Page 3 of Only Ever You

Sitting on the floor, I dig the puck out of my backpack and twirl it in my hand. I liked scoring those goals. I like being on the ice. I like being one with the team.

But I don’t like how the adults make it sound like all my accomplishments are because of Dad. I don’t like how they keep comparing me to him either.

A soft knock on the door stops my musings.

“Yeah?” I call out weakly, not sure I want anyone to see me in this state.

“Can I come in?”

A tight knot in my stomach loosens. It’s Isla, my best friend in the whole world. “Of course.”

As she steps into my room, her brown hair spills over her shoulders. Her cheeks are a bit red from the cold, like she just got here. She’s wearing a red Christmas sweater with a reindeer on the front, a black skirt, and black tights with white polka dots, and she’s holding a cookie wrapped in a napkin.

“Hey,” I say. “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

She lowers herself to the floor in front of me, and the smile that plays on her lips makes me grin at her in return. Just like it always does, her presence makes everything better, even my mood.

“Dad let me leave practice early so we could be here to celebrate your win,” she explains. “Are you okay? Why are you up here when everybody else is downstairs?”

I avert my gaze to the puck in my hand. “Yeah. I’m good. Just needed a break.”

“You played really well,” she tells me. “I didn’t see much of the game, but I snuck out of practice for a few minutes and saw your last goal.”

Warmth blooms in my cheeks. “Thanks.”

She holds out the cookie. “For you.”

I put the puck down and take the cookie.

“You’re not happy?” she asks quietly.

Chest squeezing, I blink. “Why do you think that?”

“You look like my dad when the Mustangs lose.”

“But we won.”

“I know.” She tilts her head. “So why do you look upset?”

With a shrug, I take a bite of the cookie. She doesn’t rush me, doesn’t ask more questions. She just waits.

“They gave me an MVP award.”

Her face splits into a smile. “Yeah, I saw. That’s awesome.”

“But when that announcer dude gave it to me, he only talked about my dad,” I admit, head hanging. “It made me feel like the goal wasn’t mine.”

“But it was yours. You’re the one who scored.”

I look up, meeting her deep blue eyes.

“And you were the one on the ice, not Uncle Colton. You were fast and brave. I bet you didn’t fall once.”

My throat does a weird tight thing, getting lighter like my chest did. I lower the cookie, afraid I won’t be able to swallow it.

Isla reaches over and takes my hand, her expression serious. “You’re amazing. And you would be even if your dad weren’t famous.”

Warmth spreads all over my skin. My shoulders aren’t that tense anymore, and my heart beats slower now. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”