SERAPHINA’S POV
By the time we left the rink, the air had cooled for the evening. The parking lot lights glimmered against the polished hoods of parked cars, and a gentle breeze teased strands of my hair.
Daniel bounced between us, his cheeks still flushed from the game, his grin brighter than the neon glow of the café sign.
“That was awesome!” he declared for what must’ve been the fifth time, playing hopscotch on the thin line between exuberance and chaos. “Did you see that last move, Mom? Dad passed the puck and—boom! Goal!”
Kieran chuckled from beside me, and I was a little too aware of his warmth sinking into my side.
“I did,” I said, my grin almost as wide as Daniel’s. “You were super impressive, baby.”
Maxwell’s laughter boomed from behind us. “You two make quite the team,” he said, catching up with Noah and Zach in tow. The boys looked winded but grinning, their hair sticking to their foreheads.
