Page 49 of Ice Melts

Sarah, catching her breath, considered. “Terms?”

“I get to come over to your fort without being ambushed.”

She pretended to think about it, then sighed. “Fine. But no funny business.”

Travis approached, brushing snow from his sleeves. He plopped down next to her, their backs resting against the snowy wall, their breath coming in white puffs.

“That was fun,” Sarah said after a moment, still catching her breath.

Travis chuckled. “Told you.”

A comfortable silence settled over them. Snowflakes floated gently from the sky, clinging to their hats and eyelashes. Sarah tilted her head back, watching them fall.

“I love this,” she admitted. “Being out here. The quiet. Just… this.”

Travis was quiet for a beat before he spoke. “Me too. Always have.”

She turned to look at him. “Is that why you never left the Midwest?”

He exhaled, watching his breath disappear into the cold air. “Part of it, yeah. I had offers from teams on the coast, bigger cities. But I always felt like I belonged here. Like I’d be giving up a piece of myself if I left.”

Sarah nodded. “I get that. This is so us.”

“How about you?” she asked softly. “You won your Stanley Cup. Now what?”

Travis hesitated. “I think… I think I’m starting to see hockey differently. It’s not just about winning anymore. It’s about who I win with. What kind of team we build.”

She studied him. “You’ve changed.”

He smiled slightly. “You think so?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I like it.”

Travis exhaled a laugh. “Well, so have you.”

She grinned. “Maybe we’re growing up.”

He smirked. “Speak for yourself.”

She laughed, shoving him lightly before standing. “Alright, snowman time.”

Their snowman-building efforts were… questionable at best.

Sarah tried to make a symmetrical structure, but Travis kept adding ridiculous features—a lopsided carrot nose, mismatched rock eyes, and a twig mustache.

“Are you *sure* you play sports professionally?” she teased. “Because your balance is terrible.”

He wiped his forehead dramatically. “Listen, snow-sculpting wasn’t part of my contract.”

They doubled over laughing, and when they finally stepped back, the snowman looked utterly ridiculous. No part of it was even round.

But somehow, it was perfect.

After taking a few pictures, they trudged out onto the frozen lake, visiting the scattered ice fishing huts that dotted the shoreline. Some were empty, but a few local fishermen waved them over, offering warm drinks and stories of “the one that got away.”

Travis and Sarah stood side by side, looking down at a hole cut into the thick ice, watching as the line disappeared into the dark water below.

“Have we ever caught anything ice fishing?” Travis asked.

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