Page 22 of Ice Melts

“Back at ya, Cooper.”

She laughed. It was way more fun to relive the days of high school banter than to think about the present. “I didn’t know you could cook. Rolls, huh?”

“Well, I’m really great at purchasing food.” He looked sheepish until she grinned and kissed his cheek. “This is sweet, thank you. I was probably going to warm up a can of old chili or something from the storage.”

He winced. “Then I’ve probably just saved your life, let’s be real.”

“Honestly, you’re right. I owe you.” She lifted her soup and took a sip at the edge with her mouth. “MMM. Did you get this at Fratelli’s?”

“The very one. Can you believe they’re still open?”

“With food like this? Yes.” She dug into her soup, dipping the roll and filling her belly as if she’d not eaten in days. In truth it had been all day. The granola bar from her pocket was not cutting it.

Everything was so cozy, the house warming up, and things so good between them, she hated to ask the next question.

“How long are you in the area?” She hid her expression in the next bite of soup so he couldn’t tell how much she hoped he had some more time.

His eyes warmed. “I leave in the morning.” He leaned back in his chair. “But I have my stuff in the car if you don’t mind sharing the house?”

She nearly choked on her next bite but pushed through. “Of course! We share the house.” She fiddled with the butter knife. “We could get through our favorite episodes.”

He grinned. “Now that sounds amazing. Do you know long it’s been since I’ve just watched TV?”

“Forever? Cause that’s how long it’s been for me.”

“You must have lots of writing deadlines.” The tone at the table shifted subtly. She imagined it was because they were both thinking of her career and all the inflammatory hockey articles.

She measured her words. “I do. Sometimes our editor gives us specific assignments and sometimes just asks for content. If I don’t have a couple articles a week, she starts to get uptight.”

He nodded. “I wonder what an uptight editor looks like.” He laughed. “Does she like break a pencil or something?”

Sarah grinned.

“Because you can hear an uptight coach all the way down the hall.”

“Oh no. She’s nothing like that. But I could lose my job, lose my status, lose chances to write more stories. There are lots of ways to make work less enjoyable.” She held her breath a second longer. “But I’m really considering when it will be time to take the experience I learned there and go somewhere else.”

His eyes lit. “Are you? Would you stay in the same area? Sports reporting?”

She cleared her throat. “You might find this difficult to believe, given my latest stories, but I really do love sportsreporting. I would just like to focus on the less sensational side of things.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he breathed out a long almost sigh. “I’m so glad to hear that. Sarah, I just haven’t been able to understand your latest articles. I don’t get it. You’re a talented writer and what you’re covering, what you’re doing to these guys.” He shook his head. “I’m just glad to hear it’s your boss and not you who is doing the exploiting.”

She bristled. She tried not to, but that hit a nerve. “No one is exploiting. No one is forcing them to act irresponsibly. Do you know how many young guys are paying attention to you guys? Do you know what happens to a team that allows substance abuse and law breaking without punishment from the coach?” She shook her head. “I might be trying to keep my boss happy, but I believe in what I’m doing. And you might be what every hockey player should be, but there is a growing problem among the players. If you’d pay attention, you’d see it. Something needs to be done and if the coaches and NHL won’t do anything, at least I can expose them.” She paused. She’d said too much.

Travis’ face was blank. He’d gone very still. And he wasn’t saying anything. She watched him a second more and then stood. “Well, I’ll do the dishes.”

He stood quickly. “No, no. I’ll help. Of course.”

She waved him away. “Why don’t you go pick the movie?” She wanted him away, that disapproving tone, all of it.

The dishes took a long time, or rather, she took her time doing them. But when she was finished, every corner of that kitchen was smelling and looking fresh.

When she finally walked back into the living room part of the house, she carried a tray with popcorn and a couple root beers from the second fridge. The house never had alcohol. No one in their families drank.

“Hey. I thought I scared you away.”

She shrugged. “Nah. You know me better than that. I just don’t know how that conversation will be productive.”

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