The Kane family had always believed that love and hockey were the same in one important way: both required showing up, every day, no matter how heavy the heart or tired the legs.

It was early June, thirty-seven years after that first mistletoe bet, and Evergreen Hollow was in full bloom—lilacs heavy in the air, the pond sparkling under blue skies, the backyard rink boards stacked neatly in the garage waiting for winter.

The house was full again, but this time for a different ...