24. Thane
TWENTY-FOUR
THANE
The drive back to Seattle felt different than the drive to Juniper Hollow.
On Christmas Eve, everything had been anticipation. We hadn't known what we were walking into. We were heading toward a town neither of us had ever visited, carrying little more than an overnight bag and the hope that getting away for a few days might be enough.
Now we were heading home.
The SUV hummed steadily beneath us as the miles slipped by.
Snow-covered evergreens lined portions of the highway, and every now and then we passed through one of the small towns scattered between our two destinations.
Christmas decorations still hung from storefronts and lamp posts, but most of the holiday crowds had disappeared.
Beside me, Kieran slept. He'd lasted less than an hour before dozing off.
I glanced over briefly before returning my attention to the road. His head rested against the seat; his expression relaxed in a way I rarely saw when he was awake. The past few days had been full. The tree farm. The skating rink. The senior care facility. Cedar Ridge. A smile tugged at my mouth.
The man was a dream come true.
By mutual agreement, we'd spent most of the trip with our phones powered down. I'd called my parents each evening to check in, then turned mine off again. As long as the people who mattered were okay, everything else could wait until we got back.
A couple of hours into the drive, I pulled into a service station for coffee and fuel. Kieran slept through the entire thing. He slept for about another twenty minutes before his eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, he looked disoriented.
He raised his head slightly, then his gaze landed on me. "How long was I asleep?"
"Long enough to miss a coffee stop."
His eyebrows shot up. "You stopped for coffee?"
I laughed. "Yeah."
"Without waking me?"
"Yeah. You looked comfortable."
His head dropped back against the seat. "I can't decide if that's sweet or a betrayal."
"Take your time."
"Urrgghh!" A smile tugged at his mouth.
I felt one answering it before I could stop myself. "Look in the back seat."
'Why?" He eyed me suspiciously before twisting around in his seat. There sat an insulated carrier holding two coffees. Beside it was a paper bag containing two sandwiches we'd probably end up eating somewhere outside Seattle.
He reached for the coffee immediately, before swivelling back around. "You got me coffee."
"I got you coffee."
"And food."
"I got you food too."
He looked entirely too pleased about that. The sight made something warm settle in my chest.
"You were really going to let me suffer for a minute, weren't you?"
"Absolutely."
"Cruel."
I laughed. "Drink your coffee, Kier." The nickname slipped out impulsively.
His hand paused briefly around the cup. Then he looked over at me. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Kier?"
I kept my attention on the road. "You hate it?"
"No, I don't hate it." I could hear the smile in his voice. I was relieved. I glanced over at him quickly. The smile was still there when he took a sip of coffee.
The conversation drifted after that. We talked about Beverly and Mrs. Thompson. Kieran remained convinced Beverly was running some sort of underground matchmaking operation.
As we neared Seattle, I switched on my phone. The first notification appeared almost immediately. And another. Then three more.
I should have known better. Three days of ignoring the outside world had apparently created a backlog.
Kieran glanced toward the phone when it lit up again. "That seems excessive."
"That's because you're looking at it from the outside."
"And from the inside?"
I sighed. "Unfortunately, normal."
By the time we crossed into Seattle proper, I'd accumulated messages from coaches, management, media staff, and at least three teammates. We'd barely made it back, and already the season was pulling me in another direction.
For years, this part of my life had felt routine. Practice. Meetings. Flights. Hotels. Games. Repeat. Today was the first time I could remember wishing the season would slow down long enough for me to catch my breath.
As we got closer to Kieran's apartment, neither of us mentioned the fact that we'd be going in different directions within the next hour. Instead, the conversation settled on practical things.
"When do you leave?" he asked.
I checked the time on the dashboard. "Practice starts at two. Team meeting after that. Flight leaves around six."
His eyebrows lifted. "So basically immediately."
"Pretty much."
He nodded and took another sip of his coffee. "And you'll be back when?"
"Late on the twenty-ninth if everything goes according to plan. Early on the thirtieth, if there are delays."
"You're assuming there won't be overtime."
I laughed. "Fair point."
"Or that your flight gets in on time."
"Now you're just trying to curse us." A smile tugged at my mouth.
The conversation should have felt ordinary. Instead, it felt strangely important.
"You'll watch the games?" I asked.
He looked at me like I'd asked whether he intended to keep breathing. "Of course I'll watch the games."
"They start late."
"So?"
I shook my head. A few minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot outside his apartment building. The engine idled. Neither of us reached for the door. For a moment, the only sound came from the heater humming softly through the vents.
"I guess this is where I tell you to win all of your games
I turned toward him. "That would be appreciated."
"I mean it."
His expression was serious enough to make me laugh. "I'll see what I can do."
"You better." The smile that followed softened the words.
I reached across the center console and slid my hand along the side of his neck.
He leaned into the touch immediately. The simple trust left me breathless.
I brushed my thumb along his jaw and kissed him.
The kind of kiss that made me aware of exactly how little time we'd had and how quickly I'd become accustomed to having him around.
When I finally pulled back, neither of us moved very far. His forehead rested briefly against mine.
"Text me when you land," he said.
"I will."
"And after the game."
"Kier."
"I'm serious."
I laughed softly. "So am I."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Good."
He stole one last kiss before reaching for the door.
A minute later I watched him disappear into the building. Only then did I put the SUV into gear and pull back into traffic.
The familiar scent of ice, rubber, and equipment hit me the moment I walked into the practice facility.
Players drifted through the locker room carrying gear bags and coffee cups. A few Christmas greetings were exchanged. Someone complained about holiday traffic. Someone else was already arguing about fantasy football.
For all of us, the break was over.
Practice itself wasn't particularly demanding.
The coaches knew we'd spent the past few days away from the rink. The focus was more on getting everyone moving again, reviewing systems, and preparing for the road trip than running us into the ground.
By the time we finished, most of the team headed toward one of the meeting rooms while trainers moved through the locker room checking on lingering injuries and post-holiday aches.
I was grabbing a bottle of water when Tannen dropped onto the bench beside me. He didn't say anything immediately. Neither did I. After years of friendship, silence wasn't unusual between us.
Finally, he nudged my shoulder. "So?"
I laughed. "So what?"
He gave me a look. "You're really going to make me work for it?"
I twisted the cap off the water bottle. "You’ll survive."
Tannen snorted. "Good trip?"
"Yeah, it was."
Something in my voice must have given me away because Tannen's expression softened.
"That good, huh?"
"Better than good."
"I'm glad." The sincerity in his voice wasn't surprising.
"How was your Christmas?" I asked.
He leaned back against the lockers. "Quiet."
That single word told me more than a paragraph would have. Tannen's family was in Winterhaven. Normally, he made it home whenever the schedule allowed. This year hadn't worked out that way.
"Spent most of it here?"
He nodded. "Watched a couple of movies. Ordered takeout. Tried not to think about everybody else posting family photos." A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "I'll make it home next year."
I studied him for a second. "You know it's going to turn around."
His gaze shifted toward me. "That's your assistant captain’s pep talk?"
"No." I took a drink of water. "That's your best friend telling you you're still one of the best centers in the league."
Tannen rolled his eyes. "I hate when you're supportive."
"You'll survive."
"Unfortunately." The corner of his mouth lifted.
A few minutes later, the coaching staff called everyone into the meeting room. The next thirty minutes were exactly what I'd expected. Video review. Systems. Scouting reports. Travel logistics. Two games in Los Angeles. Then back to Seattle.
By the time we boarded the team bus for the airport later that afternoon, the season had settled back onto my shoulders. For years, I'd moved through that rhythm without thinking about it. It was simply my life. This time felt different. It wasn't because the routine had changed, but because I had.
I got comfortable in my seat on the charter and pulled out my phone while the rest of the team found theirs. Conversations drifted through the cabin. Somebody two rows back was already arguing about where we should order dinner after we landed.
My thumb found Kieran's name. I stared at the screen for a second before typing.
Me: Boarding. See you in a couple of days, Kier.
The reply appeared almost immediately.
Kier: Already miss you.
I found myself smiling because I'd been thinking the exact same thing since we'd left his apartment.
Me: Miss you too.
I switched off my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. Outside the window, the runway lights stretched into the distance. Ahead of me was another set of games, but for the first time, home wasn't the only thing waiting for me when I got back.