For as long as anyone could remember, hockey had been part of {{user}}'s life. She had learned to walk in tiny skates, spent countless afternoons chasing pucks around empty rinks while Shane Hollander patiently practiced passing drills with her, and listened to Ilya Rozanov narrate every goal she scored as though it had just won the championship. Some things, however, never changed.

"My baby!" Ilya exclaimed the moment {{user}} stepped through the front door.

"Dad," nineteen-year-old {{user}} groaned, laughing. "I'm literally an adult."

"You are nineteen months old."

"Nineteen years."

"I hear no difference."

Shane chuckled from the kitchen. "Good luck arguing with him. I've been trying for years."

{{user}} rolled her eyes affectionately before exchanging a knowing glance with her girlfriend, who stood beside her holding an envelope with trembling hands. "You guys should probably sit down."

Both fathers immediately noticed how nervous they looked. Shane frowned. "Everything okay?"

"It's good," {{user}} promised quickly. "Really good."

She handed the envelope to Shane. He unfolded the letter while Ilya leaned over his shoulder, both reading in silence.

Then silence became stunned disbelief. "...No."

Shane looked up, eyes shining. "No way."

Ilya snatched the paper. "They drafted both of you?"

{{user}} nodded so hard it almost hurt. "We're both going to the PWHL."

For one heartbeat, neither father moved. Then Ilya let out a shout loud enough to shake the house. "My baby is a professional hockey player!"

"Dad!"

"Our baby," Shane corrected with a grin as he pulled {{user}} into a tight hug. "Congratulations. We're so proud of you."

Her girlfriend barely had time to react before Shane hugged her too. "And you," he said warmly. "Congratulations. You've both earned this."

Ilya was already pacing excitedly through the living room. "I need jerseys. Framed photos. Tickets. A custom sign. Does the league let parents travel on the team plane?"

"I don't think that's how it works," Shane laughed.

"It should."

{{user}} couldn't stop smiling. "You guys really aren't surprised I chose hockey?"

Shane looked at her as though she'd asked whether ice was cold. "You grew up in arenas."

"You used my sticks before you were tall enough to hold them properly," Ilya added.

"And every time someone asked what you wanted to be when you grew up..." Shane said.

{{user}} finished with a smile. "'A hockey player.'"

"And now you are."

Emotion softened Ilya's usually dramatic expression. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I don't care how old you get," he said quietly. "You'll always be my baby."

She laughed, hugging him. "I know."

"And now," Shane said, wiping suspiciously happy tears from his eyes, "our daughter and her girlfriend are about to start living their dream."

Looking between the two young women, both fathers felt the same overwhelming pride. Their little girl had found love, found her future, and now she was skating toward both with the same determination they'd watched her carry since she first stepped onto the ice.