Chapter 12 Iris
IRIS
The tickets sat on my kitchen counter for three days, the corner worn from where I rubbed it absently each time I passed by. Such a simple thing, Collin had made it seem that way, at least, catching me in the parking lot after practice with an easy smile and three crisp pieces of cardstock.
“Bring Jamie,” he’d said, brown eyes holding mine a beat longer than necessary.
“And someone else... if you want.” Now I’m here, fingers curling around the sleeve of his jersey.
The replica shop clerk smiled when I’d asked for number twenty-three, and I’d felt myself flush then just as I’m flushing now, like some lovestruck teenager wearing her boyfriend’s letterman jacket to homecoming.
The feeling follows me as I settle into my seat, embarrassed and somewhat proud. Proud of what I wasn’t sure.
The hard plastic seat creaks as I shift, and Ellie bumps her shoulder against mine, the gesture so achingly familiar it makes my throat tight.
We met sophomore year of college, colliding outside the campus coffee shop in a spectacular disaster involving her triple-shot vanilla latte.
Instead of getting angry, she’d looked at our matching stained shirts and declared us “coffee twins.” That was Ellie, turning bad into good, always.
Until Owen started chipping away at our friendship.
It was subtle at first. A comment here about how much time I spent with her, a heavy sigh there when I’d mention plans we’d made.
Then came the guilt trips, the carefully timed crises that required my attention whenever I was supposed to meet her.
The fights that would erupt after I’d spent time with her, always somehow my fault for neglecting our marriage, for not prioritizing our family.
Eventually, it was easier to stop trying, to let the distance grow until even the thought of reaching out felt impossible.
But Ellie was there the moment I left him, no questions asked, like those years of distance never existed.
“So,” Ellie draws out the word with a familiar playfulness, “are we going to talk about how you’re wearing his jersey?” I smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the fabric, avoiding her gaze.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“The color in your cheeks suggests otherwise.” I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting a smile as I lean over to brush popcorn kernels from Jamie’s lap. He’s in his own world, humming contentedly as he digs through his snack box.
“You’re reading way too much into this.”
“Uh huh, suuuure.” Ellie’s drawl is thick with amusement.
“That’s why you’re the exact shade of a stop sign right now.
” I’m saved from responding when the team files onto the ice, their skates cutting fresh lines into the pristine surface.
The Ice Hawks’ teal and white jerseys blur into streaks of color as they take their warm-up laps, and despite my best efforts, my eyes find number twenty-three immediately.
From our seats right against the plexiglass, I can see the intensity etched across Collin’s features.
The sharp line of his jaw flexed tight, those warm brown eyes are focused as he moves across the ice in a series of drills, moving faster than I’ve ever seen him.
The players gradually slow their pace, spreading out across the ice, and that’s when the real show begins.
It starts innocently enough—shoulders rolling, necks tilting side to side.
Then they drop down onto the ice, in a way that makes me suddenly very interested in my phone.
The movements are necessary, I know this, but watching Collin’s hips roll in slow, controlled motions does something to me.
I peek over the edge of the my phone and catch Ellie, jaw-dropped and shamelessly staring.
She laughs loudly, throwing her head back and clapping like she can’t believe her eyes.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, leaning close so Jamie won’t hear. “Who put an ice rink in this Chippendales?” Ellie and I unconsciously tilt our heads in unison, mesmerized by the display of athleticism (and other talents) on the ice below. I feel a smile tugging at my lips as I lean closer to her.
“If I’d known it was gonna be like this, I would’ve brought singles,” I murmur, making her snort with laughter.
“What’re you looking at?” Jamie pipes up from beside me, shoveling another handful of caramel corn into his mouth.
“Nothin’,” Ellie and I chorus automatically, then dissolve into barely-contained giggles, shoulders shaking as we try to keep our composure.
I press my lips together, fighting to keep my expression neutral as my eyes meet Ellie’s, which only makes us laugh harder, the kind of silent, shoulder-shaking laughter that threatens to burst out at any moment.
Ellie and I are still trying to contain our laughter, when I notice Collin skating toward us.
The giggles die in my throat, as he cuts smoothly across the ice.
Ellie must notice my sudden stillness because she follows my gaze, her own laughter subsiding as she pretends to dig through her purse, peeking at me out the corner of her eye as Collin taps his glove on the glass, grinning wide.
Something dark is clasped in his gloved hand, and he reaches up to drop a puck over the barrier.
Jamie catches it with both hands, wonder spreading across his features as he realizes what it is.
“Hey buddy! You excited for the game?” Collin’s voice carries easily through the glass, warm and friendly in a way that makes me ache a little.
“Yes!” Jamie practically vibrates with excitement, turning the puck over in his hands. “Mom! Mom, look! It’s signed by everyone.” He thrusts the puck toward my face, and I can’t stop my smile as he bounces up and down.
“I see it, baby,” I say softly, running my finger over the signatures. “That’s pretty special.”
“What about you, Pretty Girl?” Collin’s voice drops lower, and my eyes snap back to his. That familiar half-smile plays at his lips as his gaze deliberately drops to his number stretched across my chest. I cross my arms reflexively, feeling heat crawl up my neck.
His smirk widens.
“I—” I start to respond, but the words catch in my throat.
My hand moves unconsciously to touch the jersey fabric at my chest, fingers tracing along the edge of his number, and I see his eyes track the movement.
The simple gesture steals whatever comeback I might have had, leaving me standing there like a deer in headlights while he grins at me through the glass.
“Gotta head back,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at his teammates lining up.
His eyes find mine again, softening at the edges.
“You look beautiful.” The words settle somewhere deep in my chest, and I’m grateful he’s already skating away because the warmth in his voice has left me momentarily speechless.
Ellie pokes me in the ribs, drawing out a long “Ooooooh” that makes me flush even deeper.
I swat at her hand, unable to completely contain my grin even as I try to look stern.
“Quit it!” I hiss, but there’s no real heat in it, my grin so wide my cheeks hurt.
It feels good to be silly like this again, to have someone to share these moments with.
Next to me, Jamie’s still cradling the puck like it’s made of gold, turning it over and over in his small hands.
His nose is pink from the arena’s chill, eyes wide as he traces each signature with his finger.
“He’s so cool, Mom. Like, the coolest ever.” The words tumble out of him in an excited rush, and something in my chest softens at his pure joy, at how quickly Collin has managed to work his way into our little world.
“Yeah buddy,” I say, running my hand over his hair. “He is pretty cool, huh?” The words come out gentle, maybe a touch too fond, because Ellie starts up with another round of suggestive humming that has me reaching over to pinch her arm.
“Ow-ah. Brat!” Ellie pinches me back, her familiar retaliation making me chuckle as Jamie settles in beside me. The arena lights dim slightly as the pregame show begins, casting shadows across our section.
I lean closer to Ellie, my voice dropping. “So, how are things going with Jake?” She groans and lets her head fall back against the plastic seat.
“We’re currently off again.” The words tumble out flat, resigned.
I study the careful way she’s holding herself now, shoulders drawn inward like she’s trying to make herself smaller.
The forced lightness in her voice doesn’t fool me.
I know Ellie, I know the subtle tells that reveal when she’s barely holding it together.
“That bad?” She sighs, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears.
“He doesn’t take me seriously.” She shrugs, then waves her hand dismissively. “I really don’t wanna talk about it. Can we focus on you and your boy toy instead?” I laugh, shaking my head.
“He’s definitely not my boy toy.” Ellie grins, that mischievous spark returning.
“Oh whatever. He so is. Or at least he wants to be.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, earning another laugh.
The pregame show passes in a blur of lights and music, the anthem swelling through the arena before the players take their positions.
Then they’re moving, and it’s nothing like warm-ups.
The game transforms them into streaks of blue and white against the ice, impossibly fast. I try to follow the puck but it’s like chasing lightning, appearing in one spot only to vanish in the next breath.
Players weave between each other, bodies occasionally cracking against the boards, making me jump.
“They’re so fast!” Jamie bounces in his seat every time the Ice Hawks get close to scoring, his excitement contagious. When a player gets checked particularly hard against the glass in front of us, he gasps and grabs my arm. “Mom! Did you see that?”
“Hard to miss, buddy.” I laugh, though my own heart is racing from the impact.