Summary:

He is grateful, so grateful to be on this team. They are loving and wonderful, and they don't mind that his mother calls after nearly every game, or that his father sends what feels like bushels of chocolate and treats to the office, always addressed to Luca Haas and his friends, as if he is somehow a star and not just a rookie.

“Is it always like this?” he asks once, his tongue unstuck from his teeth, his eyes shining as he glances up at Roz, soaking in the celebratory mood after a hard-fought win.

“No,” Rozanov says, smiling at him. His stomach flips and churns, dazzled by the glittering weight of his attention. “This is special, Haasy. A team powered by love and good hockey.”

OR: Luca Haas and love, in the years leading up to the Ottawa Centaurs Stanley Cup run.