Chapter 29
VIVIAN
The engine idles for a second longer than it needs to.
I don’t turn it off right away. I sit there, hands still on the wheel, staring straight ahead at the practice complex like it might give me some kind of warning about what I’m walking into.
I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and straighten slightly, smoothing a hand over my hair, then my jacket. Like that’s going to do anything about the knot sitting squarely in my chest.
You’re fine. It’s okay you haven’t talked all week. Today you’re going to see him. I swallow that thought down, reach across the passenger seat, and pick up the trophy.
It fits in both hands, about the size of a water bottle, the puck mounted clean and solid at the base. The piece in the center catches what little light there is, subtle but also exactly what I’d been chasing.
I run my thumb over the edge of it, a small, steadying motion.
“For the girls,” I whisper, like that’s the only thing this is about.
Then I kill the engine and step out of the car.
The air is cooler than I expect, brushing against my face as I make my way across the lot. There are cars everywhere—familiar ones, parents’ cars, the usual chaos of a practice day. It’s normal. Which somehow makes the tightness in my chest worse.
I push through the front doors and step into the arena, the familiar chill of the rink wrapping around me instantly.
Voices echo faintly. Skates cut across ice. I glance around, and my stomach drops.
Standing in the middle of the ice with the team surrounding her is Emma.
Ty’s not there.
Something inside me empties. It’s like cold air floods straight through my system, sharp and sudden, leaving everything else numb in its wake.
“Oh,” I breathe, barely audible even to myself.
Emma looks up from across the ice, spotting me almost immediately. Her expression changes suddenly, and then she’s moving, skating hard in my direction.
I don’t move. I stay put, clutching the trophy a little tighter, my brain trying and failing to catch up.
She reaches the boards in seconds, bracing a hand against it as she looks up at me.
“Hey,” she says, a little breathless, but focused. “Surprise, I’m back.”
I stare at her, my jaw unhinged. “I—yeah. I can see that.”
Her gaze drops briefly to what I’m holding. “Is that the trophy?”
“I made it,” I say quickly, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I mean, it’s not finished-finished, but it’s close. I wanted to bring something for today. It’s based on the sketches and conversations we’ve been doing in our sessions.”
Emma takes it, her expression shifting as she looks it over. “Wow,” she murmurs, genuinely impressed. Then she pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tilts it toward the light.
“Wait,” she says, glancing up. “Vivian…is that a real diamond?”
“Yeah. I—uh…” I manage to clear my throat, my nerves are all over the place. “The Sullivan Collective wants to sponsor the girls’ team.”
“The Sullivan Collective?” Emma’s brows lift.
“New name, inspired by the new direction we’re taking the business.
” I stand a little taller, wanting this moment to not pass me by.
I point to the diamond. My old diamond. The one I didn’t know what to do with.
“Your girls are amazing, and tough. They’re strong on the inside and out, and I can’t wait to see what your team becomes. I want in.”
“This is a work of art, you’re amazing! And we’d love to have you sponsor the team.” Emma grins at me before looking back at the trophy like she’s been handed the Stanley Cup. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I say, looking around, hoping I might see Ty suddenly appear in the stands or on the bench, and trying not to be obvious. I start walking toward the community room. “So, I guess I’ll go set up for today…”
“Vivian,” Emma cuts in, not unkindly. Firm enough that I stop in my tracks. “You’re not running the workshop today.”
My tummy flips. “But I—”
“No buts. I know about you and Ty, and I also know he’s been MIA all week.”
I blink at her. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” She shifts the clipboard tucked beneath her arm. “He told me. About you.”
Heat climbs immediately into my face. “He did?”
“Vivian, he’s my brother.” Emma gives me a look. “Of course he did. And,” she continues more gently now, “I also know he shared with you what’s been going on with him lately. So I think it’s only fair that you and I just get on the same page for a second.”
I nod slowly.
“Good.” She exhales. “Because I don’t want you here today.”
My brows arch. “Huh?”
“Let me get my thoughts in order, because being the intrusive big sister I can be, I want to make sure you understand what I’m saying.”
I wait patiently, and a little nervously too, for what Emma’s about to say.
“I got him to go to a pick-up game this morning, a captain’s skate,” she says.
Hearing her words allows something in me to ease instantly.
“Ohhhh good. On the ice,” I say quietly, “is the best place for him to be.”
Emma points at me immediately. “Exactly that.”
I pause. “What do you mean ‘exactly that’?”
“Because,” she says, her expression warming. “You get him.”
The words hit hard, square in the chest.
“He told me that you understand in a way a lot of people don’t,” she says, shifting her weight slightly. “For Ty, hockey isn’t just a sport or a paycheck or some family legacy thing.”
“It’s more than all of it,” I finish softly.
Emma nods once. “It is.”
For a second, neither of us says anything. The sounds of practice echo faintly from the rink behind us—sticks tapping ice, girls laughing somewhere near the bench doors.
“About ten minutes ago, I got a text from him saying he was heading home. Actually, he was asking me if frozen pizzas expire, but…” Her eyes lift back to mine. “So, I don’t know. Maybe you do what you want with that information.”
Despite everything, a laugh escapes me.
Emma smiles faintly, but then her expression turns serious again. “I know you’re probably hesitating because of your own history,” she says carefully. “Not that I know your history, but we all do that. Everybody brings old stuff into new things.” She pauses. “However, I need you to know something.”
I straighten a little and wait.
“My brother spent the last few days feeling like a liability,” she says quietly. “Not just to you. To everyone. Because of how overwhelmed he got. Because of how his brain works sometimes when too much stacks at once.”
“He called Dr. Hale, his therapist, though,” she adds after a second, her voice steady, protective without being defensive.
“Which…for Ty? That’s huge. He’s trying to understand what’s happening instead of just shoving it down and pretending he’s fine.
” She shifts the trophy in her hands. “He’s learning there are tools he can use, actual ways to manage himself before everything piles up so high he can’t find his footing anymore. ”
Emotion presses into my chest as she continues.
“I’m not asking you to excuse his choices.” Her voice gentles. “I just think he’s spent a really long time believing he had to push through everything alone. So maybe…give him a little grace while he figures this part out.”
Then she glances toward the ice.
“But the fact he got on the ice tells me he’s fighting his way back out of that place.”
Emotion presses thick into my throat while Emma steps backward, lifting the girls’ trophy in the air.
“So.” She points it at me. “I’m leaving you with that, and also officially informing you that you are not teaching the girls today.”
I let out a watery laugh. “Okay.”
“But,” she adds quickly, already turning toward the rink doors again, “I am absolutely going to need six more weeks from you very soon because those girls are obsessed with you.”
Do I grin? You bet I do.
Emma waves her hands, shooing me off. “Go.”
I stand there for a moment, rooted in place watching as she heads back toward the ice. I stay for exactly half a second longer before spinning toward the front doors.
Toward Ty.