Page 160 of Wild Card 13

Niko looked at him.

Ty pointed at Alois. “He hasn’t moved in four minutes. Honestly, I’m getting concerned.”

“I am notnotcomfortable,” Alois said.

Niko laughed.

It was small and wet and startled, but it was there.

Ty did not look toward the cameras. He did not look toward the spectator section. He did not even look toward me at first. He kept his attention on Niko and waited while the boy reached for the earmuffs.

Niko put them on crookedly.

Ty’s smile softened into something almost unendurable. “There you go,” he said. “Müller’s jealous.”

Niko sniffed. “Can I sit too?”

Ty nodded. “Absolutely.”

The rink exhaled.

Niko’s mother pressed both hands to her mouth behind the boards. Tina stood beside her, one arm around Theo’s shoulders. Theo watched Ty like he was recalculating something.

I watched Ty Burns kneeling on the ice with his phone nowhere in sight, his attention steady, his humor gentle instead of loud. I watched him make room for a child’s fear without trying to defeat it. I watched him become exactly what the moment needed and nothing more.

The wall inside me did not collapse.

It did something worse.

It opened.

Only enough for light to get through.

When Niko finally chose to move again, Ty did not touch the sled. He let the volunteer and Niko’s mother handle what needed handling. He skated backward slowly, giving Niko space, talking just enough to keep him oriented. Alois rose with the controlled effort of a man who had chosen dignity and lost to basic physics, then moved beside them in silence.

From behind me, Ruth whispered, “That boy.”

I did not know if she meant Niko or Ty. I did not ask. I couldn’t.

The rest of the event kept moving, but something in me had shifted off its axis.

I still answered radio calls. Still redirected the sponsor photographer twice. Still checked the rotation times, adjusted the meet-and-greet order, and made sure the quiet room stayed quiet. Ezra came down midway through the second rotation and stood beside me near the gate, his suit jacket open, his expression softer than he probably realized.

“You built this out of a mess,” he said.

I kept my eyes on the ice. “A lot of people helped.”

“I know.” His shoulder brushed mine. “But you led it.”

My throat tightened.

He looked out at the children moving across the ice, at Bea managing media, at Freya laughing with a volunteer, at Ty circling wide around Niko while Alois stood guard without making it look like guarding.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” His hand touched my shoulder briefly, then he left me to it.

The event neared its final rotation with cheeks flushed, parents smiling too hard, and the spectator section full of quiet conversations, coffee, folded blankets, and Burns family gravity.

I found Ty near the far boards after he helped Eli return a stick to the equipment table. “You did well,” I said.