Charlie bent lower, pushed off, and cut a cleaner arc across the lake. The ice held firm, pale under a sky that always had trouble making up its mind this time of year.
“That’s it,” Theo said. “Again. Same path.”
The surgery was a distant memory now, and he still moved like the ice belonged to him. Not anything like when he was still in the thick of it, but there were signs. That old version had burned itself out. This one was steadier. Efficient. His repaired shoulder set his limits now. It talked to him when bad weather rolled in, a dull warning that made him favor one side. And for the most part, he listened. Although I gave up hoping he’d become less stubborn with age.
Charlie took a turn too wide and skidded. Theo reached him in two strides and caught him before he went down.
“Easy,” Theo said. “You’re ahead of your edges.”
Charlie huffed. “Coach says to push hard.”
“Yeah, well, maybe your coach needs some lessons himself.”
“Theo…” I gave him a warning look. He was always ready to meddle, unable to leave that life fully behind. “His coach is the best, remember?”
He rolled his eyes where Charlie couldn’t see. “Sure. Best coach ever.”
“Second best,” Charlie quipped, sliding the puck between his dad’s legs, and circling fast to catch it again. “Yours was the best, right, Daddy?”
A shadow stole over Theo’s features, and he smiled through it. “That’s right.”
I wrapped my sweater tighter, boots crunching over the snow at the lake’s edge. “Hot cocoa in five,” I said. “No negotiations.”
Charlie groaned. “Mo-ooom.”
Theo shot him a look. “You want numb toes at tryouts?”
Charlie’s shoulders slumped. He skated toward the dock, sulk brief and theatrical, then brightened when Theo flicked snow at him with a skate.
I watched them come in together. Theo’s arm rested across Charlie’s shoulders, a habit that stuck. Protective without being loud about it.
Inside, the kettle screamed. I poured milk, stirred cocoa powder, and added marshmallows Charlie pretended not to like anymore (he always beamed when he found them floating in there). Theo leaned against the counter, stretching his shoulder with a wince he thought I didn’t see.
“Rain tonight,” I said.
He nodded. “Been feeling it since morning.”
Charlie hopped onto a stool and blew on his mug. “Daddy says that all the time.”
“That’s because your daddy’s old,” I said.
Theo laughed, and gave me a playful shove. “I happen to be a man in my prime, thank you very much.”
Charlie slurped cocoa and grinned. “What’s a prime?”
After boots and gear were piled by the door and Charlie disappeared into the living room for some TV time, the house settled.
Theo rinsed our mugs at the sink. I watched his reflection in the window, shoulders broad, posture a little more careful than it used to be. He dried his hands and turned to me.
“You think he’s ready?” he asked.
“For tryouts?” I leaned back against the counter. “He listens. He works hard. Most importantly, he loves it. That counts.”
Theo nodded, gaze drifting toward the stairs. “He’s got your focus.”
“And your stubborn streak.”
“Superhuman combo, if you ask me.”
