He smiles at her. “Yeah. I am.”
“And you’re good at it,” she adds matter-of-factly.
Something tightens in my chest.
“I like helping players off the ice,” he says, looking at me now. “Especially the ones who don’t really have a home base. Somewhere they can train. Reset. Be people…
“…Be people again,” he finishes.
I swallow. “That sounds really nice.”
He shrugs, but there’s something hopeful under the casualness. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Scottie’s game beeps triumphantly from the living room. “I won!”
Dane grins. “I knew she was competitive.”
“Relentless,” I agree.
When he leaves a little while later, I tell myself it’s just pizza. Just nostalgia. Just two adults being civil for the sake of a kid who loves hockey.
It has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the way he can still make my heart pound faster than anyone else ever has.
Practice the next day starts out normally enough.
The kids are loud and chaotic, sticks clattering, skates scraping, voices echoing off the walls. I take my usual seat in the bleachers, thermos in hand, watching Scottie warm up with her friends.
Dane moves easily among them, authoritative without being intimidating. He corrects a stance here, offers a word of encouragement there. The kids listen. Respect him. Gravitate toward him.
Scottie glows under it.
About halfway through practice, I notice her skating harder than usual. Jaw set. Shoulders tense. She lines up for a drill and one of the boys shoves past her, knocking her off balance.
“Careful,” she snaps.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t even be playing.”
My grip tightens on my thermos.
Another boy snickers. “Yeah. Girls don’t belong on this team.”
Before I can stand, Dane’s whistle cuts through the air.
They freeze, stricken like they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
He skates to a stop in front of them, expression calm in a way that’s somehow more intimidating than yelling.
“What did you just say?” he asks.
Neither boy answers.
“I’ll wait,” Dane continues evenly.
The first boy shifts uncomfortably. “Nothing.”
Dane shakes his head. “Try again.”
Silence stretches. The entire rink has gone quiet now. Parents lean forward in their seats. Kids stop skating.
