's voice could freeze water.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine." But he's already pulling away, his earlier warmth gone.

The next ten minutes as we all attempt to make conversation, I can feel him become more and more restless.

Finally, he says, "We should probably go. Early practice tomorrow."

"But Dad!" Natalia protests. "We haven't even had dessert! And Sophie was going to show Grandpa…"

"Another time."

I watch him retreat behind his walls, transforming back into the Ice Man right before my eyes.

"Evan…" his mother starts.

"It's fine." I force a smile. "He's right. Early practice."

The goodbyes are awkward, though Anna hugs me like she's apologizing for something. Julia looks miserable. Even Mr. Daniels seems concerned.

The drive to my apartment is silent.

"Cynthia's at her sister's," I say when we pull up to my building. "You want to come up?"

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