Page 42 of Mine For The Winter

“You want me to go in with you? Or be cool and walk around the front?”

Cole shrugged. “Come with me. Some of the dads come in and say hi to the coach.” He blinked. “And friends,” he added quickly. “They’re allowed in, too.”

Kris looked at Kelly and she shrugged. “Okay then, let’s go.”

He let Cole lead the way, not looking back when he heard the bang of the car door and the start of the engine as Kelly left. Cole was pointing out some of his team mates, the main entrance, and the door at the side where the teams walked in.

“Did you used to play here?” Cole asked, his face flushing as they walked into the warm hallway.

“No. This place wasn’t built when I was a kid. There was an old rink in Marshall’s Gap we used.”

“You and my dad,” Cole said, nodding.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Was my dad good at hockey?” A couple of kids ran past him, but Cole was too busy looking at Kris to notice.

“Yeah. He was good.” Kris nodded. Truth was, they’d both been okay. Good enough to shine in a small town high school, at least until Lyle had been thrown off the team.

“You think I take after him?” There was a hopeful note in Cole’s voice. It made Kris’ stomach tighten.

“How about I tell you after I watch you play?” Kris said, his voice gruff. Cole’s face lit up at the reminder he’d have somebody there for him in the stands.

“You’ll be here after?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure your mom’s friend takes you home safely.”

“Can you come back to the locker room like the other dads do? The coach likes us all to be congratulated before we go home.”

Like the other dads do.He heard it but he wasn’t sure what it meant. Didn’t know how to handle the answer. “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Now go get ready. Good luck.” Kris held his hand up and Cole high fived him, his smile big as he walked toward the locker room, and Kris followed the signs for the bleachers.

He was doing a good thing here, wasn’t he? Making up for the past, making memories for the future.

So why did his stomach feel like it was twisting in two?

* * *

“You’re new,” one of the parents said as Kris slid onto the bleachers at the side of the rink. There were only ten rows of seating. This place was mostly used for skating, not hockey, and there was no local team that required seating for thousands of supporters.

Kris gave her a quick smile, then turned to look at the rink. Funny how it all came back. The painted lines, the positions. The Zamboni that came out in the middle of every game.

He and Lyle had taken a joyride on one during senior year. They’d been fascinated by it for years. Lyle had managed to start it up without a key after they broke into the rink. They’d laughed their heads off as they drove around and around the ice.

Until the cops showed up and his parents were called to pick him up. He remembered his dad being furious, pushing him up against the kitchen wall as soon as they got home.

Good times.

“Who are you here for?” the woman asked. He turned to look at her. She was smiling at him, and he felt bad for brushing her off.

“Cole Fraser.”

She blinked as though surprised, and tipped her head to the side. “Are you his dad?”

“No. A family friend.” Kris shifted his legs. They were too long for the gap between the benches. If he wasn’t careful his knees would end up in somebody’s spine.

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