Chapter 48 Family on the Road
The Fleet’s first road trip of the season took them west—three games in five days: Seattle, Portland, then a rematch in Denver against the expansion team. For Lily Kane, twenty-five and in her second pro year, road trips were routine now: chartered flights, hotel checklists, pre-game naps. But this one felt different.
Her family was coming along.
It started as a half-joke over summer dinner. “If you ever play in Denver,” Everett had said, “we’re all flying out. No excuses.”
Lily had laughed. “Deal.”
But when the schedule dropped and there it was—Fleet at Denver on a Saturday night—she texted the family chat: Tickets on me. Come?
The response was immediate chaos: Clara’s all-caps screaming emojis, Everett’s “OBVIOUSLY,” Holly’s string of hearts, Rowan’s simple “Booking flights now.”
They turned it into a full family adventure: flying into Seattle early, driving down the coast in a rented van, hitting every game.
Seattle first.
The arena was electric—new franchise, passionate fans. Lily’s line drew the start, and she assisted on the opening goal forty seconds in. The Fleet won 3-1, Lily adding an empty-netter for good measure.
After the game, her family waited in the tunnel—Everett now taller than most security guards, Clara in a custom Fleet jersey with “KANE” on the back, Rowan and Holly holding a sign that read “We followed the ice—and it led us to you.”
The hug was messy and long, Clara’s legs wrapped around Lily’s waist like she was still small.
Portland next.
A tighter game, ending in a shootout win. Lily scored the decider—roofing a backhand over the goalie’s glove. The bench erupted. Her phone blew up with family texts mid-celebration.
Then Denver.
The homecoming game.
The arena where she’d played four college years now hosted her as a visitor. The Pioneers’ faithful gave her a standing ovation during warmups, chanting “Ka-ane!” until she tapped her stick on the ice in thanks.
Her old coach met her at center ice for the ceremonial puck drop, hugging her tight and whispering, “Proud of you, kid.”
The game was fierce—old rivals, new stakes. Tied 2-2 late in the third, Lily’s line got the call. She carried the puck over the blue line, dropped a pass, cut to the net—and buried the go-ahead goal with 1:48 left.
The Fleet held on for the win.
After the final buzzer, Lily skated a slow lap, taking it all in: the arena she’d called home, the ice she’d grown up on in spirit, the family who’d driven every mile with her.
She stopped at center ice, looked up to where they sat—Rowan’s arm around Holly, Everett holding Clara up so she could wave—and tapped her heart twice.
The crowd gave her another ovation.
Back in the hotel that night, the family gathered in Rowan and Holly’s room: pizza boxes everywhere, Clara asleep on the couch in her jersey, Everett recounting every shift like a proud little brother.
Lily sat between her parents on the bed, head on Holly’s shoulder, Rowan’s hand resting on her knee.
“I keep thinking about the backyard rink,” she said softly. “How small it felt. And now… arenas like this.”
Holly’s voice was thick. “Same girl. Bigger ice.”
Rowan squeezed her knee. “Same heart.”
Everett looked up from his phone. “You’re gonna win the Cup this year. I’m calling it.”
Clara mumbled in her sleep, “Cup for Lil-eee.”
They all laughed quietly, tears in their eyes.
The drive home the next day was long and full of singing—old road-trip playlists, Clara asleep in the back, Everett and Lily arguing good-naturedly over who got the aux cord.
When they pulled into the Evergreen driveway at dusk, the house lights glowed warm and welcoming.
They unloaded in tired, happy silence, Clara carried inside still asleep, Everett hauling bags like he was already the big brother heading to college.
Later, after everyone was settled, Lily stood on the back deck looking at the rink—now grass again, but the boards still there, waiting for next winter’s flood.
Rowan joined her, two mugs of cocoa in hand.
“Feels different coming home now,” she said quietly.
He handed her a mug. “Feels the same to me. You’re here. That’s home.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching fireflies blink over the yard where three little kids had once chased pucks and dreams.
Inside, the house breathed with the soft sounds of family: Everett’s muffled laughter from his room, Clara’s gentle snores, Holly humming as she tidied the kitchen.
Lily leaned her head on her dad’s shoulder.
“Best road trip ever.”
Rowan kissed the top of her head. “Best company ever.”
In Evergreen Hollow, under a sky full of summer stars and the gentle promise of many more seasons to come, Lily Kane stood on the edge of her childhood backyard and felt the quiet certainty settle deep in her bones:
The ice would always call.
But home would always answer.