“What were you thinking?” Ally demanded, tugging Reggie’s seatbelt to make sure it was secure before starting up the car. “Does Aunt Clarissa know?”

Clarissa Finch was Ally’s best friend and the only close connection they had in Buffalo—a woman whom Ally credited with keeping her alive during the darkest days of her life.

She was also the senior account manager at Seton Mack Associates, the firm that handled public relations for the Buffalo Tempest. Clarissa must’ve mentioned the hockey clinic in passing when she was over at the house a couple weeks ago, but Ally barely remembered—she’d been too focused on unpacking and getting their kitchen organized and trying not to freak out about the fact that she’d just moved across the country. She was pretty sure Reggie hadn’t shown any interest, either.

Just proves how far out of the loop you are about your own kid…

“I don’t know,” Reggie finally said.

“Did you see her today?” Ally pulled out her phone, but there weren’t any missed calls or texts from Clarissa; she would’ve given Ally a heads up for sure.

“She wasn’t there. Just some volunteers in the morning, then us kids and the coaches, and a couple of parents who came at the end to support their kids.”

Ally felt a little sting in her gut at that, but she dismissed it. It was easy to support your kid, to let her follow her heart right over all kinds of cliffs when you still believed there was a safety net at the bottom. Ally knew better.

“What if Clarissa had been there?” she asked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Did you think about how this might make her look? How it could affect her job?”

Another shrug. “I just wanted to play hockey again. It’s got nothing to do with Aunt Clar.”

“Reg, if you were interested in the clinic, why didn’t you say anything to me sooner?”

“Why do you think, Mom?” Reggie folded her arms across her chest and turned her face away, staring out the window like she was looking for a good place to jump out. “God, you make a big freaking drama out of everything.”

“This isn’t everything. This is your health and safety we’re talking about. What if you’d gotten hurt out there today?”

“I didn’t. Just like I never got hurt all the other times I played.”

“But you could have.”

“I could’ve had fun, too. But thank God you showed up in time to make sure nothing crazy like actual fun happened.”

Actual fun? Ally barely knew the meaning of the phrase anymore.

Leaving the arena behind, she pulled onto the highway, merging into the afternoon traffic. Her new boss had been understanding about the family emergency, told her to take as much time as she needed. Ally had planned to drop Reggie at home and go back to work, but she didn’t see that happening now. She didn’t trust Reggie not to escape again, to wander into some other dangerous situation Ally wouldn’t be able to protect her from.

Yes, she realized how overprotective and crazy she sounded.

But no, she didn’t care. This was her daughter. Her heart. Her entire world.

After five minutes of silence, Reggie finally piped up again, and Ally braced herself for the next phase of the nagging campaign that was sure to come.

“You know that guy, Roscoe LeGrand?” Reggie asked. “He’s the starting left winger for the Buffalo Tempest. He’s basically famous.”

“Is that so?”

“If you weren’t so busy flirting with him, you might—”

“I wasn’t flirting with him,” she said. Was I? She replayed their conversation in her mind. She’d definitely felt a little spark when he grabbed her arms on the ice, and yes, had a momentary lapse in judgment when she’d started fantasizing about his abs, but that was not flirting. “We were just making conversation. Mostly about you.”

Ignoring this, Reggie said, “This is his first year as team captain, and he’s in charge of all of us. He tied the league last year in assists with his right winger, Kyle Henderson, but they call him Henny. Walker Dunn is the center. He wasn’t there today, but he’s supposed to join up later. And there’s a special skating coach that used to be in the Olympics—Eva Bradshaw? Now she works for the team, but I don’t think she’s doing any of the clinic stuff. Oh, and she’s getting married to Walker. They have a daughter and a big dog, too. His name is Bilbo Baggins. Cute, right?”

Ally laughed. “How on earth do you know all of this?”

“Interviews and stuff. They were featured in Sports Today last year. But Roscoe LeGrand? He’s, like, amazing. You should’ve seen this one shot he made today. Some of the asshole boys acted like they weren’t impressed, but they totally were.”

“Language.” Ally sighed. This was Reggie’s typical strategy—when her persuasion techniques failed, she moved on to the facts, proving she’d done her homework. Ally didn’t bother asking for more details—Reggie would share every last one without prompting.

Too bad they wouldn’t help. Not with this.

“He’s really good, Mom.”

“I’m sure Mr. LeGrand is great at his job, baby,” Ally said, remembering his easy confidence on the ice, the lightning-fast reflexes that had saved her from an embarrassing fall. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Hockey is dangerous. And—”

“Then why did you let Dad take me all those times?”

Ally knew it was coming, but the mention of Dan still felt like an arrow to the heart.

He’d always been a huge hockey fan. He played in college—not for a career aspiration, but for fun. After they got married and settled down in Colorado, he’d gotten season tickets for the Colorado Wolves every year. As soon as Reggie was old enough, he’d started taking her to the home games, too. For the away games, the two of them had this whole ritual, dressing up in their team jerseys and lucky ball caps, ordering their “winning” pizza—half peppers and mushrooms, half ham and pineapple—camping out in front of the big-screen TV until the end.

Dan had bought Reggie her first pair of skates, as well as her last. He’d taught her everything he knew about the game, and they’d played together whenever they could, indoors and outside, even in the dead of winter. She’d even petitioned her middle school, with Dan’s backing, to let her play on the boys’ intramural team in seventh grade.

She’d been better than all of them.

But Reggie hadn’t played in years. She’d packed up all of her hockey stuff the winter after Dan’s death, and as far as Ally had known, hadn’t picked up her stick since.

Clearly, Ally had missed something.

“I wish Dad was still around to play with you,” Ally said gently, taking a chance and squeezing Reggie’s knee, “but he isn’t. I have to be both parents now, and that means making the best decisions I can—by myself. My first priority is to keep you safe and healthy, and I don’t feel like I can do that if you’re out on the ice with all those kids when I can’t be there to keep an eye on you.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you took that stupid job.”

Another arrow, one Ally was certain would become a staple in Reggie’s arsenal in the months and years to come. Ally had only been working full time for a three days—a marketing assistant and graphic design position in a boutique marketing firm Clarissa had connected her with when they’d arrived in town last month—and already Reggie resented her. Not that Ally could blame the kid. For her entire childhood, Ally had devoted herself to motherhood, to making a home and life for her husband and daughter, happily putting her art and design dreams on the back burner.

After Dan died, she and Reggie had slipped under the fog together, huddling close and hoping it would pass. Now that they were starting to emerge again, everything was different. New town, new house, new school for Reggie this fall, and Ally was entering the full-time workforce. It had to be hard for Reggie to adjust to their new reality, but what choice did Ally have? Dan’s insurance money and the settlement they’d received from his company wouldn’t last forever. And as much as it’d felt like the world ended when he died, it hadn’t. Ally and Reggie had to keep on living. Keep on planning and saving. Keep on existing. And existing? It cost a lot of money, even when it sucked.

“You know I’d rather be home with you than anywhere else in the world.” Ally squeezed Reggie’s knee again. “Things are different now. We both have to make sacrifices if we want things to work out.”

Reggie inched away, pulling the long blond curtain of her hair in front of her face. “If this is your idea of things working out, I feel sorry for you.”

Me too, kiddo. Me too.

Minutes ticked on as they scooted down the highway, Reggie staring out the window again, jaw clenched, arms locked across her chest like her own personal bulletproof vest.

The silence was so all-consuming, Ally thought it would swallow them both. But then Reggie tucked her hair behind her ear, turned those pretty blue eyes toward her mother, and said, “If you hate hockey, why were you flirting with Roscoe LeGrand, anyway?”

Ally clucked her tongue. “I told you, I was not flirting.”

“Okay, cougar.”

“Cougar?” Ally laughed, relieved to see Reggie crack a smile of her own. “I’m not older than him. At least not that much.” She flicked her gaze up to the rearview mirror. So her eyeliner was a little smudged, and fine, maybe she had a few more lines around her mouth than she used to, a few more gray hairs—grays that had Reggie’s name all over them. But she didn’t look old. Did she?

“Well, how old is he, anyway?” Ally asked casually.

“Oh my God. Gross.”

“It’s just a question! You’re the one who studied his bio.”

“Like you care about his bio,” Reggie said, her tone a little lighter. “I saw the way you were looking at him. Falling into his arms when you slipped on the ice—nice move, by the way.”

“It was an accident.”

“Mom. The entire time I’ve been alive, you’ve never once gone near the ice. Ever. You’re, like, pathological about it.”

“It’s slippery!”

“Mmm-hmm.” Reggie smirked. “But one look at Mr. LeGrand, and you’re practically pirouetting out to him. You know what that’s called, right? A meet-cute. You totally met-cute him, and soon you’ll be drawing his name in your notebook with little hearts around it. Ally and Roscoe for evah!”

Ally cracked up at that, the tension in the car finally easing. She exited the highway and threaded through the stop-and-go streets that led to their neighborhood in North Buffalo, not far from the Buffalo Zoo. At the next stop light, she stole another glance at her daughter. Reggie was still looking out the window, but she’d finally relaxed her arms.

Progress.

“We should check out the zoo this weekend,” Ally said. “See if we can track down that strange animal.” They could hear it screeching late at night, when the windows were open and the rest of the neighborhood was asleep. The first night in their new house, they’d stayed up until three in the morning, sitting on the front porch in their bathrobes with hot ciders, counting the minutes between screeches. Reggie had wanted to sneak over to the zoo right then, peek through the iron gates with flashlights and binoculars.

“With your new boyfriend?” Reggie asked.

“Someone’s been watching a few too many rom-coms,” Ally teased.

“You’re right, actually,” she said. “Netflix is turning my brain to mush, not to mention ruining my eyes. I really should get involved in a sport or something.”

“When did we get Netflix?”

“I signed us up a few weeks ago. Honestly, Mom, I’d rather be playing hockey. You know—getting some exercise, building team spirit, challenging myself. I’ll totally cancel the Netflix subscription if you let me back on the ice.”

Ah, so we’re on to phase three of the nagging campaign: bargaining.

“You know I can’t do that, honey bunch.”

“Why?” Reggie’s voice cracked, fresh tears choking her words. “And don’t say it’s dangerous. I could get eye strain and bulging disks from watching movies on my laptop. I could get murdered on the way to school. I could fall and hit my head in gym class. Or get attacked at the monkey house at the zoo. Or get heat stroke in this very car, or—”

“Regina Heinz.” Ally clenched the steering wheel, her fingers turning white. “Are you trying to get yourself locked in your room until you're fifty?”

“Locked in my room? Mom!” Reggie put her hand to her heart, her gasp loud and dramatic. “What if the house burns down, and the firemen can’t get to me because you locked me in? What kind of a mother would do that to her own flesh and blood?”

And just like that, their momentary peace evaporated.

“Forget hockey,” Ally grumbled. “You should go to law school. You’ve got an argument for everything.”

“I wouldn’t need arguments if you’d just let me play like a normal person. You know that, right?”

Ally sighed, her entire body so suddenly weary, she wanted to close her eyes, let go of the wheel, and fall asleep for an entire year.

She didn’t, though. Didn’t let go, didn’t collapse, didn’t scream until her vocal chords gave out. She couldn’t; as a mother, she didn’t have the luxury of giving up.

Instead, she took a deep breath into her belly, channeled her inner calm, and pulled into their driveway. She let the car idle a moment, then shut off the ignition, reaching for her purse. Tucked inside was a framed photo of her and Dan with the last note he’d ever written her, its wooden frame small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. The picture was taken at the wedding of one of his colleagues a few months before he died, and the two of them looked so happy and carefree. It was her favorite picture, even more precious than her own wedding photos, because it captured the two of them so perfectly. She’d spent so many nights tracing her fingers over the glass that she could see the image without even looking, and now she closed her eyes and felt for the frame’s hard edges through the leather of her purse, seeking strength. Guidance. Anything to get her through this.

In a soft voice she said, “I know you enjoyed playing hockey with Dad when you were younger—”

“Not everything is about Dad,” Reggie snapped, but beneath her anger, the words lacked conviction. Everything was about him, and they both knew it. His death had shattered their family in ways they hadn’t even begun to deal with. She could only imagine how it was for Reggie, but Ally couldn’t go more than an hour without thinking of him, without something calling her right back to the gaping void he’d left behind: the picture, a song, a scent, a ringtone, the taste of his favorite ice cream, a single athletic sock with a hole in the toe showing up in the laundry as if it had been tucked away in a pocket until just that moment. Clarissa always said it was like Dan stopping by to say hello, to let them know he was with them. But Ally knew it was just coincidence. Just a collection of painful reminders that she and Reggie had lost the most important man in their life.

Ally opened her eyes, looking back at Reggie through a glaze of fresh tears.

“Please?” Reggie asked again, her big blue eyes yet another reminder of her father. “Can I just do this for the summer? I won’t play during school. It’s just a couple of months, and I’ll never ask you for anything again. Please?”

Desperation laced her words, so deep and all-consuming Ally almost—almost—gave in.

But she couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it, even if it meant Reggie would hate her for the entire year. Ally would much rather have a daughter who hated her than a daughter in the cemetery.

Ally took another deep breath and dashed the tears from her cheeks, remembering something she’d read in one of her self-help books for young widows: Death sure has a funny way of sucking the fun out of life.

Ally reached over to tuck Reggie’s hair behind her ear, her palm cradling Reggie’s baby-soft cheek. When Ally spoke again, her voice was as weak and watery as her bones. “I’m sorry, Reg. But the answer is still no.”