Page 32 of The Love Comeback (Glaciers Hockey #3)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ella

The classroom feels too quiet after the last student leaves, the silence punctuated by the ticking of the clock and my pen tapping against the stack of ungraded papers on my desk.

I have thirty-two math quizzes to grade, each one needing my full attention—attention I can’t seem to muster because my thoughts keep drifting to Kade.

I set down my pen and rub my temples, my eyes going to my phone sitting face-up on my desk. No new notifications. No texts from Kade. Which is exactly what I asked for, isn’t it? Space. Distance. Time to think.

So why does it feel so hollow?

I manage to grade two papers before my thoughts stray again. It’s not that the work isn’t important. These kids deserve my full attention. But Kade’s words keep echoing in my head.

“I’m always here for both of you.”

I shake my head, trying to dislodge his voice from my memory.

I called him in a moment of weakness, when Colton’s tears about wanting a dad broke my heart, and when my own mother couldn’t even remember what decade we were in.

I just needed someone who would understand, someone who knows Colton well enough to offer genuine insight.

I didn’t expect Kade to answer immediately. I didn’t expect the gentle patience in his voice as I stumbled through an explanation. I definitely didn’t expect his words to make me feel so … seen.

And so … safe .

I stare at Lucy Smith’s quiz. She’s made the exact same error as three other students.

I should make a note to review that concept tomorrow.

But instead, I find myself thinking about how Kade’s never missed a single opportunity to be there for Colton, even when I pushed him away.

How much that consistency must mean to a boy who’s lost so much.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep him at arm’s length when he’s so thoroughly woven himself into the fabric of our lives. When Colton talks about him constantly. When I find myself looking for him in the stands before I even realize what I’m doing .

“You’re not actually grading that test, are you?”

I startle, nearly dropping my pen as I look up to find Valerie perched on the edge of a student’s desk.

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, setting my pen down.

“Long enough to watch you stare at the same question for five minutes.” She hands me one of the two coffee cups she’s carrying. “You need this more than I do. You’re a million miles away.”

I accept the cup gratefully. “Just tired.”

“Mm-hmm,” Valerie hums, clearly unconvinced. She settles more comfortably on the desk, crossing her legs beneath her flowy emerald dress. “And this zombie stare has nothing to do with a certain NHL player?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Spill it,” she demands, using that same penetrating stare she gives students who are trying to hide contraband. “Something’s going on. You’ve had that distracted look on your face all week.”

I take a sip of coffee, buying myself some time. Valerie waits patiently, one eyebrow raised. She’s never been one to back down easily.

“I guess I’m just … confused. I told Kade I needed space, and he’s respected that. He hasn’t pushed or tried to change my mind. He just … shows up for Colton. Every time. Without fail. ”

“And that surprises you?”

I fiddle with the coffee cup lid. “Maybe? I don’t know. After Landon left, I guess I just expected—I don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected Kade to leave, too,” Valerie says softly. “But he hasn’t. Not even when you gave him every reason to.”

The truth of her words hits me like a physical blow. “He genuinely cares about Colton,” I whisper. “He hasn’t missed a single game. He just keeps showing up for him. He even invited us all to the upcoming Glaciers game.”

“Us all?”

“You, me, Aaron, and Colton. He has tickets.”

Valerie studies me for a moment, her head tilted. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be keeping her distance, you seem to be letting him awfully close.”

“It’s for Colton,” I say automatically.

“Is it?” she challenges. “Or are you possibly developing feelings for him again?”

I stare down at the stack of tests. “It’s complicated.”

“Love usually is,” she says with a small smile.

“I didn’t say anything about love,” I counter.

“You didn’t have to.” Valerie takes a sip of her coffee, watching me over the rim. “Your face does this thing when you talk about him. It’s like you’re trying so hard to keep your walls up, but they keep crumbling anyway. ”

I run my hands through my hair, loosening more strands from the clip I secured it with this morning. “He’s already broken my heart once before, Val.”

“I get that. But people change. You’re not the same person you were at eighteen, right?”

“No,” I admit.

“And Kade doesn’t seem like the same person either,” she points out. “From everything you’ve told me, he’s been nothing but supportive and respectful of your need for space, even when it’s clearly killing him—and you.”

“Sure, but Kade and I have history. Complicated history.” I sigh. “And I’ve spent so long being angry at him for choosing hockey over me that I don’t know how to let that go.”

“But he’s not choosing hockey over you now, is he?” Valerie counters. “He’s doing everything he can to be present for both you and Colton, despite his career.”

I blink. I hadn’t thought about it that way. “I suppose not.”

“From my perspective, Kade seems like a man who made a mistake when he was young and is doing everything in his power to make up for it now.”

“I … I just don’t want Colton to get hurt.”

“And you think keeping Kade at arm’s length is protecting Colton?” Valerie questions. “From what I’ve seen, that boy adores Kade. And Kade adores him right back. ”

“For now,” I counter. “But what happens when Kade decides hockey is more important again? Or when he just gets tired of playing dad to someone else’s kid?”

Valerie studies me for a long moment. “You know, fear is a funny thing. It can keep us safe, but it can also keep us stuck.” She reaches out to cover my hand with hers. “I think your fear is holding both you and Colton back from the family you could have.”

“Family?” I echo, the word catching in my throat.

“Yes, family.” Valerie leans forward, her eyes earnest. “Those boys are so much happier together. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re happier, too.”

I can’t deny it. The moments when the three of us are together—at the rink, getting pizza after practice, even just sitting in the car—those are the moments when everything feels right.

I stare down at my coffee cup, watching the steam curl into the air.

“I don’t know how to let him in without risking everything. ”

“Oh, Ella.” Valerie sighs. “That’s the thing about love. It always involves risk. There are no guarantees. But from what I’ve seen, Kade Santos is a pretty sure bet. I mean, he’s been showing you and Colton exactly who he is through his actions. The question is, are you paying attention?”

I think about the last couple weeks—how Kade has kept his distance from me while still being there for Colton, how his face lights up whenever Colton succeeds on the ice. How the man has spent countless hours teaching my boy how to skate, to play, to believe in himself.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” I whisper, voicing my deepest fear. “What if he leaves again?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Valerie counters, squeezing my arm. “What if this is your second chance at happiness? Are you really willing to let fear rob you of that?”

I don’t have an answer. Valerie doesn’t push for one. She just sits with me, her presence comforting as I mull over her words.

The bell rings, startling us both. In less than a minute, my classroom will be filled with thirty energetic twelve-year-olds.

“Think about it,” she says, standing up and smoothing her dress. “That’s all I’m asking. Just think about what you really want, not what you’re afraid of. And know that it’s okay to change your mind. Just don’t wait too long, or you might lose him altogether.”

Her words hit something deep inside me. The thought of losing Kade again, this time because of my own fear rather than his choices, makes my chest ache in a way I can’t ignore.

She gives me one last meaningful look before heading to the door. “And for what it’s worth,” she adds, pausing in the doorway, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not watching. That man is still very much in love with you, Ella.”

The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the dishwasher.

I curl up in the corner of the living room couch, wrapping myself in the throw blanket Colton and I picked out together last winter.

He’s been asleep for over an hour now. I should be grading more papers and prepping for tomorrow’s lessons, but Valerie’s words from this afternoon keep circling in my head like a song I can’t shake.

“What if this is your second chance at happiness?”

The question feels both terrifying and exhilarating, like standing at the edge of a high dive, trying to decide whether to jump.

I close my eyes, and suddenly the memory of our breakup all those years ago unfolds like a movie in my mind. The words exchanged, the hurt, the tears.

But the scene is playing differently than it has for the past decade.

I’ve always remembered it as a betrayal—Kade choosing hockey over me, breaking my heart because his NHL career mattered more than our relationship. But now, remembering the confusion on his face, the way his words tumbled out incoherently … I wonder if there was more to it.

“I just want to be able to give you the world, and I don’t know … Maybe long distance isn’t going to be the way that works.”

Those were his exact words. At eighteen, all I heard was rejection. But now, at twenty-seven, I hear the fear behind them. The insecurity. The pressure he must have been under.

I was so hurt, so blindsided, that I ran. I didn’t stay to hear his explanation or try to understand. I cut him off completely—deleted his number, blocked him on social media, ignored his attempts to reach out. It was easier to hate him than to face the pain of losing him.

But we were just kids. Kids with big dreams and no real understanding of what it meant to navigate adult relationships through major life transitions. Kids who made mistakes.

I open my eyes with a newfound understanding. A newfound hope.

And that’s when Kade’s question—the night after our kiss—echoes in my mind:

“I still have feelings for you, El … is it really too late for us?”

At the time, I was too angry, too defensive to hear it. But now, alone in the quiet of my living room, I let myself truly consider it.

Is it too late?

But my heart already knows the answer. It’s been there all along, buried beneath layers of protection I built up over the years.

I’ve been so focused on avoiding pain that I’ve been blind to the possibility of joy. So determined not to repeat past mistakes that I’ve been making a new one—pushing away someone who genuinely cares for both me and Colton.

I stand up, stretching my arms overhead, before making my way to my bedroom.

I peek into Colton’s room. He’s sprawled across his bed, one arm flung over his head, hockey posters watching over him from every wall.

While asleep, he looks so much like Katie that it makes my heart twist. I wonder what she would tell me if she were here.

I think she’d want me to be happy. To let Colton be happy. To stop hiding behind fear and start opening myself to possibility.

Which is why, starting now, I’m done letting fear dictate my decisions.

Tomorrow, we have tickets to Kade’s game. I’ll see him there, probably just briefly after the game, but it’s a start. A chance to look at him with new eyes, without the walls I’ve been hiding behind.

Maybe our story isn’t over yet.

Maybe it’s just beginning.