Chapter 16 #2
She was dressed casually in jeans and a crewneck sweatshirt. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that had already started to fall apart. There was a warmth to her, though, something open and a little overwhelmed in the way she smiled at us.
Noise spilled out behind her—high-pitched laughter and the thud of feet against hardwood—the unmistakable chaos of a dozen kids existing in the same space.
“Thanks for inviting us,” I said, stepping inside. I gestured slightly behind me. “I hope it’s okay—I brought a friend.”
Erin’s eyes shifted past me and widened in a way that wasn’t remotely subtle.
“My goodness.”
She stared for a long moment, clearly recalibrating in real time, before she turned over her shoulder.
“Charlotte, honey,” she called, voice lifting over the noise. “There’s someone here for you.”
The response was immediate—quick footsteps, a smaller figure weaving through a cluster of kids before coming to an abrupt stop a few feet away from the door.
I had only seen Charlotte from afar—across the rink or with a helmet on, swallowed up in hockey pads that made her look smaller than she already was. Up close, she looked even younger.
She was thin, all limbs and angles, with long blonde hair that had been carefully brushed and parted down the middle. She wore a pale blue dress that flared slightly at the waist, paired with white leggings that were already smudged at the knees from a day of running around.
Charlotte looked up at Dani and froze.
“You—you’re …” Her words tangled together.
Dani smiled warmly. “Happy Birthday, Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s face lit up, disbelief melting into something bright and electric as she took a step forward, and then another, like she wasn’t entirely convinced this was real.
A knot formed in my throat as I watched the exchange.
Beside me, Erin made a small sound, like she’d been holding back similar emotions. Her hand found my elbow and she squeezed gently.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. Her eyes looked glassy, emotion sitting just beneath the surface. “This means more than you know.”
I swallowed and nodded once, not trusting myself to say much more without getting choked up.
Erin stepped back and ushered us inside.
The warmth of the home chased away the last of the cold as I shrugged out of my jacket.
The house smelled faintly like frosting, an undercurrent of something sugary clung in the air.
Streamers were taped to the ceiling, and a banner with Charlotte’s name stretched over the archway to the living room.
“You’ve got a full house,” I observed, glancing around as a kid darted past us at full speed.
Erin laughed, the sound tired but fond. “Birthday parties tend to turn into invite-the-entire-classroom situations. I’m already bracing myself for the first sleepover.”
“I don’t envy you that,” I quipped.
Charlotte hadn’t taken her eyes off Dani, hovering close enough that it was clear she wanted to say something but hadn’t quite figured out how.
Erin touched my arm lightly, pulling my attention back. “Come on,” she said, nodding toward the kitchen. “I can give you a few minutes before everything gets louder.”
I followed her through a narrow hallway that opened into a small kitchen, quieter than the living room but not by much. The noise carried—laughter bleeding through the walls, the occasional shriek of excitement.
Erin poured coffee into two mismatched mugs without asking, sliding one across the counter toward me before leaning back against it herself.
“Sorry this is so chaotic,” she said, glancing toward the doorway like she was mentally tracking at least three different things at once. “It’s probably not how you do these kinds of things.”
“This is nothing,” I assured her, wrapping my hands around the mug, letting the warmth sink into my fingers. “You should see me trying to interview players in the locker room after they’ve just won a championship. At least here I’m not dodging champagne getting sprayed on me.”
She smiled, a little softer this time.
“So, where do you want to begin?” she asked.
I took a small sip of the coffee, letting the question settle instead of jumping straight in.
From where we stood, I had a clear sightline into the living room.
Dani had been absorbed into the orbit of the kids with surprising ease.
One minute she was standing against a wall, observing everything, and the next she was crouched in the middle of a loose circle in what resembled a chaotic version of duck, duck, goose.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, dragging my attention back to her.
Erin didn’t seem to notice my distraction. Or if she did, she was kind enough not to call it out.
“Has Charlotte experienced any pushback?” I asked.
“Not directly. Not yet. She plays on a co-ed team right now,” she said, glancing briefly toward the living room where Charlotte was now animatedly explaining something to Dani.
“But it won’t always be that way. You see what’s happening in other states,” she added.
“Laws getting passed, kids getting banned from playing or the opposing team refusing to compete against them.”
Her fingers tightened around her mug.
“And the thing is …” She shook her head, like she was searching for the words. “There are so few of them—kids like Charlotte. It’s not like this is some widespread problem people need protection from. But it gets talked about like it is.”
I didn’t interrupt.
“It doesn’t feel like it’s about sports,” she said quietly. “It feels like people decided this was an issue before they ever actually met a kid like her.”
There was a shift in her tone.
“I don’t have any illusions about where this goes,” she continued.
“It’s not like I’m expecting her to become some hockey superstar or get an athletic scholarship or anything like that.
The NCAA doesn’t even allow trans athletes to compete, and beyond that, the pipeline to the pros just isn’t there. Not the way it is for boys.”
I nodded, jotting down notes. “College is the main pathway to the pros for women’s hockey,” I said, more to keep the conversation moving than because I needed the clarification.
“Exactly. And if that’s not an option …” She let the sentence trail off, her shoulders lifting slightly in a small, helpless gesture. “We just want her to have as much time as she can. To play with her friends. To feel like she belongs out there.”
The front door opened before I could respond. A gust of cold air cut briefly through the warmth as a man stepped inside, arms stacked high with pizza boxes.
“Who wants pizza!” he announced, kicking the door shut behind him.
The kids noticed immediately. A chorus of cheers went up, the game abandoned in an instant as they swarmed toward the kitchen.
Dani stood, laughing as she was nearly bowled over in the process. She made her way over, stopping just beside me as Erin’s husband set the boxes down.
“You must be Reese,” he said, extending a hand once he’d freed one. “I’m Jeff, Charlotte’s dad.”
His eyes surveyed the room as we shook hands. I could feel it in his grip the moment his gaze fell on Dani.
“Holy shit,” he blurted out.
I heard Dani’s chuckle. “I get that a lot.”
The room settled into a new kind of chaos—plates being passed around, kids talking over one another, grease-smudged fingers reaching for paper napkins that would never quite do the job. I stepped back, letting the scene unfold, and felt Dani nudge closer beside me.
Our shoulders brushed.
This time, neither of us moved away.
Her hand found mine—brief, almost absentminded. Her fingers curled lightly against my palm like she was testing the shape of it.
My breath caught, just for a second. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t trust myself to.
By the time I even considered reacting, she had already let go, her attention shifting as Charlotte called her name from across the room.
It was nothing, but it didn’t feel like nothing.
Eventually, it was time for presents.
The kids gathered in the living room, pizza-stained paper plates abandoned in favor of anticipation. Charlotte settled in the center of the room, cross-legged and practically vibrating with excitement as Erin handed her the first gift.
She tore into it quickly—bright paper ripping apart—before stopping abruptly.
“No way!”
She pulled the rest of the paper away more carefully, revealing the hockey stick beneath it and Dani’s signature scrawled along the shaft.
Charlotte’s head jerked up and she looked at Dani. Her expression was somewhere between disbelief and awe.
“Do you like it?” Dani asked.
Charlotte nodded, quick and emphatic, like words weren’t enough to cover it.
“I love it!”
I felt Dani shift beside me so our shoulders and hips pressed together again. It was an intimate but hidden gesture, like when we’d first started dating in college and didn’t want the world to know.
“Still think I didn’t need the wrapping paper?” she murmured, low enough for only me to hear.
I glanced at her and then back to Charlotte, who was carefully tracing the autograph with her fingertips like she needed to memorize it.
I let myself lean back into Dani’s warm, solid frame. “I can admit when I’m wrong.”