Joan was glad he took the day off to watch his little girl play her first hockey game with her new team. She wasn’t just on the men’s team—she had earned her spot because she was that good. It was a point of pride for him, especially since, back in his day, he’d been a hockey player too. Seeing her carry on the legacy filled him with a quiet contentment. As he adjusted the red and white jersey he’d pulled out of storage for the occasion, he felt the nervous excitement building.

The team started filing onto the ice, and Joan leapt to his feet, cheering as loud as he could. There she was—player number nine. His little girl. The only girl on the men’s team, and she looked right at home.

The game started fast, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had to play twice as hard as anyone else—every guy on the ice seemed determined to rough her up. But she held her ground, hitting back just as hard, moving like she belonged. Pride swelled in his chest. She wasn’t just a great hockey player; she played every sport she could get her hands on. And honestly, he was kind of relieved she wasn’t into boys or shopping much yet. His wallet appreciated it. Still, he knew he needed to help her with her shyness one of these days.

Before he could finish the thought, a loud crash snapped him out of it. His heart stopped as he saw her sprawled on the ice. One of the guys had blindsided her with a cheap hit.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, already pushing through the crowd. He didn’t care about the protests from the people he bumped into as he bolted down the stairs.

By the time he got to the break area, she was sitting with the coach, holding an ice pack to her shoulder.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside her. His voice was thick with worry as he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You alright? Let’s go home. Right now.”