Page 30 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

He reluctantly pulled his arms from around her, missing her warmth immediately. Instead, he took her hand, turning her gently so she faced him, their eyes locking. He wanted to say something, something profound, something that would make herstay, but instead, he settled for a soft smile. “We’re going out, the simplest of ‘outs,’ so I don’t have to walk, and you don’t have to change, and we can be ourselves… together.”

She studied him, her expression shifting from hesitation to something deeper—something that made his pulse quicken. Then, with quiet concern, she asked, “Are you hurting?”

He should have lied. Should have shrugged it off. But this washer, and she deserved the truth. “I’m stiff from doing butterflies all day and getting smacked with a puck here and there,” he admitted.

Her frown was immediate, her brows drawing together. “What? What exactly is a butterfly?” she asked, her curiosity evident.

His lips twitched, and he reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon, and I’ll tell you on the way…”

And just like that, something inside him felt lighter.

An hour later, the car was filled with the sound of their laughter, echoing through the small space as they clutched their sundaes, half-melted but barely touched. The glow of the streetlights flickered through the windshield, illuminating the lingering tears of amusement streaking down their faces.

Matthieu couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard, this freely—like a shadow had been lifted from his soul, even if just for a moment.

“You should have seen their faces…” she gasped between breaths, her laughter still bubbling up uncontrollably.

“I bet,” he managed, his grin wide and unguarded.

“I skate with penguins, huh?”

“And steal nectar from butterflies,” she added, smiling.

“Evil things…” his tone mock-serious.

Their laughter crashed over them again, wild and uninhibited, rolling through the confined space like waves breaking against the shore.

Matthieu let himself soak it in—the sound of her joy, the light in her eyes, the sheerrightnessof this moment. It was nothing extravagant, just two people sitting in a car, their frozen treats forgotten, sharing in something that felt both simple and profound. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t drowning in expectations or pressure.

This wasnice.

Not just nice—needed.

“I felt like the biggest idiot,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, the laughter fading into something softer, more vulnerable.

He studied her in the dim light, the way her gaze flickered down for a second like she wasn’t sure she should say it out loud. He understood that hesitation all too well.

“I did earlier tonight,” he confessed, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them. He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers—a simple touch, but one that sent something unspoken crackling between them. “I never meant to hurt you, but I honestly forgot about our plans. I wasn’t thinking about anything except getting home, getting out of these clothes, and soaking in a bath to rest before the game tomorrow.” He exhaled, shaking his head at himself. “That doesn’t excuse it, though.”

Her fingers twitched under his, but she didn’t pull away.

“We didn’t have to do this,” she murmured, her voice unsure, as if she was giving him an out.

“But in the pecking order of priorities, you come first,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. “And Ihateit when I’m the reason you’re no longer smiling or happy. That’s why I wanted to be here. That’s why I wanted to fix it. You mean a lot to me—even if this feels strange, or weird, or like we’re fumbling our way through this friendship, this relationship…”

His voice trailed off when he saw it—that shy, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. The kind of smile that made something deep inside him clench, like he’d somehow gotten somethingrightfor once.

“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered. “It means a lot to me.”

“Your happiness means a lot to me, too,” he admitted. “Even if I don’t always know how to make you happy, Iwantthe chance to try.”

She bit her lip, studying him for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, almost teasing. “You know I know nothing about hockey…”

He huffed out a laugh. “But you’ll be at the game, cheering me on?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

“You might learn something.”

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