Page 47

He looked up at the bench and shook his head once.

That was it. Cole watched Deluca see the shake of the head and turn to Halsey. Halsey came up off the bench, pulling his mask down. The building understood a beat after Cole did and made a low sound.

They got Ford up between them, Riggs under one arm and Carter under the other, one blade dragging. Cole was closer than Carter. He didn’t move. If he took Ford’s weight on his shoulder, his face would do something he couldn’t stop, in front of both benches and every camera in the building.

So he picked up Ford’s stick and glove off the ice and carried them.

He skated behind the three of them to the bench with the stick in one hand and the glove in the other. The Forum was on its feet. Ford lifted his free hand to the crowd as they went, and the noise came down on all of them. Cole handed the stick and glove to the equipment guy at the door and watched Ford go down the tunnel between two men who weren’t him.

They hung on. Halsey came in cold and stopped twelve of fourteen, and Cedar Rapids finally remembered they had a game to play and pushed the whole third. The Stags won three-two.

Cole didn’t remember much of it. He played his shifts. He blocked a shot he never saw coming and skated it off without checking where it hit him. With a minute left and Cedar Rapids’ net empty, he was on the ice, and when the horn went, he went down and tapped Halsey’s pads with everybody else. He’d done that after every win since he came to Port Haven. It had always been Ford.

Theo was waiting where the tunnel bent, kit still in his hand.

“Englund.”

Cole stopped. Theo had been down on one knee at Ford’s head with his ear six inches from Ford’s mouth, and Cole had been standing over the both of them with his hand in the air. He had taken it back. He was almost sure he had taken it back before anybody looked up.

“You live with him,” Theo said.

“Yeah.”

“Then whatever I put in the report, you’ll hear it tonight, so hear it right.” Theo turned the kit over in his hands. “Joint locked up on him. Nothing structural I can find with two hands, which is worth about what you’d think. He needs an MRI. I’ve been saying that since October.”

“Okay.”

“He’s going to tell you he’s fine and ready to be in on Saturday.” Theo stopped. “You’re the one in the house.”

Cole held still and waited for whatever came after that.

“Englund.” Theo nodded at Cole’s hands. “Unclench.”

Cole looked down. His fists were shut at his sides. He opened them.

Theo held his eye a beat longer than a conversation about a roommate needed. Then he went on down the tunnel.

Ford was already dressed when they came in, sitting in front of his stall with his shirt open, telling Halsey he’d read the two-on-one right and to stop apologizing for the second goal. He had his elbows on his knees and a strip of tape half off his thumb, and he worked at it while he talked. Riggs threw a towel at somebody. Novo started in about the box before he had his skates off.

Cole took his time showering and came out last. Ford was still by the door, working his top button in the mirror with his weight all on one leg.

“I’m fine,” Ford said to the mirror.

“You stayed down.”

“For a second.”

“Ford.”

Ford’s hands stopped at his collar. He looked at Cole in the glass, and for one second, the face he’d been wearing since the second period wasn’t there. Then Novo banged back through the door, and it was back.

“Later,” Ford said, low, and reached for his coat.

The Penalty Box took them in like it always did. Gunnar had the taps going before anybody sat. Wes set a beer in front of Cole without asking. Leo kicked a chair out from the big table with his foot.

“Englund. Sit.”

Cole sat. Dawson slid the dice cup over. Cole shook, lost, bought the round, and took the abuse for it. It was warm and loud, and for ten minutes, he forgot to look across the table.