Chapter Sixty-Two
Cooper
The cold snaps at my cheeks as soon as we step inside, making me shiver. Lockie barely reacts, moving ahead of me like the tiny hockey players pose an actual security threat.
Grace is going to lose her mind when she meets him. I can practically hear her squeal already.
On the ice, kids bang sticks against the boards, coaches shout over the noise; the whole place is chaos in the best possible way. It's nothing like the arenas I’m used to. This place feels lived in.
“Up here,” I say, pointing toward the top row of the bleachers. It’s a habit, hiding at the back, out of sight.
Lockie takes point, gently nudging a couple of distracted dads aside with nothing more than his resting-death glare. I follow and tug my beanie lower. Not because anyone’s watching, but because part of me still expects they might be.
Halfway up the stairs, I turn, glancing over the rink, trying to find Declan. I grin, spotting him instantly. The ref’s jersey, whistle hanging around his neck. He cuts across the ice like he owns it, and something inside me just stops.
The last time I saw him out here, a few days ago, I was too caught up in my own shit, too focused on fixing the broken pieces between us to really take it in, to really see him.
Now I do. And all I can think about is the one time before that—the trainer helping him, the panic in Declan’s eyes, the way everything he’s worked for just vanished in an instant.
But he’s here, steady, sure, moving like the ice never stopped being his.
He looks good, really good, herding a cluster of kids who already move like tiny NHL hopefuls. Fast, fearless, with absolutely no idea what they’re doing. Smiling, he holds out his hand as they start to line up, giving them high-fives as they pass.
Lockie drops into the seat beside me, elbows braced on his knees. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, not taking my eyes off the ice. “Just watching.”
Which doesn’t even begin to cover it. Parents cheer for their kids, while I cheer for the ref. Seems fair.
He blows the whistle at a kid who accidentally bodychecks another, shaking his head and skating backward with a half-smile tugging at his mouth. When he glances up at the stands, I swear his gaze brushes right past me. My stomach flips like I’m seventeen all over again.
By the final buzzer, I still have no idea who actually won. Both teams swarm the ice, skating fast before belly flopping down, skidding across the surface in one loud, shrieking wave of limbs and laughter.
Lockie pushes to his feet, stretching the stiffness out of his shoulders.
I stay seated for another beat, watching the kids peel off the ice in every direction, searching for their parents.
Abby and Andrew step up to the boards at the same time Grace spots them, beelining straight for them and throwing herself against the boards with enough force to make them rattle.
“I scored two!”
Declan glides in behind her a moment later, pride written all over him. Grinning, I slowly make my way down the stairs, with Lockie hovering behind me. Grace’s face lights up the second she sees me, smiling so hard her face might crack.
She’s not that much different from the kid sitting in the bar.
But this version—flushed, confident, buzzing from skating—feels like someone I already know.
This one is just like Declan. The grin, the fire in her eyes, the way she lights up a whole damn room.
It’s like watching a tiny, unstoppable copy of him come to life.
“You came,” she shouts, then louder, because that volume appears to be her default setting. “Lockie came too!”
Lockie blinks slowly, like he’s unsure how to respond to the enthusiastic firecracker. She doesn’t care; she just points a gloved hand at him, turning to whoever’s closest.
“This is my bodyguard.”
“Hey,” I choke on a laugh. “He’s my bodyguard. Get your own.”
“I don’t think Grace has stopped talking about you since dinner the other night,” Andrew chuckles, taking his daughter’s things from Declan.
“Big mistake coming to one of her games,” Abby adds. “She’ll expect you at all of them now.”
Declan steps off the ice and tugs off his helmet. Sweat-slicked curls stick to his forehead, and something warm nudges under my ribs. He nods at me, guarded but not cold.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I echo, trying to sound chill.
Before either of us can say more, a tiny voice pipes up from behind me.
“…Reign Cooper?”
I turn, looking down at a kid still in full gear, jersey crooked on her shoulder, stick tucked under her arm, mouth gaped open like she’s just seen Santa and Beyonce at the same time.
Grace lets out an excited gasp, hopping down from the boards and bounding over. “Told you he was coming to my game.”
A handful of kids group around us, wide-eyed. “Can we get a picture?”
Glancing at Declan, he gives me a look, equal parts surprised and amused. Shrugging, I grin. “Yeah, of course.”
We end up on the ice, coaches corralling kids into a messy semi-circle. Grace drags me into the middle, clinging to my side like I’m her personal trophy. Lockie stands behind the boards next to Declan, arms cross, enjoyment only I can see on his stoic face.
“We should hang this in the lobby,” a parent says, snapping the picture.
“Great idea,” another agrees as we climb off the ice.
“Told you I’d get something of mine up here one day,” I tease, leaning close to Declan.
His lips twitch in an almost smile, his gaze sliding toward the back where his jersey still hangs. “You’re insufferable.”
It’s barely anything, a ghost of the guy he used to be, but it’s the first time he’s let himself be even a little bit playful with me.
It’s not much. But I’ll sure as hell take it.
His shoulder brushes mine—accidentally, probably—but my pulse still jumps.
As the kids scatter, I steal a glance at him. “First time I’ve been asked for a picture since I got back.”
It’s weird, but kind of…nice. I’m used to crowds and chaos, phones shoved in my face, people wanting bits of Reign Cooper. Here, one photo’s enough.
Declan snorts. “I’m shocked it took this long.”
“Everyone’s been respectful,” I say. “A few people said hi at The Lost Compass, asked how I was doing. Most wait until I’m done eating or walking in or out. Guess small towns are good like that. Everyone knew you before you became famous.”
“Yeah. They are,” Declan hums, thoughtful.
For a moment, we stare at each other, caught up in this thing, neither of us knowing what to do. Grace barrels back over, grabbing at my hand and tugging.
“Did you see me score? I scored twice.”
“Grace,” Declan says, exasperated. “Chill.”
She doesn’t stop. “Are you coming back next week? You have to. Lockie too.”
Declan lets out a long sigh, lips pursing. “If he’s not too busy.”
I try to swallow my smile. “I think I can make time.”
Grace cheers loud enough to shake the rafters, and Declan smiles. Really smiles. And it hits me like fresh ice, freezing everything else out.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m getting somewhere. And this time, I’m not letting go.