Page 52 of Cold as (N)ice

The other players smiled at her, some nodding in quiet approval, a few waving before drifting back onto the ice. They let Stephen take a shot, exaggerating their efforts to "defend" while clearly letting the boy win. When the puck slid past Lafreniere and into the net, the goalie pretended he hadn’t even seen the puck. Irene caught the knowing smirk he shot her way.

Lafreniere. Another player from the Coyotes who had taken a marriage contract for the team. A man who, despite the circumstances, seemed at peace with the weight of the decision.

A warm, steady hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned, her gaze meeting the deep-set, weathered eyes of a man with a rugged, Southern drawl that immediately tugged at something deep in her chest. He sounded like home with that accent and recognized his name as well.

“Keith Boucher,” he introduced himself. “Are you coming Saturday to the get-together?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically, caught slightly off guard. “Were you on the Coyotes?” she asked, remembering what little she knew about the team’s past.

“Yeah. I was the captain,” he confirmed, his voice even, though there was something in it—a weight, a memory perhaps—that lingered between them.

She hesitated before asking, “Are you going to be captain here someday too?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, just an innocent attempt to understand the dynamic at play. But the moment the words left her mouth, she saw the shift in his expression. His face hardened, his jaw flexing slightly as his gaze drifted toward the ice, where the other men skated with easy camaraderie.

“Soon, but not yet,” he murmured, and without another word, he stepped away, leaving her standing there, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck.

Irene swallowed, glancing down at her hands, suddenly regretting speaking at all. She hadn’t meant to put her foot in her mouth—it had just slipped out, the way words often did when she wasn’t guarded. Yet another mistake, another problem, making her mind flick back to her biggest problem right now – Eric.

Her eyes flickered back to the ice, drawn as if by instinct to Stephen, her little boy, whose laughter rang through the arena like the sweetest music. His cheeks were flushed, his entire body alight with the sheer joy of the moment, and the sight of it made her heart clench with something dangerously close to tears.

None of this was wrong.

None of this was bad for her son.

And yet, how could she explain that to Eric when he refused to listen? She knew there was no explanation needed from him – he’d refused his own son, gave him away, but still, a part of her needed to settle it in her soul… once and for good. How could she put into words the pure, unfiltered happiness radiating from Stephen, the way he belonged here, as if he had always been meant to be part of this world?

I have to figure this out somehow, she told herself, sinking carefully onto a bench near the penalty box, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves. She watched, unmoving, as the team gathered around Stephen, effortlessly pulling him into their orbit as if he were one of their own. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just easy acceptance, the kind she had always wanted for him.

Then she saw it.

A tiny jersey.

Stephen’s very own jersey.

Her breath caught in her throat as he slipped it on, his tiny hands smoothing the fabric with awe. Across his back, stitched in bold letters, wasCOEUR. Her eyes stung, and she swallowedhard, pressing her lips together to keep the flood of emotion at bay. Barrett had mentioned something about jerseys, but hearing it and seeing it were two very different things.

This was real. This wastangible. And Stephen—her sweet, precious boy—looked up at his hero as if he had just been handed the world.

Her chest ached as her gaze flickered to Barrett. He stood on the ice, his skates firmly planted, his strong frame radiating warmth even from a distance. And then, as if he could feel the pull of her stare, he turned.

He smiled.

A slow, easy smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

And in that single moment, everything else faded—the doubts, the fears, the ghosts of the past. There was no need for words, no need to explain the unspoken certainty settling deep within her bones. She raised a hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she waved back, her heart swelling to a size she hadn't known it could reach. She blew him a kiss… and bless him, he caught it with a playful wink.

I love you, she thought, the words forming as naturally as a breath, as inevitable as the beating of her heart.

15

COEUR

SeeingIrene and Stephen at the rink had been the most incredible thing ever – and knowing she was there for him?

The best.

One of the guys recommended this place for dinner, and Barrett would have to thank him on Saturday, because it was amazing. They had anime stuff all over the walls, chopsticks with tiny plastic connectors at the top that helped Stephen use them, and offered a variety of cooked stir-fry for Irene since she was pregnant. The raw fish of sushi could be bad for the baby, and he would accommodate her however he could while still making this outing ‘fun’ for everyone.

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