Jace POV
I sat across from Ariana in the narrow library aisle, the emergency lights casting soft shadows around us. Snow kept falling heavy outside the tall windows, making the whole world feel far away. Her question still hung in the quiet between us.
“What does hockey actually mean to you?” she’d asked. Not the reporter version. Not the one I gave my dad. The real one.
I took a slow breath, rubbing my hands together like that could help me find the words. “It’s… different things at different times.”
She waited, patient, knees drawn up, watching me like nothing else in the world mattered right now. That look made it easier to keep going.
“When I was a kid,” I said, voice low, “we used to play pond hockey back home. Just me, Mike, and a couple other guys from the neighborhood. No coac
