Page 102 of Pucked Together

Trevor looks up from his stall and over at me. I walk over to him, still in my skates, and throw an arm around his shoulder, "We're good now."

Rina places an unbelieving hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side," Really? I'm supposed to believe that you're suddenly friends."

"There was a misunderstanding," Trevor offers from under the weight of my arm. And the rookie and I exchange knowing glances. "We're good."

"Fine," Rina says, turning on her heels and walking out before saying over her shoulder. "Five minutes, boys."

I ruffle Trevor's hair, and he pushes me off playfully but forcefully enough to remind me that he's one of the toughest D-men out there. And I get a flash of hope that we might actually turn things around in this team.

I look for Izzy in the sea of faces in the press room, but she's not there. We get through the interviews. And just as suspected, everyone wants to know about the beef between me and Sincaid. And how Keelan plays into it all.

We leave Izzy out of it.

Trevor and Izzy kept their relationship under wraps when they were together. And that's now history. No need to bring it up.

But I miss my girl.

I'm buzzing to get out from behind the curious faces of the press. Cameras all around. Mics are catching my every sound. When we're done, I reach into my pocket just as a text comes through.

Izzy: Section 117, Row Q

Weird.

I push past the remaining press and make my way back into the arena. It's almost completely empty, save for the custodians and Zamboni drivers.

When I look up over the home bench, I don't just see Izzy, but three figures. All wearing number 33 jerseys. When they see me, they all stand and wave their foam fingers, cheering at me.

I take tentative steps up the cement steps to meet them, and now I can distinguish them.

Izzy, Rowan and..."Mom?"

"Hi Rykie." There's a softness in her face. One I haven't seen in a while. Not since before.

"What are you—?" I look to Rowan, who is smirking.

"Ted's been arrested," he says. It had been less than a week since we reached out to the exoneration lawyer.

"Did your lawyer work that fast?" I ask, still confused.

"No, it was unrelated. But he'll be put away and well," he motions to our mother.

She looks between both of us, a woman broken and beaten for so many years—with two massive men for children that couldn't protect her from her own personal prison. She's here. She's free.

Izzy raises her camera and snaps a photo of the three of us.

"I'm sorry," she says, biting her lip. "I couldn't just let the moment pass."

My mom looks at Izzy with loving eyes. "I've met your girlfriend," she smiles at me from ear to ear.

"She's a little more than that, Mom," I tug Izzy to me and she melts into my side, rising up on her tippy toes to give me a kiss.

"So I've heard," she says, elbowing Rowan.

"Were you guys here the whole time?"

"Izzy invited us to see you play," Rowan admits.

And I look at my girl, those siren eyes full of pride.