Page 8 of The Love Comeback (Glaciers Hockey #3)

Chapter Eight

Ella

The drive home from the circus is quiet. I keep my gaze fixed out the window, nervous that if I look at Kade for too long, I might forget all the reasons I should keep my distance.

“That was really fun,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. I glance back at Colton, who’s passed out in the backseat, his head lolling against the window, mouth slightly open. “I think you wore him out.”

Kade chuckles, the sound warm and familiar in the confined space of his truck. “I think the circus wore him out. Did you see his face during the motorcycle cage? I thought his eyes were going to pop right out of his head.”

I smile. “Yeah, he was pretty mesmerized. I haven’t seen him that excited in a long time.”

“Really?” Kade glances at me quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “He seems like a pretty excitable kid to me.”

“Well, hockey makes him excited,” I admit, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And you , apparently. But this was different. This was pure joy, you know? The kind kids should have all the time.”

Something shifts in Kade’s expression, a softness I’m not prepared for. “He deserves that.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, swallowing the knot that forms in my throat whenever I think about everything Colton has lost. “He does.”

We fall into silence again as Kade navigates through the late-night traffic. The radio plays softly in the background. I catch myself almost reaching to turn it up—a habit from our high school days when we’d drive around with the windows down, singing at the top of our lungs.

“So”—Kade clears his throat—“how’s the new place? Getting settled okay?”

I almost laugh. “Depends on your definition of ‘settled.’ I’ve managed to unpack the kitchen and most of Colton’s room. Everything else is…”—I wave my hand vaguely—“a work in progress.”

“Moving’s the worst.”

“Especially when you’re doing it mostly by yourself,” I add, then immediately regret it. I don’t want his pity.

Kade’s eyes flicker to me again. “I could help, you know. I’m pretty good at unpacking boxes.”

“I’ll bet,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “But we’re managing. Just takes time.”

He nods, not pushing it, and I’m grateful. The last thing I need is to feel indebted to Kade Santos. The skating lessons are already more than enough.

I glance back at Colton again, his face peaceful as he sleeps. “Tomorrow morning’s going to be fun. Getting him up for school is going to be like waking the dead.”

Kade laughs. “Sorry about that. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested this on a school night.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. “Some things are worth being tired from.”

The words linger in the air for a moment.

Kade glances over at me, a curious look on his face. “Do you remember how we used to stay up until midnight together every year on our birthdays?”

“Of course I remember,” I reply softly, a pang of nostalgia washing over me.

“We’d watch movies and eat junk food and count down to midnight with our sparkling apple cider like the ball was about to drop.

” I chuckle at the mental image of us huddled together on the old plaid couch in my mom’s den, the clock on the DVD player blinking 11:58, a pile of movies and an empty bag of Cheetos at our feet.

Every year, we made a pact to keep each other awake until the very second our birthdays began.

“And then we’d both pass out by 12:05, every time, without fail.” He laughs. “Gosh, I miss those days.”

“Me too,” I admit with a wistful smile. “Things were so much simpler back then.”

I briefly glance at him, noticing the hint of nostalgia in his eyes as well. It’s as if we’re both caught in a moment of shared history, a past that still lingers between us despite all the years that have gone by.

As we turn onto my street, I feel a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Part of me can’t wait to get away from this confusing proximity to Kade, but another part—a part I’m trying desperately to ignore—wishes the drive could last a little longer.

Kade pulls into my driveway and puts the truck in park. The headlights illuminate the modest rental I now call home. It’s nothing special—just a small three-bedroom with chipping paint and a slightly overgrown lawn—but the rent is reasonable, and it’s close to school. That’s all that matters.

“Well,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt, “thanks for the ride. And for inviting us tonight. It was—”

“Let me help you with him,” Kade interrupts, nodding toward the backseat where Colton remains fast asleep.

“Oh, that’s okay,” I say quickly. “I can wake him up.”

“He’s exhausted,” Kade points out. “And I’m right here. It’s no trouble.”

I hesitate, my instinct to refuse his help warring with practicality.

“Okay,” I relent. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Kade says, already opening his door and stepping out into the night.

I grab my purse and head toward my front porch, fishing for my keys as Kade opens the back door of his truck.

I watch as he gently unbuckles Colton’s seatbelt and scoops him up with ease.

Colton doesn’t even stir, just instinctively wraps his arms around Kade’s neck and nestles his head against his shoulder.

Something squeezes in my chest at the sight.

I push it away and focus on unlocking the front door. When I finally get it open, I step aside to let Kade carry Colton in.

“Sorry about the mess,” I mutter as Kade carefully maneuvers through the entryway, stepping around a stack of moving boxes. “We’re still kind of in transition.”

“No worries,” Kade says, his voice low to avoid waking Colton. “Which way to his room?”

“Second door down the hallway, on the right,” I direct, following close behind.

The hallway is narrow, forcing us to walk almost single file. I’m acutely aware of Kade’s broad shoulders, how they nearly fill the space, how I have to be careful not to bump into him as he carries Colton. It’s a strange intimacy, one I wasn’t prepared for when I agreed to let him help.

Kade pauses at Colton’s door, waiting for me to open it.

When I do, the soft glow from his nightlight spills into the hallway, illuminating his bedroom—the only truly finished room in the house.

Hockey posters cover the wall, and his bedspread features cartoon T.

rexes playing ice hockey. It would be comical if it weren’t so endearing.

Kade steps carefully over a scattering of Legos on the floor and gently lays Colton down on his bed. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, even as I slip off his shoes and pull his comforter over him.

“He sleeps like a rock,” Kade whispers, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Yeah,” I agree, brushing Colton’s hair from his forehead and kissing his cheek. “He could sleep through a fire alarm, I think,” I whisper as we back out of the room together.

I pull the door almost closed, leaving it open just a crack the way Colton likes it. Then we’re standing in the hallway,

“Thanks for your help,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself, the awkwardness between us suddenly amplified by the quietness of the house. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no problem,” Kade says before following me into the living room, his eyes scanning the chaos around us.

“Ignore my mess.” I let out a self-conscious laugh. “Between work, visiting my mom, and Colton’s activities … I unpack a box or two when I can, but…”

“It’s a lot to handle on your own,” he finishes for me.

I shrug, not wanting to admit how overwhelmed I sometimes feel. “We get by.”

Kade shifts his weight, hands sliding into his pockets. “Look, I meant what I said earlier. I’m happy to help out, if you want. I’m pretty handy, too. So if you need any furniture built or—”

“Kade, you’re already doing skating lessons,” I protest. “I can’ t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking,” he cuts in. “I’m offering. Big difference.”

I run a hand through my hair, torn between my stubborn independence and the reality that I could really use the help. “I don’t know…”

“Think about it,” Kade says, taking a step toward the front door. “No pressure. But the offer stands.”

I nod, following him to the door. “I will. And really, thank you for tonight. It meant a lot to Colton.”

“It meant a lot to me, too,” Kade says, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter. “I’m glad you guys could save me from a totally wasted night.”

I manage a small smile. “Well, your disaster date was our gain, I guess.”

He laughs, the sound dissolving some of the tension between us. “Definitely. Anyway, I should go. Let you get some rest.”

“Yeah,” I agree, even as something within me wants to ask him to stay, to help me unpack just one box, to sit with me on my couch and talk about nothing in particular. “Drive safe.”

“Always do,” he says with a grin that takes me straight back to high school, to stolen kisses in his truck and promises we were too young to keep.

I watch as he walks down my front path, the porch light casting long shadows behind him.

“Hey, Kade?” I call out as he’ s about to climb into his truck.

“Yeah?” He turns around.

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “Colton’s having a sleepover at Aaron’s Friday night. Would you … maybe want to come over and help me build my bookshelf? It’s from IKEA, and it’s got about a million screws…”

His eyes widen in surprise, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I’d love to,” he says without missing a beat. “Just let me know what time works for you.”

“Great. I’ll text you Friday.”

“Sounds good.” He grins and hops into his truck, the engine rumbling to life in the quiet night. I stay in the doorway until his taillights disappear, trying to ignore the way my heart feels a little lighter than it did before.

It’s only when I close the door that I realize I’m smiling.