My daughter shrugged, already bored with our conversation, and leapt to her feet. She pounded on the glass with her little fists, shouting Easton’s name. “Easton! Easton! Easton!”

I guess Hailey didn’t need an answer or explanation as to why I hadn’t told them Easton played hockey. One obstacle crossed with minor damage. I let out a sigh of relief.

Heath shot up next to her and pounded on the glass too. He didn’t shout Easton’s name, but he was smiling broadly, as if this was his best day ever. Their excitement warmed my insides. Easton had done the right thing by them, even though I’d had my doubts. Maybe he did have some fathering instincts, and maybe I was too overprotective and worried too much.

Easton skated by again and casually tossed a hockey puck over the glass. Heath caught it and held it up for us to see. His grin spread wider than before.

Hailey jumped up and down and pounded even harder, wanting her own puck. Easton did a slow, lazy circle and tossed another. Hailey missed it, but I caught it and handed it to her. She fist-bumped Heath and erupted into another steady string of chattering, talking so fast I had a hard time understanding her. Nothing unusual there. She was talking to her brother anyway, so I turned away and took a sip of the beer I’d bought earlier. I never really knew if Heath understood her because of some twin-bond thing they had going or if he only pretended to do so.

I glanced at Junie. Her eyes were glued to the ice. I followed her gaze in an attempt to figure out what guy she was so zeroed-in on. Could it be Kaden who was the current subject of Junie’s attention? Or would that be the current victim she was stalking? Hard to tell with Junie, but she never led guys on. She was in it for sex, fun, and nothing long-term. These hot hockey players were right up her alley and prime game. I was surprised she hadn’t hooked up with any of them yet, but maybe she was taking her time and savoring the hunt.

My attention strayed back to Easton. He was all business now, concentrating on scoring drills with the two other guys on his line. He moved with the speed and precision of a trained athlete, a man who’d taken advantage of his innate physical ability and honed his body and mind to reach the highest level of his chosen sport. Easton was good, really good, and I was proud of him even if I didn’t have the right to be.

For a long time, I’d resented hockey, blamed the sport for ripping him away from me. Now I saw things as they were. If we’d stayed together back then, we wouldn’t have lasted. We were too young with too many strikes against us. Young love burned hot and fast but often didn’t have staying power as the couple matured and grew in different and opposing directions.