Chapter 62: Best Day Ever

Anna's POV

I submit the last page with a click that feels louder than it should. Done. Leith School of Art—final paperwork sent, portfolio uploaded, recommendation letters attached, personal statement polished down to the bone. My name sits at the top of the screen like it belongs there, like this dream has been waiting patiently for me to claim it.

Four months.

That’s all that stands between now and summer. Between here and Europe. Between excitement and the knot tightening in my chest.

Because four months are also part of Marcus’s timeline.

Surgery. Physiotherapy. Rehab. Strength rebuilding. Uncertainty.

I close my laptop and let my forehead rest against it for a moment, guilt washing over me in a slow, heavy wave. I want this—God, I want this—but I also want to be here. With him. Every step. Every frustrating setback. Every small victory. Love shouldn’t feel like choosing. And yet. I grab my coat and head for the rink.

The air outside is sharp, winter still clinging stubbornly to the edges of everything, and my breath fogs as I walk. I tell myself Marcus just asked me to meet him there. No explanation. Just a smiley face and a “trust me.”

I should know better by now that “trust me” from Marcus McKay never means simple.

The rink doors creak open, and warmth rushes to meet me—along with the familiar scent of ice, rubber, and something faintly sweet.

I take two steps inside. Then stop. A gasp slips out before I can stop it. The rink is glowing. Not harsh overhead lights or sterile brightness, but soft, twinkling lights strung along the boards, looping up the railings, reflecting off the ice like scattered stars. Red and pink balloons float gently at the edges, anchored in clusters that sway slightly in the cool air. Even the usually imposing rink feels… gentle. Transformed.

My heart stutters.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “I’m definitely not prepared for this.”

Before I can take another step, the door to the tunnel opens. And there he is.

Marcus steps out slowly, his brace visible beneath his jeans, his movements careful—but his smile? That smile is whole. Unbreakable. In one hand, he holds a cupcake, vanilla frosting piled high and topped with a single sparkler that crackles softly, sending tiny bursts of light into the air. In his other hand is a heart-shaped sign, slightly crooked, unmistakably handmade.

Happy Valentine’s Day. My hands fly to my mouth.

“Oh my God,” I breathe.

He chuckles, a little shy despite the spectacle. “You’re supposed to walk closer, so this looks less like I’m proposing to the air.”

I laugh, tears already stinging my eyes, and move toward him, my boots echoing softly against the concrete.

“You did all this?” I ask, gesturing wildly around us.

He shrugs one shoulder. “With some help. Damian strung the lights. Peter threatened to sabotage everything unless I let him choose the balloons.”

“That explains the extra glittery ones,” I say weakly.

Marcus grins. “Courtney approved.” Of course she did.

He holds the cupcake out to me. “Make a wish.”

I shake my head, overwhelmed. “I already used mine today.”

He softens at that. “Leith?”

I nod. “Submitted everything. It’s real now.”

“Then this one’s for us,” he says gently.

I lean in and blow out the sparkler. Smoke curls upward, carrying something light with it—fear, maybe. Or doubt. Before I can say anything else, Marcus reaches behind him and pulls out a helmet.

I blink. “Is that—”

“A Zamboni helmet,” he confirms proudly. “Safety first.”

I stare at him. “You did not.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.”

He takes my hand, warm and steady. “Come on.”

We walk out onto the ice—not skating, just stepping carefully along a cleared path—and I laugh breathlessly, the rink stretching out around us like a private universe. The Zamboni sits at the far end, polished and waiting like a promise.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him as he helps me climb up.

“And yet,” he says, settling beside me, “you’re smiling.”

He’s right. My face hurts from it. The engine hums to life, low and soothing, and as we start moving, the world slows. The lights blur softly. The ice gleams beneath us, smooth and endless. I lean into Marcus instinctively, my head resting against his shoulder.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” I murmur.

He kisses the top of my head. “Good. Because I was aiming for unforgettable.”

We ride in comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle motion rocking us, the rink belonging only to us. Then the guilt creeps back in.

“Marcus,” I say quietly.

He hums in response.

“Summer’s coming fast.”

“I know.”

“My internship—your rehab—it’s all happening at the same time.”

He shifts slightly so he can look at me. “Hey.”

I meet his eyes, searching.

“You’re allowed to want this,” he says firmly. “All of it.”

“I want to be here for you,” I admit. “I don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t,” he interrupts softly. “Not for a second.”

The Zamboni glides along the boards, lights reflecting off his eyes, turning them almost silver.

“You being happy,” he continues, “being fulfilled, chasing what you love—that’s not leaving me behind. That’s walking beside me.”

Tears slip free despite my best effort.

“And besides, remember I met a Straubing scout,” he says casually, almost proudly.

I pull back, eyes wide. “Right! You absolutely did!”

“Yeah. He saw my notes. Talked about sports science. About options.”

Hope flares, bright and sudden.

“Marcus—”

He smiles, quieter now. “My future didn’t end with my knee, Anna. It just changed shape.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re really okay?”

“I am,” he says. “Because I’m not alone.”

The Zamboni slows to a stop near center ice. Marcus turns fully toward me, taking my hands in his. “No matter where summer takes us—Europe, rehab centers, airports, time zones—we’re still us.”

I squeeze his fingers. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We always do.”

He leans in, forehead resting against mine, the rink glowing around us like a held breath. As we climb down from the Zamboni, Marcus laughs and says, “So, cupcake later?”

I grin through my tears. “Definitely.”

And as we walk off the ice hand in hand, surrounded by lights and possibility, I know one thing with absolute certainty:

This isn’t just the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.

It’s the beginning of something brave.