“Where are we going?” Kent asked as I led him toward the sound of voices and laughter echoing from a few blocks away.
“You’ll see,” I said mysteriously.
We rounded a corner and came upon the outdoor skating rink that the town maintained during winter months. It was nothing fancy, just a cleared area with boards around the edges and some basic lighting, but tonight it was alive with activity. A group of kids, maybe ten or twelve years old, were playing an enthusiastic game of hockey. Their skates scraped against the ice as they chased the puck back and forth.
“Please tell me you’re not planning what I think you’re planning,” Kent said, eyeing the skates available for rent at a small booth nearby.
“Come on.” I laughed, already heading toward the booth. “When’s the next time you’ll get a chance to skate?”
“Never, if I can help it.”
But he followed me anyway, and soon we were both lacing up rented skates. I pushed off onto the ice with the confidence of someone who’d been skating since childhood, while Kent stepped out tentatively, his arms spread wide for balance.
The kids immediately recognized a new player and skated over to us with the fearless enthusiasm that only children possess. I thought they were going to give Kent shit, but they grinned instead.
“Hey, you guys want to play?” one of them called out. “We need more people for teams.”
I grabbed a spare hockey stick from the pile by the boards and grinned at Kent. “What do you say? Ready to show these kids how it’s done?”
What followed was an hour or so of pure entertainment. Kent made an absolute fool of himself on the ice, falling down more times than I could count and flailing his arms dramatically every time he lost his balance. But he was laughing the entire time, throwing himself into the game with the kind of abandon I hadn’t expected from someone so sophisticated.
Watching him get completely schooled by a bunch of twelve-year-olds was hilarious, but what I loved most was seeing how competitiveIgot. These kids were good, and I found myself checking them into the boards and stealing the puck with moves I hadn’t used since high school.
“Foul!” one of the kids yelled when I hip-checked him away from the goal. “That’s not fair. You’re like twice my size!”
“I’m barely taller than you,” I protested, but I was laughing too hard to sound indignant.
Kent, meanwhile, had given up any pretense of playing hockey and was just trying to stay upright while the kids skated circles around him. At one point, he got tangled up with two players and all three of them went down in a heap, with Kent somehow ending up at the bottom of the pile.
“I think I’m done being a human pancake,” he announced when they finally untangled themselves.
We skated for another twenty minutes before calling it quits, both of us breathless and giddy from the exercise and cold air. Kent’s cheeks were bright red, his hair was disheveled, and there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that suggested he was also surprised by how much fun he’d had.
“I can’t believe you talked me into that,” he said as we returned our rental skates.
“I can’t believe how terrible you are at skating,” I teased back. “Good thing you’re pretty.”
We grabbed hot chocolate and cookies from a nearby stand for the drive home. This was what I’d wanted to show him. The activities, yes, but also the sense of community and simple pleasures that made Northwood special.
“Ready to head back?” Kent asked as we walked toward the truck.
“Actually,” I said, getting an idea that made me smile. “The best part of the evening is yet to come.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s what I’m talking about. Just ignore all my bruises from falling down.”
I playfully shoved him. “Not that.”
“Are you sure?” he teased in a husky voice. “I mean, I want to redeem myself after the skating.”
“Trust me,” I said. “You’re going to love this.”
CHAPTER 36
KENT
Iwasn’t sure where the hell Sylvie was taking me, but she was driving Brom’s old pickup truck down a narrow, tree-lined forest road that seemed to lead straight into pitch darkness. If it had been anyone but Sylvie, I would be freaking out. It felt like no one was around for miles. A person could disappear easily into all this darkness.
“Should I be scared?” I asked.
