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NIKA MÜHL (narrative and insta)
The arena was buzzing with excitement after Rylee's team pulled off another win. The crowd was thinning, but I stayed near the locker room entrance, leaning against the wall and watching her from a distance. Rylee was crouched on the other side of the rink, still in her gear, talking to a young girl who looked no older than five or six. The kid was practically vibrating with excitement, clutching a notepad in her tiny hands.
"You're my favorite player ever!" the girl exclaimed, bouncing on her toes.
Rylee's laugh carried over to me, warm and full of life. "Your favorite, huh? That's a big deal. I guess I'll have to keep playing my best for you."
The girl giggled, and Rylee signed her notepad with a flourish, adding a little smiley face next to her name. She handed it back, ruffling the girl's hair. "Do you play hockey?"
"Yeah!" the girl said eagerly. "I'm a center, like you!"
"Center, huh? That's awesome! Keep working hard, and maybe someday I'll come watch you play."
The girl gasped, her jaw dropping in disbelief, and her parents chuckled softly from a few feet away. Rylee gave her a wink. "Just don't forget to have fun. That's the most important part."
The girl scampered back to her parents, clutching her notepad like it was a treasure, her eyes still wide with wonder. Rylee stood up slowly, stretching her legs. She caught my eye across the rink and flashed me a quick grin before turning to sign a few more autographs.
I stayed where I was, leaning against the wall, unable to stop watching her. She had this way about her—a way of making people feel like they mattered, like they were the only person in the world. It wasn't just on the ice where she was a star. It was in these little moments, connecting with people, that she truly shone.
And I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if we had someone like that in our lives. Someone smaller. Someone who might look up at Rylee the same way that little girl had—with awe, admiration, and so much love. I could see it so clearly: Rylee kneeling down to tie a tiny pair of skates, or chasing a giggling kid around the backyard with a mini hockey stick. I could hear the laughter, feel the warmth of that future.
My heart clenched, caught between longing and fear. Why am I even thinking about this? I wasn't the sentimental type—or at least, I never thought I was. But with Rylee, everything felt different. She had this way of planting ideas in my head without even trying. And now, as I watched her laughing and joking with her fans, all I could think about was what it would be like to build a life with her.
Not just this—the stolen moments, the kisses we hadn't yet defined, the quiet understanding between us. But something more. A family. A future.
Rylee finally finished signing autographs and headed my way, her skates clinking softly against the concrete floor. Her cheeks were flushed from the game, her hair a little wild under her helmet, and her jersey hung loose over her gear. She had that same confident stride, the one that always made her look like she belonged exactly where she was.
