Page 63 of Offside for Christmas
"You coming to the skating event on Saturday at the christmas festival? Before the game?"
Finn's whole face lit up like Ellie had never seen. "Really? You'll be there?"
"I'll be there. And if you show up, I'll show you some tricks. Deal?"
"DEAL!" Finn was practically vibrating with excitement.
The boy started toward the door, then Cole called out, "Wait. Finn."
The kid turned back, and Cole walked to his hockey bag in the corner. He dug around for a moment, then pulled out a puck—old, scuffed, clearly important.
"You see this?" Cole held it up. "This is from my first NHL goal. Chicago Blackhawks, eight years ago. I kept it because it reminded me that all the hard work was worth it." He pressed it into Finn's good hand. "Now it's yours. To remind you that you can do anything you set your mind to."
Finn stared at the puck like it was made of gold, his eyes going wide and shiny. "I—I can't—this is—"
"You can. And you will. Take care of it."
"I will! I'll keep it forever! Thank you thank you thank you!"
"Finn!" A woman's voice called from outside. "Honey, we have to go or you'll be late for school!"
"That's my mom," Finn said reluctantly. "I gotta go."
"Then go. School's important."
Finn wrinkled his nose. "School's boring."
Cole's expression turned stern. "Hey. You respect your mother, and you finish school. That's non-negotiable. But you also play hockey, and you love it, and you work hard at it. You can do both. Got it?"
"Got it!" Finn clutched the puck to his chest. "Thanks, Mr. Hansen! I'll see you Saturday!"
He ran out, and they could hear his excited voice telling his mother about the puck and Cole and Saturday all the way down the hall.
Ellie was staring at Cole with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"What?" he said defensively.
"That was really sweet."
"It wasn't sweet. I was just—the kid has determination. I respect that."
"You gave him your first-goal puck."
"I have other pucks."
"Cole." She stepped closer, her voice soft. "That was one of the kindest things I've ever seen."
He looked uncomfortable with the praise. "He reminded me of me. When I was his age. Before I got bitter and cynical."
"You're not that bitter."
"I'm working on it."
Before Ellie could respond, the door opened again—this time Coach Davis, and his expression was serious.
"Ellie. Cole. Good, you're both here."
Something in his tone made Ellie's stomach drop. "Coach? What's wrong?"
