Page 20 of The Love Comeback (Glaciers Hockey #3)

“That’s because he is a real hockey player,” Kade says, stepping off the ice behind him.

“And a darn good one at that.” He turns to Colton.

“You’ve got natural talent, and more importantly, you work hard.

That’s a winning combination.” Kade beams as he helps Colton to the bench, carrying his helmet and gloves.

He kneels to help unlace the skates, talking quietly with Colton about what they’ll work on next time.

There’s an ease to their interaction that simultaneously warms my heart and terrifies me.

Colton is getting attached—maybe too attached.

And if I’m being honest, so am I.

Kade approaches with Colton’s equipment bag slung over his shoulder. “He did great today,” he says, his voice low enough that Colton can’t overhear as he grabs a drink from the water fountain.

“That’s great! I wish I could’ve been here to see it, but duty calls.”

“Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with work and the robotics team,” he says, his amber eyes earnest. “I’d be happy to pick Colton up for lessons whenever needed. It’s no trouble at all. My schedule’s flexible on practice days.”

The offer is kind, practical, and would genuinely make my life easier. So why does accepting his help feel like crossing some invisible line I’ve drawn in my head?

“That’s really generous,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “but we’re managing okay with Valerie’s help.”

“Okay. Well, the offer stands,” Kade says simply, no pressure in his tone. “Just know it’s there if you need it.”

I nod, genuinely appreciative despite my hesitation. “Thank you, Kade.”

We say our goodbyes, and I manage to herd Colton toward the exit. Outside, the last light of day is fading from the sky as we make our way to the car. Colton climbs into the back seat, immediately buckling his seatbelt without being reminded—a small victory in the daily parenting battle.

I stow his equipment in the trunk, wincing slightly at the damp smell that’s already developing despite my best efforts to air everything out between practices. Another item for the weekend to-do list: figure out how to de-stink hockey gear .

We pull out of the parking lot, a comfortable silence settling over us as we both decompress from the day. Through the rearview mirror, I watch the lights of the ice rink recede, a strange melancholy washing over me as I think about Kade still in there.

“Hey, Ella?” Colton’s voice breaks the silence.

“Hmm?” I respond, eyes on the road as I navigate through early evening traffic.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

I glance back at him, surprised by the sudden expression of gratitude. “For what, bud?”

He fidgets with the zipper of his jacket, suddenly looking uncertain. “For everything, I guess. For letting me learn hockey. For working extra so I can maybe join the travel team.”

My heart pinches. How does he know about that? I’ve been careful not to mention the financial strain, not wanting him to worry.

“Valerie mentioned it,” he adds, as if reading my thoughts. “She said you’re coaching robotics to help pay for hockey stuff.”

I’m going to have a serious talk with Valerie about this later. But the damage is done.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say lightly, trying to downplay it. “I like robotics. It’s interesting.”

“But you’re always so tired,” he persists, his voice small. “I see you falling asleep on the couch with your laptop. And you get up super early to make my lunch even though I could just buy lunch at school like some of the other kids.”

I swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat. “Colton, that’s my job. To take care of you. To make sure you have what you need.”

“I know, but…” He looks out the window for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “You do so much more than you have to. Like writing me notes in my lunchbox every day. And coming to all my school stuff even when you’re really busy. And now you’re doing extra work just so I can play hockey.”

The earnest gratitude in his voice makes my eyes sting with unexpected tears. “You’re worth every bit of effort, Colton. Never doubt that.”

“I just want you to know that I see how hard you work, and I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

I have to blink rapidly to clear my vision, my heart’s so full it feels like it might burst. This sweet, observant boy notices far more than I give him credit for.

“And I know it’s not the same without my mom and dad,” he continues, his voice wavering slightly. “I miss them a lot. But…” He trails off, and I hold my breath, waiting. “But you’re the best mom ever,” he finishes. “And I’m really lucky that you’re my mom now. ”

Mom.

He called me mom.

In five years of caring for him, of loving him as my own, he’s always called me Ella. I’ve never pushed for anything else, understanding that “mom” belonged to Katie in his heart. And that was okay. I was his Ella, and that was enough.

Until now.

Tears spill onto my cheeks before I can stop them. I smile at him in the rearview mirror, unable to form words past the emotion clogging my throat.

“Is it okay that I called you that?” he asks hesitantly.

I manage to shake my head, then nod, then shake it again, realizing I’m sending mixed signals. “It’s more than okay,” I finally whisper, my voice breaking. “It’s … it’s perfect. If that’s what you want to call me, I would be honored.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits. “But I wasn’t sure if it would make you sad or make me forget my first mom.”

I pull into our driveway and put the car in park, turning to face him fully. “Colton, you will never forget your mom. Katie will always be your mom. Having me doesn’t change that at all.”

He nods solemnly. “I know. But I can have two moms, right? One in heaven and one here with me?”

The simple wisdom in his words undoes me completely. I immediately hop out of the car and make my way to his side, opening his door as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Yes,” I manage, my voice thick with tears as I pull him into a hug. “You absolutely can have two moms. ”

He hugs me back fiercely, his face pressed into my shoulder. For a moment, we just hold each other, this new understanding—this new bond—settling around us like a warm blanket.

When we finally pull apart, he grins at me, that bright, beautiful smile that has gotten me through the hardest days. “So, does this mean I can have ice cream for dinner, Mom?”

I laugh through my tears, the new title sending a fresh wave of emotion through me. “Nice try, kiddo. But no, we’re still having chicken tonight.”

He sighs dramatically, but there’s no real disappointment in it. “Worth a shot.”

As we gather our things and head inside, I realize that for all the financial stress, all the exhaustion, all the moments of feeling completely overwhelmed—this makes it all worthwhile.

Nothing compares to the simple, profound joy of being called “Mom” by the boy who holds my heart.