10. Lucy #2
"The one where you look like you're about to climb over the glass and fight somebody."
Naomi nodded thoughtfully.
"It is a very specific face."
"I do not have a face."
"You absolutely have a face."
Ty pushed himself off the ice before the referee had a chance to signal. The defenseman who'd hit him chirped something over his shoulder. Ty laughed, then stole the puck back less than ten seconds later and assisted on Northbend's third goal.
Coach pointed toward the bench as soon as the play was dead. "Burns!"
Ty coasted over wearing the unmistakable expression of someone who already knew he'd done something stupid.
Coach crossed his arms. "What'd I tell you about retaliating?"
"I didn't."
"You thought about it."
The student section dissolved into laughter again.
Even Coach's mouth twitched before he waved Ty back onto the ice.
The final horn echoed through the arena a few minutes later.
Three-two. Northbend.
Players poured off the bench, gloves smacking helmets, sticks raised, voices echoing beneath the steel rafters.
Ty found me one last time before disappearing through the tunnel.
Cold air slapped my cheeks the second we stepped outside, stealing the warmth I'd collected inside the arena almost instantly.
Fresh snow had started falling while we'd been inside, dusting the parking lot in a thin layer of white that crunched beneath our boots.
Fat flakes drifted lazily beneath the orange glow of the parking lot lights, settling across rows of pickup trucks and SUVs until every windshield looked dusted with powdered sugar.
The game might have been over, but the night wasn't.
Parents clustered around open tailgates and idling SUVs, waiting for their players to emerge.
Younger siblings launched snowballs at each other while exhausted moms yelled half-hearted warnings that nobody listened to.
Somewhere farther down the lot, someone had thrown open the doors of a pickup truck and country music spilled into the cold, blending with laughter, slamming car doors, and the muffled clatter of hockey bags hitting pavement.
The whole place whirred with the familiar energy that always followed a Northbend win.
"He's going to take forever," Arlo complained. "He always talks to everyone."
I smiled to myself without meaning to. "He likes people," I offered.
"He likes hearing himself talk."
Naomi bumped my shoulder with hers, nearly sloshing hot chocolate over the rim of her cup. "You like hearing him talk."
"I tolerate it."
She made a noncommittal humming noise that translated roughly to sure you do.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't quite hide my smile.
The arena doors swung open again.
A wave of laughter spilled into the parking lot before the players ever appeared, followed by a rush of warm air that disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
Ty emerged near the front of the group, hockey bag slung effortlessly over one shoulder, damp hair curling against his forehead. He wore a faded gray hoodie beneath his letterman jacket, looking flushed from the game in that loose, happy way that always seemed to follow a win.
Beside him, Mase balanced two sticks against one shoulder while trying unsuccessfully to defend himself. "I had a guy on me."
"You had the whole net."
"I had pressure."
"You had nerves."
"I had an idiot yelling at me."
"I was encouraging you."
Mase looked toward us. "You were being dramatic."
I laughed quietly under my breath.
They'd been arguing about that missed shot since they'd stepped off the ice, and neither of them seemed remotely interested in letting it go.
The conversation ended the second Ty noticed us. Or rather...the second he noticed me.
His entire face lit up. Like someone had reached inside him and turned every light on at once. "There she is." The words left his mouth before he'd even fully changed direction.
Without another thought, he broke away from the group entirely.
Mase barely looked surprised. He just shook his head, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Every time," and kept walking.
Ty closed the distance between us in long, easy strides, snow crunching beneath his boots. Halfway there, he let his hockey bag slide from his shoulder. It landed on the pavement with a heavy thud that sent a puff of fresh snow into the air.
He didn't even look at it. His attention never left me.
I barely had time to laugh before both of his arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me just enough that my heels skimmed the snowy pavement for half a heartbeat.
The world shrank instantly. The parking lot. The music. The conversations around us. Everything disappeared beneath the warmth of his embrace.
He kissed me. Quick. Warm. Still tasting faintly of wintergreen gum.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine for the briefest second, both of us laughing softly before either of us said a word. The tip of his nose was pink from the cold.
"So..." he said, smiling against my forehead. "Did you see that goal?"
I stared at him. "You mean the one where you tapped the glass afterward?"
His grin grew impossibly wider. "So you noticed."
"You made it a little difficult to miss."
"Worth it."
"Oh, gross," Arlo groaned loudly behind us. "You two are disgusting."
Ty looked over my shoulder without letting go of me. "You'll survive."
"I might not."
Ty laughed, the sound carrying easily through the cold night air, and finally loosened his hold just enough to sling one arm comfortably across my shoulders instead, pulling me against his side like it was the most natural place in the world for me to be.
Mase caught up a second later, shaking his head with the exhausted patience of someone who'd watched this exact interaction play out a hundred times before. "I miss one pass and this clown won't let me hear the end of it."
"You missed the net," I scoffed. "By inches."
"The whole net, Keller," Ty added, never breaking eye contact with me.
"The goalie was intimidating."
"He was fifteen," Arlo chimed in on the chirping.
"He had confident energy."
Naomi leaned toward me just enough that only I could hear her. "They really are toddlers."
I smiled.
Ty's head turned immediately. "What are we whispering about?"
"Nothing," I replied.
"I don't believe that."
"You shouldn't."
He gasped, pressing one hand to his chest as though I'd genuinely wounded him. "Betrayed."
"You'll recover."
"I don't know, Shortcake. This feels serious." He squeezed my shoulder with an exaggerated sigh before bending to scoop his hockey bag off the snowy pavement in one easy motion. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" Arlo asked.
Ty looked genuinely offended, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline as if my brother had asked the most ridiculous question imaginable. "We won."
"So?"
"So..." He blinked. "Matt's."
"As if there were another option," Mase agreed.
The five of us started across the parking lot toward Betsy, Ty's ancient pickup waiting beneath a fresh dusting of snow.
He reached for my hand without looking. Like he'd done it so many times he didn't have to think about it anymore.
My fingers slipped naturally between his. I looked down at our joined hands for only a second before looking back up at him.
At the boy who made freezing parking lots feel warm. At the boy who could spend three periods throwing himself around a sheet of ice, then smile at me like I was still the best part of his night.
I'd come because he asked me to. I'd sat through two and a half hours at the rink because it mattered to him.
And somewhere between warmups, impossible passes, one ridiculous glass tap, and the way he'd looked for me after every whistle—I realized I hadn't been counting down until it was over.
I'd been wishing there was another period.
Naomi fell into step beside me while the boys argued over who got shotgun in Betsy.
Arlo grumbled. "I hate all of you."
"I know," Ty called over his shoulder without missing a beat. "Love you too."
Arlo flipped him off.
Ty only laughed harder.
Naomi watched the entire exchange with the kind of amusement reserved for people observing animals at the zoo before she bumped my shoulder.
"So."
"So?"
"You didn't watch much hockey tonight."
"I watched the whole game."
"Mmm."
"I did."
"You watched one hockey player." She gave me a look. "The other ones just happened to be standing near your boyfriend."
I opened my mouth to argue. Nothing came out.
Naomi smiled like she'd just won something. "I knew it."
"You knew what?"
She hooked her arm through mine as we followed the boys across the snowy parking lot. "You care about the idiot playing hockey."
Ahead of us, Ty threw an arm around Mase's shoulders. Mase shoved him into a snowbank. Ty came up laughing. The kind that made his whole face light up.
Before climbing back onto the sidewalk, he looked over his shoulder.
Straight at me.
He smiled.
Then pointed dramatically at himself before shrugging as if to say, Did you see that?
I couldn't stop myself. I smiled back.
Beside me, Naomi made the most obnoxious, smug little sound I'd ever heard. "Oh."
I sighed. "Don't."
"Oh, it's bad."
"It's not bad."
"It's adorable."
"It's embarrassing." I laughed, bumping her shoulder hard enough that she stumbled a step before catching herself. "You're the worst."
"I know." She grinned. "But I'm right."
I didn't answer. Because twenty feet ahead of us, Ty reached backward without even looking. His hand found mine anyway. Like it always did.
Naomi saw it happen. She looked at our joined hands. Then at me. "You're absolutely cooked."
I laughed so hard I almost missed the curb as I stepped into the parking lot.
Maybe I was. Honestly...I couldn't think of a single reason to mind.