Page 6 of Back On Ice

He nods, taking a deep breath, and looks down, starting over. “I was wondering, Mr. Williams, sir, if you would ever be able to, maybe work with me on the ice? You’re my favorite player of all time.”

A grin splits my face, knowing the kid who I thought would be my nephew the first year of his life, my best friend's son, sees me as some sort of hero. “Jordan, look at me.” He looks up hesitantly, and I say in a dead serious voice, “Number one, call me Carter. Number two… we’re going to be on that ice so much that you’re going to have to get your dad to get rid of me.”

His eyes light up and he turns to look at his friends before looking back at me, “Can Bodhi and Theo come too?” The two boys standing behind Jordan look at me with vastly different expressions.

The one on the left only runs a hand through his sweaty hair—hair that’s so blonde it’s almost white. His brown eyes are pointed downward like he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s too excited.

The one on the right has hair almost as black as mine, and bright green eyes that shine with hope.

“I would love that,” I say, and find that I actually mean it.

The three boys all hiss out some variation of “Yesss!” and turn to face each other, doing some ridiculously complicated three-way handshake that I couldn’t replicate even if I wanted to.

“You boys ready to go?” a woman calls out by the door, who I notice has the same bronze skin and black hair as the friend who had been standing on Jordan’s right. This must be his mom. “Why don’t you guys go rinse off in the locker room so my car doesn’t smell like sweaty hockey players.”

The boys nod, and Jordan gives his dad a quick hug before he and his friends rush to the locker room with their bags. “Bye, Dad! Bye, Carter!”

“Thanks again, Selma.” Tom nods to the woman, who waves back before heading out the door. “That’s Theo’s mom,” he explains. Ah. So the one with the white hair is Bodhi, and the other one is Theo. “They’re doing their Friday sleepover. We rotate whose house it’s at every week.”

“They seem close.” I smile after them, remembering how tight-knit my high school team and I used to be.

“They are. Selma and Bodhi’s mom, Tara, were all in the same mommy and me group with Sarah, so they’ve known each other their whole lives. We tried to make sure they kept seeing each other… after everything.”

After the accident where his wife Sarah died, he means.

He stares into space before he blinks himself out of it. “Shit, it’s good to see you, Carter.” Tom’s expression changes to a broad smile as he takes a step and squeezes me in a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

Guilt pangs in my gut as I return the embrace. “I know, man. I’m sorry, my dad?—”

He cuts me off, shaking his head. “Don’t. You told me all about what that bastard had been doing. I get it. I’m just glad he’s gone now.”

“Fuck, me too.” I let out a shaky laugh. “He’s finally gone, and I’m free to come back home and save this place.”

Sighing, Tom shakes his head. “I hope so. Let’s go for a walk. I can show you what needs fixing so you can walk into the council meeting with a clear picture of what we need.”

We walk around the rinks, Tom pointing out all the things that need repair and the walls that need repainting. “There’s air vents there, there, and there,” Tom points to three different places on the ceiling, “that need to be replaced. Wiring hasn’tbeen up to code in about eight years. If you lookinsidethe rinks, you’ll see half the boards are beat to hell, and the other half are two hits away from being destroyed completely…”

Tom goes on to list so many other things it’s hard to keep up. I’ve been trying to figure out how I can help the place, but after seeing how much work it needs, I’m wondering if I just need to offer to pay for everything. It’s not like I can’t swing it after a sensational seven years in the NHL.

There’s no way we can raise the amount we would need in a decent amount of time. We’re about halfway around when we’re approached by an older gentleman that I recognize back from my high school days. Benson Scott, the owner and founder of the rec center and Twin Rinks.

“Tom! And is that Carter Williams?!” I try not to wince at the volume, but it’s much louder than I was expecting. Tomdidmention that Benson is hard of hearing, but failed to mention how he apparently yells to compensate for it.

He looks between us through the large glasses on his nose, his weathered face smiling broadly at us. He has a surprisingly full head of hair for a man that must be at least eighty by now. It’s not hard to see the man from ten years ago. I remember him being slimmer then, but has rounded out quite a bit since.

“It’s nice to see you, Mr. Scott.” I raise the volume of my voice, reaching my hand out for a handshake. He grabs it with gusto.

“Oh, please, Carter! Call me Benson! Everybody else does!” His voice echoes in the empty area, but I can’t help but match the smile on his face. The man exudes “happy”.

“Got it. It’s nice to see you,Benson.” I enunciate the last word in a teasing matter, and he chuckles. “It looks like you could use some help around here. I’d love to talk to you about a financial contribution?—”

“That’s very kind of you. I won’t turn down more help. I’ve been working with our Sophie on drumming up some exposure for the place! Maybe then she can raise the money we need to save it! But maybe I should let you talk to Sophie and see what she thinks.”

Before I can open my mouth to ask him exactly what he means about Sophie, a loud ringing comes from Benson’s pocket. He pulls it out, and shakes his head before turning to us. “Sorry, boys! I’ll catch you later, I have to take this!”

He walks away with the phone pressed to his ear, yelling loudly into the microphone.

Narrowing my eyes, I turn to Tom. “What the fuck did he mean about Sophie saving it? You never said anything about that during ournumerousphone conversations about saving the rec center.”

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