Page 11 of The Love Comeback (Glaciers Hockey #3)

Chapter Ten

Ella

I close the yearbook, my fingers lingering on its worn cover as I glance around at the boxes still waiting to be unpacked, evidence of my new life scattered across the living room floor. A life so different from anything I’d imagined back when those yearbook photos were taken.

“We should probably get back to it,” I say, setting the yearbook aside. “I’ve got about a million more boxes to go through.”

Kade nods, stretching his long legs out in front of him before standing and reaching for another box, this one smaller than the others.

He opens it carefully, pulling out a stack of framed photos wrapped in newspaper.

He unwraps the first one, and I watch as his expression changes, softening into something like reverence.

“This is a great photo. When was it taken?” he asks, holding up a black frame containing a photo of me and my sister, our arms around each other, laughing at something off-camera.

“That’s from Colton’s fifth birthday party. Just a couple months before the accident,” I reply, a familiar ache blooming in my chest.

Kade looks at the photo more closely, his thumb brushing over the glass. “She looks so happy here. You both do.”

“We were,” I say softly, taking the frame. “It was a good day. Colton was over the moon because Brett had built him this elaborate dinosaur-themed obstacle course in the backyard.”

“I bet that was something to see,” Kade says, his voice gentle.

“It was ridiculous.” I laugh. “Brett spent three days building it, and Colton ran through it exactly twice before deciding he’d rather play with the box it came in.”

I set the frame on the mantel, adjusting it slightly until it sits just right.

My throat tightens with emotion, but I push past it as Kade unwraps another frame, this one a portrait of Katie and Brett holding newborn Colton between them, their faces glowing with a joy so pure it’s almost blinding.

He looks at it for a long moment before passing it to me.

“I remember this day,” he says simply.

I nod, unable to speak for a moment as I stare at my sister’s face.

She was radiant, exhausted but exhilarated.

I remember standing next to Kade in the hospital room our senior year, watching as Katie placed tiny Colton in my arms for the first time.

Kade held him shortly afterward and was a complete natural.

I run my finger along the edge of the frame. “I keep these photos everywhere, even though sometimes it hurts to look at them. Colton needs to see their faces. He needs to know who they were, how much they loved him. I can’t let him forget.”

“That’s important.” Kade nods in agreement. “But I can see how that could be hard.”

“Yeah … when I first got custody of him, I packed all the photos away,” I admit.

“It was too difficult to see their faces every day. But then, one night, I found Colton sitting in his closet with a picture of them he’d hidden under his pillow.

He was just … talking to it. Telling them about his day.

” My voice catches. “That’s when I realized how selfish I was being.

My grief didn’t matter more than his need to remember them. ”

“You’re an incredible person, Ella. Most twenty-two-year-olds would’ve crumbled under that kind of responsibility.”

I shrug, uncomfortable with the praise. “I did what anyone would do. He’s family.”

“No.” Kade shakes his head firmly. “Not everyone would’ve stepped up like you did. Not everyone could have handled it.” Kade looks down at his shoes. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. I wish I had known. I would’ve been there.”

“We weren’t exactly in touch,” I say, swallowing the hurt.

“I should’ ve been,” he says firmly. “After everything we went through together, I should’ve checked in on you. I could’ve found you again on social media. I could’ve gotten your new number from a mutual friend. I just … I thought you were happy with Landon. I didn’t want to intrude.”

I bark out a bitter laugh. “Well, that didn’t work out quite like I planned.”

Kade hesitates, then asks, “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I sigh. “The short version? He wasn’t prepared to be a parent. We were newlyweds when Katie and Brett died and I got custody of Colton. Landon stuck around for about a year before deciding it was all too much for him. Too much responsibility, too much grief, too much … reality, I guess.”

“What a jerk,” Kade says with surprising vehemence.

“Yeah, well, the way he left made getting over him pretty easy.” I shrug, trying to appear more nonchalant than I feel. “Colton and I did a lot of therapy. It helped. Colton’s in a good place now, all things considered. And I’m … I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Kade nods, watching me with those intense amber eyes that seem to see straight through me. He moves closer, stopping just a foot away from me. “Well, it’s okay if you’re not okay sometimes too, you know? You don’t have to be strong all the time, El.”

The nickname, so casual on his lips, breaks something loose inside me. I’ve spent five years being strong—for Colton, for myself. Five years of keeping it together, of solving problems and making decisions and shouldering responsibilities that should’ve been shared between two parents.

“I’m tired sometimes,” I whisper, the admission feeling dangerous. “Of being the only one. The only parent, the only decision-maker, the only one who knows where the Band-Aids are or how Colton likes his sandwiches cut or what to do when he has nightmares about the crash.”

To my horror, tears well in my eyes, hot and unexpected. I blink, trying to force them away. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”

Kade doesn’t hesitate. He closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. The embrace is so sudden, so unexpected, that I freeze for a moment before melting into it. His body is solid and warm, his heartbeat steady against my cheek.

“You’re doing a great job,” he murmurs. “Anyone can see how much Colton adores you. How much he’s thriving. That’s all because of you.”

I close my eyes, allowing myself this moment of weakness, of leaning on someone else.

His hands are gentle, one resting between my shoulder blades, the other at the small of my back.

The embrace feels both familiar and new—the same Kade who held me in high school, but different too.

Stronger, steadier, more sure of himself.

“Thank you,” I manage, my voice muffled against his shirt. “For listening. For understanding.”

“Always,” he replies, and I can feel the word rumble in his chest.

We embrace each other for what feels like both an eternity and not nearly long enough. I should pull away—I know I should—but for just this moment, I let myself be held, supported, seen. For just this moment, I’m not the only adult in the room, the only one carrying the weight.

And it feels dangerously good.

When we eventually pull away, my cheeks flush warm with embarrassment.

I’m not usually like this—all emotional and needy.

I’ve spent five years building myself into someone who doesn’t fall apart, who doesn’t need anyone else.

And here I am, practically crying on Kade’s shoulder after one evening of unpacking boxes.

Pull it together, Ella.

“Sorry about all that,” I mutter, taking a step back and tucking my hair behind my ear. “I don’t normally…”

“Don’t apologize,” Kade says, his voice gentle. “Really. It’s okay.”

I nod, not trusting myself to say more. The moment stretches between us, a bit awkward now, the ease from earlier replaced by something heavier.

I clear my throat and turn back to the boxes.

“Let’s finish up this one,” I suggest, gesturing to the box of photos we’ve been working on. “I still need to figure out where everything’s going to go.”

Kade nods, moving back to the box. The air feels different now—still warm, but charged with unspoken things.

“This place is going to look great once you’ve got everything set up,” Kade encourages, returning to the easy conversation of before. “Good bones, as they say.”

“Yeah, it’s coming along nicely,” I agree, relief washing over me at the change of subject. “Colton’s already talking about wanting to paint his room blue like the Glaciers’ jerseys.”

“Smart kid.” Kade grins and reaches into the box. He pulls out another frame, this one holding a photo of Brett in his college hockey uniform, arm slung around Katie, both of them laughing.

“Man, Brett was something else on the ice. I always thought he could’ve gone pro if he’d wanted to.”

“He probably would’ve.” I nod. “But everything changed when Katie got pregnant with Colton their junior year of college. But he never complained about giving up hockey. Not once. Said being Colton’s dad was worth more than any trophy.”

Kade smiles. “That’s just who Brett was.”

“Oh, most definitely.”

We continue to work in silence for a few minutes. It’s nice, how comfortable it feels.

Kade pulls out another frame, this one different from the family photos we’ve been unpacking. It’s smaller, silver, the glass slightly scratched from years of moves. He turns it over, and I see the exact moment he registers what he’s looking at .

“Oh wow,” he breathes, a smile spreading across his face. “Look at us.”

I know exactly what it is—Kade and me on graduation day, his arm around my waist, both of us beaming in our caps and gowns, blue and gold tassels catching the sunlight. His face pressed against mine so close that our cheeks were touching.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” he says, studying the photo with a nostalgic smile.

I feel my body tense. That picture was taken just two months before everything fell apart. Before Kade sat me down the night before I left for college and explained that he needed to focus on hockey. How hockey was the most important thing in his life…

The memory hits me like a physical blow, and I have to force myself to breathe normally.