Chapter 36 Crimson Horizons
Junior year at the University of Denver found Lily Kane exactly where she belonged: on the ice, in the classroom, and somewhere in the beautiful, exhausting middle of becoming the woman she was meant to be.
The Pioneers’ women’s hockey team had moved up to a more competitive conference, and practices started at 5:45 a.m. most days. Lily’s alarm went off at 5:00, and she rolled out of bed in the dark, pulling on layers against the Colorado chill. Her roommate, Sophie—a goalie from Minnesota—groaned from the top bunk, but they were both out the door by 5:20, breath fogging in the crisp air as they walked to Magness Arena.
Mornings were ice time: drills, scrimmages, video review. Lily had earned a permanent spot on the first line, often centering between two seniors who treated her like a little sister. The coach trusted her with power-play minutes and penalty kills, and she thrived on the responsibility.
After practice came breakfast in the team dining hall—oatmeal, eggs, and endless banter—then classes. Lily’s schedule was packed: Advanced Sports Marketing, Ethics in Business, Statistics, and a seminar on Women in Leadership. She loved the challenge, scribbling notes in the margins of her textbooks and raising her hand more often than she had as a freshman.
Afternoons brought study hall (mandatory for the team), weight room sessions, or physiotherapy if anyone was nursing bumps and bruises. Evenings were homework, team film, or the occasional group dinner at a teammate’s off-campus apartment.
Weekends meant games—sometimes home under the bright arena lights, sometimes long bus rides to Montana or Arizona. Lily kept a running group chat with her family, sending photos after every win: sweaty post-game selfies, the scoreboard, Clara’s favorite—the one where she held the game puck aloft like a trophy.
The losses were harder. A tough weekend series against a rival left the team quiet on the bus ride home, and Lily stared out the window feeling the familiar weight of “not good enough.” She called home that night, voice small.
Rowan answered on the second ring. “Hey, Captain.”
“I let in a bad goal on the penalty kill,” she said. “Coach benched me for the third.”
Rowan’s voice was steady. “One shift doesn’t define you. You know that.”
Holly got on the extension. “We’re proud of you no matter the scoreboard, baby.”
Everett shouted in the background, “Tell her I scored twice today and it’s because of her drills!”
Clara added a loud “GO LIL-EEE!”
Lily laughed through tears she hadn’t realized were falling. By the time she hung up, the weight felt lighter.
Off-ice life was rich too.
She joined a business club that met weekly to pitch startup ideas, and her Heartstrings-inspired presentation on “authentic branding in sports” earned her a mentorship with a local agency. She volunteered with a youth hockey program for underprivileged girls, teaching skating on Saturday mornings and seeing her own eight-year-old self in their wide eyes.
Friendships deepened. Her teammate circle was tight—late-night study sessions, coffee runs, and the occasional karaoke night where Lily’s off-key rendition of “Sweet Caroline” became legend. She dated briefly—a nice guy from her statistics class—but it fizzled gently when both realized their schedules left no room for more than friendly study dates.
Homesickness came in waves, especially around holidays. She flew home for Thanksgiving and cried happy tears when Clara ran to her at the airport shouting “My Lil-eee!” Everett had grown another inch and challenged her to one-on-one in the driveway, losing spectacularly but grinning the whole time.
Christmas break was two full weeks of pure family. They decorated the tree together, Everett hanging the new Pioneers ornament Lily brought home. Clara insisted on “helping” with lights and mostly succeeded in tangling them. Rowan and Holly watched from the couch, hands linked, feeling the house breathe full again.
One quiet night near the end of break, Lily found her parents in the kitchen wrapping last-minute gifts.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, sitting at the island.
They looked up, concerned.
“I’m thinking about declaring for the pro draft after next season,” she said. “If I have a good senior year. The new women’s league is expanding, and scouts have started coming to games.”
Holly’s eyes filled instantly. Rowan’s hand tightened on hers.
“That’s… huge,” Rowan managed.
Lily nodded. “I’m not sure yet. I love school. I love the team. But I want to see how far I can go.”
Holly stood and pulled her into a hug. “Whatever you choose, we’ll be in the stands.”
Rowan joined them, wrapping both his girls in his arms. “Proud of you, Captain. Always.”
Spring semester brought new challenges and joys.
A minor ankle sprain sidelined her for two weeks—an injury that tested her patience and taught her the value of rest. She used the time to dive deeper into her NIL cohort work, presenting virtually to NCAA committees and earning a summer extension offer.
She made dean’s list again, took on a leadership role as team alternate captain, and helped organize a mental health awareness event for athletes on campus—something close to her heart after watching younger teammates struggle.
Romantically, nothing serious bloomed, but she was content. Late-night talks with Sophie about life after hockey, coffee dates with friends, and the occasional flirtation at team parties were enough.
The season ended with a conference championship appearance—falling short in the final, but earning respect and experience. Lily finished with twenty-eight points, second on the team, and a quiet confidence that this was only the beginning.
Summer brought her home again, interning remotely for Heartstrings and helping Rowan with youth camps. She coached Everett’s team one afternoon, showing the kids moves she’d learned in Denver, and watched Clara skate circles around cones with fierce determination.
One August evening, the family sat on the porch watching fireflies. Lily leaned against Holly’s shoulder.
“College is hard,” she said softly. “But it’s good hard. Like the kind that makes you better.”
Rowan reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re doing amazing, kiddo.”
Everett piped up from the grass, “When I go to college, I’m going to Denver too. So I can beat your records.”
Lily laughed. “Challenge accepted.”
Clara, half-asleep on Rowan’s lap, murmured, “Me too. All Denver.”
Holly smiled, heart full. Twenty years ago, a fake mistletoe kiss had started everything. Now, under the same summer stars, their children were writing the next chapters—on far-away ice, in growing hearts, and in the quiet certainty of home.
In Evergreen Hollow, with the rink lights glowing soft in the distance, the Kane family looked toward new horizons—together, always together.