Timothy's POV
She's faster than I remembered. Way faster.
The puck drops and Penelope wins the face-off clean, threading a pass to her left wing before I can react. Few months ago, she would have fumbled that play. Tonight, she executes it like a seasoned professional.
"f**k," I mutter, chasing her down the ice.
The crowd's on their feet as Bloodfang carries the puck into our zone. Penelope moves weaving between defenders with an agility that makes my chest tight.
She's not the timid girl who used to watch practices from the stands. That Penelope would hover near the glass, clutching a thermos of hot chocolate with mittened hands, too shy to wave when I looked her way. She used to flinch when other players got too close, used to duck her head when people yelled.
This version of Penel
