Page 51 of Cold as (N)ice

“Whoaaa-boy,” she muttered under her breath and hesitated, speaking the only phrase she knew in broken French.“Parlez vous anglaise?”

“Can I ‘elp you?”

“I’m Barrett Coeur’s wife and…”

“Can I see your ID card?”

Pulling out her driver’s license from Texas, she grimaced. She didn’t have a new one yet and it still had her other name on it. The man looked at her skeptically and she gave a meek little shrug.

“With the move, I couldn’t get my passport and driver’s license changed quickly – but if you want to check with someone while I use the bathroom…” she hedged, her bladder screaming silently and nearly let out a sigh of relief as they were taken inside and physically escorted to the restrooms down the hall.

Wait here, Stephen,she hesitated.Do not move.

I won’t. I promise, Mommy.

Darting into the bathroom, she was out in record time only to see Barrett walking up, looking stunned, and dressed in his deep blue uniform – covered in sweat.

“Irene? Is everything okay?” he asked, looking concerned and afraid. “Are you all right, Troll doll? When security called back and…”

“I’m fine,” she smiled, already feeling better. “We wanted to surprise you, and I guess you didn’t get your text message.”

“Not yet,” he chuckled and signed to include Stephen in their conversation. “C’mon you two – you can watch from the penalty box that’s right on the ice. Everyone will want to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “They are big on family – which is why we are going to the get-together Saturday.”

He clasped Stephen’s hand and leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips, whispering to her. “I missed you.”

“It’s been four hours.”

“Still counts…”

Irene smiled shyly as he winked at her and made his way down the hallway with each of them on either side. She couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride and awareness as they entered the arena – and glanced at Stephen. Her son’s mouth was open in amazement, eyes huge, as he looked around with stars practically glittering from his enraptured expression.

“Come,” Barrett invited again – and turned to Stephen.The guys are going to want to say hello, so take it easy on them.

Do they sign?

I showed them how to say hello – and how to say ‘dumpster fire’…

Stephen’s laugh was loud enough to announce their entrance as Irene caught Barrett’s warm smile before calling out to his team.

The moment they stepped into the arena, Irene felt the chill of the ice curling around her ankles, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Barrett’s broad frame beside her. The scent of freshly resurfaced ice mingled with the crisp, metallic tang of the rink, and the distant scrape of skates against the frozen surface echoed through the vast space.

Barrett’s voice rang out, strong and sure, the timbre of it reverberating in her chest as he called out, “Hey guys—I have a guest.” His hands moved fluidly in the air as he signed for Stephen’s benefit, his attentiveness to their son an unconscious, endearing habit that made her heart squeeze. “Coach Starnes, this is my wife, Irene—and our son, Stephen.”

Before she had a chance to take a steadying breath, a flurry of movement surrounded her. Names blurred together, accompanied by firm handshakes and easy, welcoming grins. Each man took a moment to acknowledge Stephen, crouching slightly to his level, greeting him with warmth and genuine interest. The boy was transfixed, his wide eyes darting between them, his small hands twitching with excitement as he clutched the fabric of her coat. She felt the tremor of his enthusiasm in the way his body vibrated against hers, his awe a tangible thing.

“Is this our honorary guard?” A new voice chimed in, low and amused. His jersey said, ‘Savage’ and she recognized the name from Barrett.

This was the new captain.

The tall blond man with sun-streaked hair murmured something to Barrett, who grinned—one of those roguish, boyish grins that had once made her breath hitch. Before she could process what was happening, both men scooped Stephen up between them and carried him onto the ice.

A startled gasp caught in her throat, but it melted into something else entirely as she watched Stephen’s delighted shrieks echo through the rink. They each held onto a piece of him—one gripping an arm, the other a leg—while Stephen wielded a hockey stick like a sword, his laughter so uninhibited that it turned into hiccups.

She had never seen him like this. So carefree. So completely unburdened by the worries that had shadowed his young face in recent months.

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