“This feels like a bad idea,” she mutters.
“You’ll be fine,” I say, stepping up behind her. I rest my hands lightly over hers, guiding her stance. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Elbow high. And when you throw, follow through. Like this.”
She tilts her head just enough to look at me. “You realize if I miss and this thing comes back at me, you’re to blame.”
“Guess I’ll take my chances.”
She exhales, focuses, and lets it fly. The axe spins once, twice, before it hits the target with the handle instead of the blade, bouncing off the wood and clattering to the floor.
Her eyes go wide. “See? Terrible idea!”
I laugh, walking forward to grab it. “You almost hit the center.”
“Almost doesn’t count, Coach.”
“Then let’s fix that.”
We trade turns, and it doesn’t take long before she starts to get the hang of it. Every throw she lands gets closer, her laughter growing louder each time. At one point, she nails the board dead center. Both her hands fly up in the air in victory.
“Did you see that?” she shouts, spinning toward me.
“Hard to miss when you nearly took out the bull’s-eye.”
Her grin is contagious. “I’m basically a natural. I’ll be ready to turn pro before too long.”
“Yeah,” I say, closing the space between us. “You’re dangerous now.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move away. The room fades a little, and for a second, it’s just her smile, the pink on her cheeks, the way she looks up at me like she’s trying to soak in this moment.
Then someone behind us cheers, breaking the spell. She laughs and steps back, bumping my arm. “Come on, Coach. Think you can top that?”
We play a few more rounds before deciding we’re starving. The smell of greasy bar food wins out, and we grab a booth near the corner. A server drops off menus, and we order a couple of burgers and fries to split.
When she leans back against the booth, she’s still smiling. “Okay,” she admits, tilting her head as she looks at me. “I’ll give it to you. This was a pretty good idea.”
“Told you.”
“I’m still shocked you’d trust me with weapons.”
“I would never let anything happen to you. Besides, anytime we’re together, I never take my eyes off you, so it’s not like I’ve left you unsupervised.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “When did you become such a sweet talker? You talk about me being dangerous, but you’re the one people should be warned about.”
“Is that right?” I grin. “What’s the over-under that I can sweet-talk you out of that door for some dessert after we finish? I have a bit of a sweet tooth tonight, and the only cure is some of that sugar.” I wink.
This time, when she laughs, it’s one of those throw-your-head-back belly laughs. The sight alone nearly takes my breath away.
At this moment, there is nowhere in the world I’d rather be than across this table from her. That’s saying something, as the guy who lost his entire career to an injury he could’ve prevented.
By the time the food hits the table, we’re both starving. The server sets down two plates with burgers stacked high, a basket of fries, and a few napkins that I’m certain won’t be enough. Tessa’s eyes light up like she hasn’t eaten in a week.
“Okay,” she says, grabbing a fry and dipping it in ketchup. “You weren’t lying. This smells incredible.”
“I told you,” I say, taking a bite of my burger. “When I was playing at Kolmont, some of my teammates and I would make regular trips out here. Mostly for the food, but every now and then, we’d let off some steam by throwing a few.”
She wipes her hands with a napkin and leans back. “Speaking of hockey,” she says, looking at me over the rim of her glass. “How’s it been since taking on the interim coaching gig? You don’t say too much about the job itself.”
I pause, setting my burger down. “It’s been… good,” I say slowly. “Busy. A lot to juggle, but I’m learning.”
