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RILEY

The smell of roasted garlic and herbs fills the house as I carry a basket of rolls to the dining table. My dad’s hovering over the lasagna, mumbling about not overcooking the cheese while I set the table for five. It’s the first time we’re eating a meal together in over eight years, and it has the air of a new beginning, which only makes me nervous. The circumstances are so different from our last meal. At the time, only my dad was aware that he intended to leave. Was it breakfast or dinner? I can’t remember which is probably for the best.

Jacob’s health has been on my mind constantly since he agreed to seek treatment for his headaches and take some time out of hockey. Even though he keeps telling me and his brothers that he’s not going back, he’s left it open with the team. Coach Thorton was understanding, but he’s worried that Jacob’s departure will affect the rest of the season, and he’s probably right. Skarsgard, Collins and the others will step into the breach, but Jacob’s skates will be hard to fill. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, as I’ve taken to doing, willing away the tension from his jaw. He’s been telling himself that quitting will mean letting everyone down for so long that it’s hard to undo those concerns overnight.

Tonight is a step forward, a chance to be like family, which I know is important to all of us.

“Smells amazing, Mr. Johnstone,” Shawn says as he leans casually against the counter, sneaking a roll from the basket before I can slap his hand away.

“Thanks,” Dad replies, his tone gruff but warm. “And you can call me Tom. You used to.”

“That was before we were trying to impress you.”

Dad chuckles and pulls the bubbling lasagna from the oven, setting it on the counter to cool. “It’ll take more than last-naming me to do that.”

Jacob steps in, his presence quieter but commanding as always. He takes a stack of plates from the counter and carries them to the table, his movements slow but deliberate. The new medication he’s taking to dull his pain is dulling his reactions, too. No wonder his expression is tight. For a man so used to moving with fluid speed and grace, this new, slower way of being must be alien.

“Thanks,” I say with a smile, handing him silverware to set out.

He glances at me, his icy blue eyes softening. “This is nice.”

I look over at Dad, who’s laughing with Hayes and Shawn, and smile. “Yeah. It really is.”

Turning, I find the picture of Jacob, Shawn, and Hayes that’s been a feature of our home since we left. Their young, smiling faces once served as a reminder of the past, a simpler time filled with unspoken possibilities. Now, that same photo feels reframed, infused with the present we’re savoring and the future we’re daring to dream of.

I could never have imagined how life would twist and turn to bring us here. The path hasn’t been easy, but it’s been full of surprises, some heartbreakingly hard, others impossibly beautiful.

Dad laughs at something Shawn says, a rich, carefree sound that fills the room. The warmth of it swells inside me, too big to contain. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the happiness coursing through me, unsure how to handle the depth of it all.

The conversation over lunch starts off light, with Dad asking for updates about the school, and team gossip. Shawn gives a dramatic reenactment of Malik’s accidentally skating into a water cooler during practice.

“It wasn’t accidental ,” Shawn insists, waving his fork for emphasis. “He thought he could deke out the cooler to impress some girl in the stands. Tripped over his own skates and went flying.”

Hayes shakes his head, grinning. “Bet Coach loved that.”

“Coach said he’d put Malik in charge of organizing team hydration for the next away game as punishment,” Shawn says, his grin turning wicked, and Jacob snort-laughs, which has been a rare sound these past weeks.

“And how are you feeling, Jacob?” Dad says, reaching for his bottle of beer.

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn to Jacob. He sets his fork down carefully, leaning back in his chair as he exhales through pursed lips.

“Better,” he says. “The new meds are helping with the headaches. I’m sleeping more, which has made a huge difference. But it’s going to be a process. At least that’s what my doctors say.”

Dad nods, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad you’re getting the support you need. Facing this head on takes courage.”

I glance at my dad, catching the weight in his words. He’s thinking about Carl and the way he hid his symptoms.

“I’ve been thinking about what comes next,” Jacob says. “About what happens after hockey. I didn’t think there was anything else for me. Hockey was everything. But now… I want to find something that’s going to be my thing, not something I’m doing because our father wanted me to.”

“Like what?” I ask gently, my hand brushing his under the table.

“I’ve been looking into some organizations that work with athletes dealing with concussions and post-concussive syndrome,” he explains. “They help players, and their families deal with the changes it can cause, and leagues understand the risks and implement safety protocols. I think I could do something there with my experience to make a difference.”

My chest tightens with pride as I listen to him. It’s the first time I’ve heard him talk about a future outside of playing hockey, the first time his eyes lit up when he talks about the years ahead, and it’s a turning point.

“And maybe coaching,” Jacob adds, glancing at Hayes. “Working with younger players, teaching them how to play smart and stay safe… that’s something I’d like to explore.”

Hayes nods, his expression unreadable at first, but then he smiles faintly. “You’d be good at that. Both things... and speaking of futures,” Hayes says, setting his fork down, “I told Coach I’m officially retiring at the end of the season.”

The table goes quiet again, but this time, the silence is lighter and more thoughtful.

“Are you at peace with that?” Dad asks.

Hayes nods. “Yeah. It’s time. I’ve given everything I can to the game, and I’m ready to move on. I’ve been thinking about some options, but nothing’s set yet. For now, I just want to finish the season strong.”

Shawn raises his glass, his grin mischievous but genuine. “To Hayes hanging up his gloves. Let’s hope his retirement speech isn’t as boring as his usual pep talks.”

“Shut up, Shawn,” Hayes says, but he’s smiling, too.

“And what about you?” Dad asks Shawn.

Shawn’s grin widens, his confidence as unshakable as ever. “Still planning to go pro. Someone’s gotta carry the Drayton legacy, right?”

Jacob and Hayes exchange glances, and rather than scorn or bitterness, I see nothing but pride in their eyes. And relief.

“We’ll be behind you all the way,” Jacob says.

“Even when you inevitably trip over your giant head during warm-ups,” Hayes adds, earning a round of laughter.

“It sounds like you boys have your plans sorted,” Dad says, his voice steady with pride that Jacob, Shawn, and Hayes all pick up on. “You all have your heads on right, that’s for sure. And if there’s ever anything you need, advice or just to talk something through, you know where I am.”

I reach out to take his hand, so grateful that I’ve been lucky enough to have the kind of father who’d step in to fill the gap in my partners’ lives, and he winks in the way he always did when I was a kid.

***

After dinner, we settle into the living room, the mood lighter but still reflective. I watch my men as they stretch out in front of the TV to watch a football game with my dad, and it’s so deeply right that I have to look away and blink a few times, so I don’t turn into a blubbering wreck.

When I’ve composed myself, I settle next to Jacob, and he immediately puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and resting his lips against the top of my head. “I think it’s time you come clean about who you really are,” he says, heating my scalp with his breath.

I pull back and twist to look up at him, catching the slight grin drawing up the corners of his full lips. “What?”

“ Icing the Cake, ” he says with a smirk. “When are you going to reveal yourself?”

“What?” my dad says, looking between us.

I cringe, but Jacob squeezes my hand. “It’s time, Riles. Own it. If anyone can spin this into something good, it’s you.”

Dad’s watching, his expression open.

“You know that channel Icing the Cake ?”

He nods. “The one with the lewd cakes?”

I grimace but nod. “It’s me.”

“You?”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s her,” Hayes confirms, his tone amused. “The mystery host who’s been keeping hockey gossip alive. We think it’s time she showed her pretty face.”

“I don’t know…”

“We’ll be there,” Shawn says. “If you want to go public, we’ve got your back.”

“And if you don’t?” Hayes adds. “We’ll still have your back.”

I glance at my dad, who gives me a small nod, his eyes full of quiet pride. “You’re seriously that baker who makes all those phallic-shaped cakes?”

“You’ve been eating those phallic-shaped cakes for over a year,” I laugh. “I just chopped them into less phallic-looking shapes before serving them.”

Dad shakes his head and barks with laughter. “Well. What do you know? You got any other secrets you want to drop on me, kiddo? No other secret identities or boyfriends waiting in the wings?”

“Definitely no other boyfriends,” Jacob growls. “Secret identities, we’re not so sure.”

“I’m an open book,” I say. “Now, at least. You don’t think the channel will be detrimental to what I want to do in the future?”

“No way,” Shawn says. “You’re making a success of something original and funny. Any employer who can’t see that isn’t one you’d be happy working for.”

“Shawn’s right,” Dad says. “You should be proud of what you’ve achieved.” He looks down at his phone and shakes his head. “Half a million followers, Riles. That’s impressive.”

I blush as all the men in my life, who I love, smile, proud of my success. I don’t have to hide this part of me anymore, and knowing that is so freeing, I can achieve anything. “It’s time,” I say, smiling, already thinking through what my big reveal could be like.

“And you guys are going to help me.”