Chapter 42 Sibling Ice
The Kane siblings had always been close, but as the years stretched and life pulled them in different directions, the moments they stole together became treasures—small, shining, and full of the kind of love that only grows between people who’ve shared the same backyard rink, the same holiday dinners, and the same parents’ quiet pride.
One crisp February weekend, with Lily home for a rare long break between her pro rookie season in Boston and an upcoming international tournament, the three siblings decided to reclaim the backyard ice one last time before the spring thaw took it away.
Everett (seventeen now, broad-shouldered and voice fully changed, captain of his high-school varsity team) flooded the rink himself the night before, just like Rowan used to. Clara (twelve, all legs and fire, already turning heads on her travel team with a wrist shot that scouts whispered about) helped him smooth it with the hose, giggling when the water splashed her boots.
Lily arrived Friday night, fresh off a red-eye from Boston, still in her Fleet travel hoodie. She dropped her bag in the foyer and went straight to the backyard without even taking off her coat.
The rink lights glowed soft and familiar. Everett was testing the ice with a few shots; Clara was drawing hearts in the frost with her skate blade.
When they saw her, they both stopped.
For a second nobody spoke.
Then Clara launched herself across the ice, nearly tackling Lily in a hug that sent them both sprawling in laughter. Everett skated over more slowly, but his grin was huge.
“You’re home,” he said, voice cracking just a little.
Lily pulled him into the hug too. “Missed you idiots.”
They stayed out there until midnight—three siblings on the ice they’d grown up on, passing pucks and telling stories under the stars.
Clara, the baby who’d once needed double-runners to stay upright, now outskated both of them in tight circles, showing off crossovers she’d learned from YouTube and Lily’s old drills.
Everett, usually so serious on the ice these days with college scouts watching his every game, let loose—trying silly dekes and falling dramatically when Clara poke-checked him.
Lily just watched them for a long minute, eyes shining.
“You two got so big,” she said softly.
Clara stopped spinning. “You’re the one who’s a pro now.”
Lily shook her head. “I’m still just your annoying big sister who steals the bathroom.”
Everett laughed. “You still take forever in there.”
They played a loose game of two-on-one, Lily in net with no pads, letting Clara and Everett score ridiculous goals just to hear them cheer. When Clara finally roofed one top corner and did Lily’s old goal celebration—arms wide, spinning in circles—Lily felt tears prick hard.
Later, inside with hot chocolate and blankets on the couch, the three of them squeezed together like they were little again.
Clara leaned her head on Lily’s shoulder. “Tell us about Boston.”
Lily did: the roar of the new arena, the way the city felt alive with hockey history, the nerves of her first pro goal, the teammate who’d become her best friend.
Everett listened with wide eyes. “Do you ever get scared?”
“Every game,” Lily admitted. “But then I think about you two—how you look up to me—and I skate harder.”
Clara’s voice was small. “I want to be like you someday.”
Lily pulled her closer. “You already are. You’re braver than I was at twelve.”
Everett cleared his throat. “Scouts came to my last game. Said I’ve got D1 potential.”
Lily’s grin was huge. “That’s my little brother.”
They stayed up talking until the fire died down, sharing fears and dreams in the way only siblings can—without judgment, with total trust.
The next morning, they dragged Rowan and Holly out for a full family skate. Clara organized teams: girls versus boys. Everett protested it wasn’t fair, but he was grinning.
The game was pure joy: Clara stealing pucks from Everett and celebrating like she’d won the Cup, Lily letting Clara score on her repeatedly, Rowan “accidentally” falling to give Clara breakaways, Holly in net laughing so hard she could barely stand.
When the sun climbed high and the ice started to soften, they collapsed in a pile at center ice, breathless and happy.
Clara lay on her back staring at the sky. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
Everett reached over and squeezed her hand. “We kind of do. Even when we’re not together.”
Lily pulled them both into a hug. “Always. No matter where we go.”
Holly and Rowan stood at the boards watching, arms around each other, tears quiet on their cheeks.
That night, after dinner and movies and Clara finally asleep, the three siblings snuck back out to the rink one last time. The ice was slushy now, but they didn’t care.
They skated slow circles, holding hands like they had when Clara was tiny and needed help staying upright.
Everett spoke first, voice thick. “I’m gonna miss this when you’re both gone.”
Lily stopped, pulled him into a hug. “We’re never really gone. You’ll feel us every time you step on the ice.”
Clara joined the hug, small but fierce. “Family team forever.”
They stayed out there until the stars came out, three siblings on melting ice, holding each other tight against whatever came next.
Inside, Rowan and Holly watched from the kitchen window, hands linked, hearts full to breaking with the quiet, aching beauty of watching their children love each other so completely.
In Evergreen Hollow, under a sky full of stars and the soft promise of many more seasons to come, the Kane siblings held on to the ice—and to each other—a little longer.
Because some bonds, forged in backyard rinks and holiday lights and ordinary, perfect days, never really melt away.