28. JAXON
JAXON
We Got It
The rink smells the same.
Cold air, sharpened steel, that faint mix of rubber and sweat that’s been part of my life for so long it feels like muscle memory. The sound hits me next—the steady scrape of skates, the thud of pucks against boards, the low hum of voices echoing across the ice.
I stand just inside the boards for a moment, arms crossed, watching.
Nate is already running the drill at center ice, barking instructions with a confidence that wasn’t there a season ago. The lines move cleanly. Sharp passes. Fast transitions. No hesitation.
They’re locked in.
Disciplined.
A pass cuts clean across the ice, intercepted mid-stride and turned into a quick shot on goal. Misha blocks it with a sharp snap of his glove, and the guys groan in unison.
“Again!” Nate calls. “Faster this time—don’t think, move!”
I almost smile.
I push off from the boards and step fully into the rink space, the shift in energy immediate.
They see me. One by one.
There’s a ripple that runs through the team. Coach is back.
Nate skates toward me, pulling off his helmet. “You’re early.”
“Or you’re late,” I reply.
His mouth twitches. “We’ve been out here twenty minutes.”
“Then you’re on time.”
That earns a quiet chuckle from a few of the guys nearby.
I glance past him, taking in the group again.
“Bring it in,” I call.
No hesitation.
They skate over, forming a loose circle around me, sticks resting against their legs, breath still visible in the cold air.
I take a second before I speak.
“I watched the Chicago game,” I say finally.
I look at Nate, then around the group. At Declan, Rhys, Jake, Marcus, Connor, and the others.
“You played like a team that knows exactly who they are,” I say.
I see spines straighten. A flicker of pride.
“Your transitions were clean. You trusted each other.” My gaze sharpens slightly. “That’s not luck. That’s work.”
“Nate,” I add, my focus locking on him. “Thank you for stepping in. You did amazing.”
He shrugs, deflecting the compliment.
I shift my attention back to the group.
“Misha,” I call. “That second-period save—left side.”
He grins. “You saw that?”
“I saw everything.”
A few laughs ripple through the team.
“Kept us in the game,” I continue.
He taps his stick lightly against the ice in acknowledgment.
“I’m proud of you,” I say. “Of all of you.”
“Coach,” Declan mutters under his breath, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with that.
I let the moment sit for a second.
“I also want to apologize that I couldn’t be there. As you know, I had a very important appointment that day and couldn’t make it. But I’m very sorry I wasn’t here with all of you. And I won’t let you down again.”
Jake clears his throat “You didn’t let us down, coach. You did the right thing.”
I hear murmurs of agreement, Rhys and Marcus nod.
“Yeah,” Connor else adds. “We knew where you were.”
“And why,” Declan chimes in. “You had bigger things going on.”
My gaze sharpens. “That’s not your concern.”
“It kind of is,” Nate says.
I look at him.
He hesitates for half a second, then goes for it.
“We talked to management.”
That catches me off guard.
“What?”
“The whole thing,” he says. “Chicago. You missing it. Vance losing his mind about it.”
My jaw tightens. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, we did.”
“Why?”
He looks at me like the answer should be obvious.
“Because you’ve got our backs,” he says. “We’ve got yours.”
Silence follows. I can’t believe they did that. The whole team? And I haven’t even been their coach that long.
“And?” I ask.
Nate glances at a couple of the guys, then back at me.
“They backed off,” he says. “No penalties. No disciplinary nonsense. Nothing.”
I stare at him.
“Vance agreed?” I ask.
“Reluctantly,” Nate admits. “But yeah.”
Another voice cuts in, lighter this time. “Turns out it’s hard to threaten your head coach when the entire team tells you to back off.”
A few grins spread.
I shake my head slowly, processing that.
This team. My team.
“You’re going to turn me into a soft fool,” I mutter, blinking against the sting behind my eyes.
Nate’s grin widens. “Nah. We’re going to win you a cup.”
That pulls a real laugh out of me.
“Get back on the ice,” I say, shaking my head. “Let’s see if that confidence is earned.”
They break immediately, energy snapping back into place.
***
By the time I leave the rink, the noise is still in my bones.
The scrape of blades. The rhythm of drills. The sharp focus that comes with being on the ice.
For years, that’s been the thing that centered me. The thing everything else had to fit around.
Now—
I pull my jacket on, stepping out into the cool air, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. Not with pressure. Not with something I need to fix.
Just a message.
Zara:
We’re home. Lily insists you bring snacks.
A faint smile pulls at my mouth.
Yeah. Not everything revolves around hockey anymore.
By the time I step into the apartment, I hear them before I see them.
Lily’s laugh. Zara’s voice. The easy overlap of both.
“Dad!” Lily calls, already halfway down the hall.
I barely have time to drop my bag before she launches herself at me.
I catch her automatically, lifting her up with a grunt. “Hey, bug.”
“Did you win practice?” she asks seriously.
I huff out a laugh. “We’re working on it.”
I glance up.
Zara’s leaning against the kitchen counter, watching us with that soft look that’s been undoing me more and more lately.
Lily wiggles in my arms. “Did you bring snacks?”
“Is that all I am to you now?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Zara snorts.
I set Lily down, shaking my head. “Kitchen. Now. Before you stage a rebellion.”
She runs ahead without another word.
I follow at a slower pace, my gaze drifting to Zara as I step into the kitchen.
“You’re back early,” she says.
“Wrapped up faster than expected.”
Her eyes search mine. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping closer. “Better than okay.”
She studies me for half a second longer, then nods.
The rest of the evening settles into something that feels… easy.
Dinner happens in that chaotic, half-organized way that comes with Lily talking non-stop about something that happened at the playground.
Zara listens like it’s the most important story in the world. I sit there, watching both of them more than I probably should.
By the time Lily starts rubbing her eyes, the energy shifts.
“Bed,” I say.
“No,” she says immediately.
“Yes.”
“Five more minutes.”
“Two.”
She considers that. “Three.”
I glance at Zara.
Zara shrugs, clearly amused. “Three seems fair.”
“Three,” I agree.
Lily grins like she just won a major negotiation.
Three minutes later, I carry her down the hallway anyway.
She’s half-asleep already, her head tucked against my shoulder, her small hand fisted in my shirt.
I settle her into bed, pulling the blanket up and smoothing her hair back from her face.
“You staying?” she murmurs, barely awake.
“Always,” I say quietly.
She hums something that might be agreement, might be sleep, and then she’s gone.
I stay there for a second longer than necessary. Just watching her breathe.
Then I step back into the living room. Zara is curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand.
She looks up when she hears me, something soft lighting in her expression.
“She out?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Fast?”
“Didn’t stand a chance.”
She smiles, patting the spot next to her. “Come sit.”
I grab a glass for myself, pour something without really paying attention to what it is, and drop down beside her.
For a moment, we just sit there.
“This feels weird,” she says after a second.
I glance at her. “Weird how?”
“Like… not having a crisis to manage.”
I take a sip of my drink, considering that.
“Yeah,” I admit. “A little.”
She smiles faintly, then leans back into the couch, her shoulder brushing mine.
My phone rings. At the name on the screen, we both sit up a little straighter.
It’s Rebecca.
“Answer it,” Zara says softly.
I nod and pick up. “Rebecca.”
“Jaxon,” she says. “I won’t keep you long.”
Something in her tone tells me everything I need to know.
I stand slowly, more out of instinct than necessity.
Zara watches me, her expression tight.
“The judge has finalized her decision,” Rebecca continues.
I don’t breathe.
“She is ruling in your favor. Full custody is being awarded to you. Rachel will have structured visitation rights.”
I close my eyes for a second, overwhelmed by the sheer relief flooding through me.
“She’s… staying,” I say, more to myself than to Rebecca.
“Yes,” Rebecca replies gently. “She is.”
I nod once. “Thank you.”
“You earned this,” she says. “Both of you did.”
The call ends.
I lower the phone slowly.
For a second, I just stand there.
Then I look at Zara.
She hasn’t moved.
“Jax?” she whispers.
“We got it,” I say.
Her breath catches.
“We got it.”
That’s all it takes.
She sets her glass down without looking and crosses the space between us in two quick steps, throwing her arms around me.
I catch her, pulling her in just as tight.
“We did it,” she breathes against my chest.
“We did.”
My hand slides up her back, holding her there, grounding both of us.
It’s over.
There’s no more fight.
No more waiting.
No more wondering if something is going to take this away from us.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes bright.
I reach for the wine, hand her glass back, then lift mine.
“To us,” I say.
Her smile breaks wide, unguarded, and something in my chest locks into place.
She lifts hers, her fingers brushing mine.
“To us.”