Page 33 of Icy Pucking Play

"Sweet-talk the air conditioning?"

"Her name is Betty. She responds well to compliments about her efficiency."

I bite back a smile as I fold myself into her car. The seat is covered in papers. Score sheets, game notes, what looks like a half-finished crossword puzzle...

"Sorry about the mess." She starts the car, which makes a concerning noise before settling into a purr. "I usually have more warning before hauling pro athletes around."

"I've seen your desk at the office. This is actually an improvement."

"Hey! My desk is organized chaos."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

She shoots me a look that would be more effective if she wasn't fighting a smile. "Keep it up, Daniels, and you can walk to the game."

The drive is...nice. Comfortable. Sophie lets me control the radio (classic rock, because some stereotypes exist for a reason) and tells me about her latest article ideas. I find myself relaxing despite the cramped quarters, enjoying the way she gestures with one hand while she drives, the way she hums along to songs she claims not to know.

We make it to the rink just as warmups are starting.

"Daddy!" Natalia spots me immediately, rolling over in full goalie gear. "You made it! And Sophie!" Her face lights up even more. "You're wearing the team shirt!"

"I said I would." Sophie holds up her camera. "Mind if I get some action shots?"

"Please!" Natalia practically vibrates with excitement. "Can you get the butterfly save I've been practicing? And my glove saves? And…"

"Warmups," I remind her gently. "Show Sophie what you can do out there."

She zooms off, nearly taking out a teammate in her enthusiasm.

"She's definitely your kid," Sophie observes, already adjusting her camera settings.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Focused. Intense. Little bit scary between the pipes."

"I am not scary."

She looks at me over her camera. "You made a rookie cry last week."

"He was screening my goal!"

"He was tying his skate."

"In my crease!"

Her laugh echoes through the rink, drawing looks from other parents. I should care about that. About people seeing the Ice Man making a reporter half his size laugh.

But I don't.

The game is a good one. Natalia makes several key saves, including a butterfly save that has Sophie whistling in appreciation.

"That's all you," she says during a break between periods. "The way she tracks the puck, stays patient..."

"She's a natural."

"It's more than that." She shows me some of the photos she's taken—Natalia in perfect position, focused and fearless. "This is learned. This is hours of practice and good coaching and," she glances at me, "and having a dad who believes in her."

Something warm unfurls in my chest. Before I can respond, the buzzer sounds for the third period.

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