Chapter 1

"Evelyn, I have to go right now. Ashley and Carter got into a car accident!"

Brad scrambled frantically to unbuckle his seatbelt.

I slammed my hand down on his wrist as he reached for his jacket, my knuckles turning white from the force.

"Brad, look Mackenzie in the eyes and say that again," I said, every word forced out from the back of my throat.

"Today is Mackenzie's tryout for the local youth hockey travel team."

"She put in two extra hours of training in the garage every single day for this. You promised you'd be out there on the ice as her assistant coach."

Nine-year-old Mackenzie sat in the back holding her hockey pads. Her usually bright amber eyes were fixed entirely on her father in the passenger seat.

"I know, I know!" Brad pushed my hand away forcefully, his voice dropped low but his words flying fast.

"Ashley was crying on the phone."

"She got rear-ended by a semi-truck at an intersection, and the driver is being extremely aggressive, trying to bully her into signing a private settlement."

"She doesn't even know how to call a tow truck, and Carter is terrified and crying hysterically. I'm the only person she can rely on right now!"

I let out a cold laugh. "She got into a fender bender, so she can call the police and her insurance company. What does that have to do with you? Are you that kid's father?"

"Evelyn, when did you become so heartless?" Brad's face flushed crimson instantly, his voice spiking an octave.

"Ashley is a single mom with a six-year-old, and she has nobody else out here."

"Mackenzie is just playing in a basic local tryout. She'll have plenty of chances in the future, but Ashley and Carter are in actual danger right now."

Without giving me a chance to reply, he turned around and reached out to ruffle Mackenzie’s hair.

"Mackenzie, Daddy has an emergency to deal with right now. Let Mom take you inside for the tryout first."

"I swear, as soon as I sort things out with Carter, I'll rush right back to cheer for you, okay?"

Mackenzie pressed her lips together. She didn't nod like she usually would, but instead slowly turned her head to the side, avoiding Brad's palm.

A flash of awkwardness and irritation crossed Brad's face, but he didn't linger. He shoved the car door open and dashed into the pouring rain.

I tried my best to steady the sharp heaving in my chest, turning around to take Mackenzie's cold little hand.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. Mommy will go in with you, and I'll cheer for you from the stands."

Mackenzie looked at me, her eyes rimmed with red, but not a single tear fell.

She just whispered softly, "Mom, let's go."

Lacking her father's guidance and presence during timeouts was a massive disadvantage for Mackenzie, who struggled with attention deficit issues.

On the rink, when the referee blew the whistle, the other kids had their fathers outside the glass fencing, waving towels and shouting encouragement.

After a turnover pass, Mackenzie looked frantically toward the assistant coaches' bench.

In that single moment of distraction, an opposing player slammed into her hard, knocking her to the ice.

Mackenzie crashed onto the rink, her kneecaps hitting the hard ice with a dull thud.

She was cut in the first round of tryouts.

After the tryouts ended, I held Mackenzie in my arms, my eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Mommy couldn't give you the right technical coaching. You were amazing out there."

"It's okay, Mom," Mackenzie said, gently patting my back. Her voice was so quiet and calm it broke my heart.

When we got home, Mackenzie didn't even take off her heavy sports jacket. She unzipped her backpack and walked straight up the stairs to her second-floor bedroom.

I followed her inside.

On the wall of her room, clipped to string lights with tiny wooden pegs, was a dense collection of photos.

They were photos of me, Brad, and Mackenzie. She had collected ninety-nine of them in total.

Mackenzie pulled out a pair of crafting scissors.

She stood on her tiptoes and took down the third-to-last photo.

Without a second of hesitation, the metal blades cut smoothly along Brad's outline in the picture.

Mackenzie tossed the half containing Brad's image into the trash can, then clipped the remaining half—showing only her and me—back onto the string.

Now, there were only two complete family photos left.