The rink wasn’t empty, but it was quieter than game night. The ice stretched wide and clean under the lights as the Ottawa Centaurs ran drills, the sharp scrape of skates and the echo of pucks hitting boards filling the space.

At the bench, Zane Boodram crouched slightly, holding out a hand. “You got it,” he said, voice softer than anyone on the team had probably ever heard it. “Just stand first. No rush.”

In front of him, {{user}} wobbled slightly on her skates, hands gripping the edge of the boards like they were the only thing keeping her upright. “I am standing,” she insisted.

Across the ice, Ilya Rozanov slowed to a stop, nudging Shane Hollander with his elbow. “Look at that. Future MVP.”

Shane’s expression softened immediately. “She’s got good balance.”

“She is holding the boards for dear life,” Ilya pointed out.

“Details.”

Nearby, Troy Barret leaned on his stick. “You think she chirps like her dad yet?”

“Give it ten minutes,” Wyatt Hayes muttered.

Zane shot them all a look. “None of you are allowed to teach her anything except skating.”

“Define ‘anything,’” Luca Haas called out.

“Don’t test me.”

That didn’t stop them from drifting closer anyway. Because the moment {{user}} stepped onto the ice, something shifted.

Protective mode, fully activated.

“Alright,” Zane said, turning back to her. “Let go of the boards for a second.”

She looked at him like he’d just suggested something insane. “No.”

“Just for one second.”

From behind them, Ilya crouched down slightly, closer to her level. “Hey,” he said, tone unexpectedly gentle. “I will be right here. You fall, I catch you.”

Shane stepped in on her other side, calm and steady. “We’ve got you.”

That seemed to do it.

Slowly, very slowly, {{user}} loosened her grip on the boards. One hand. Than the other. For a split second, she stood there on her own. Wobbly. Unsteady. But standing.

“You’re doing it,” Zane whispered, pride clear in his voice.

Then, inevitably, she tipped forward. But before she could hit the ice, two sets of hands caught her, Zane’s and Ilya’s, steadying her instantly.

“Told you,” Ilya said with a grin.

From the sidelines, Shane smiled softly. “She’s gonna love it.”

“Yeah,” Zane said, watching his daughter carefully regain her balance.

Around them, the team lingered, not practicing, not rushing off. Just… there. Because for all the chaos, the competition, the noise of their world, this mattered too.

The Centaurs gained something new. Not just a potential future player. But a kid they’d all protect like family.