"I used muscles tonight that I didn't know existed."
"Want hot chocolate?"
His answer was immediate. "Obviously."
As we carefully made our way off the ice and toward the concession stand, a teenager near the boards lifted a hand. "Good game last week, Mr. Hale."
"Thanks, man. Appreciate it."
The kid grinned and pushed off, and I watched him go. A few minutes later, we were sitting at one of the outdoor tables with paper cups warming our hands. The scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon drifted through the cold air.
Kieran took a sip and sighed. "Okay. This might be the best part."
"You just spent an hour learning a new skill."
"Exactly."
I shook my head and reached for my own cup. Movement near the edge of my vision caught my attention. I glanced up and found an older man approaching our table. He was probably in his sixties, bundled in a heavy winter coat and a navy knit cap with the rink's logo embroidered across the front.
He smiled. "Never thought I'd see Thane Hale sitting at my rink on Christmas Day."
I smiled back. "Sorry to disappoint."
The man laughed. "Oh, I don't know. It's a pretty good thing."
His gaze shifted to Kieran. "You teaching him?"
"Trying."
The man's attention settled fully on Kieran. "First time?"
Kieran nodded. "Was it that obvious?"
The man chuckled. "A little."
Kieran groaned. "I knew it."
"You're still smiling. That's a good sign."
Kieran glanced at me. “Give me ten minutes."
"If you haven't fallen by now, you'll be fine."
The man extended a hand. "Arthur Griffin."
We introduced ourselves, and within seconds, the conversation had shifted away from professional hockey and onto the rink itself. Arthur talked about the outdoor ice, the indoor facility, and the endless battle of keeping everything maintained during the winter months.
Listening to him, I recognized the look in his eyes. I'd seen it in coaches, equipment managers, and volunteers at community rinks all over North America. People like Arthur didn't keep places like this running because it made them rich. They did it because they loved what the rink meant to the people who used it.
"My daughter moved to Oregon years ago," Arthur said. "My son wants absolutely nothing to do with ice rinks."
"Really?" Kieran asked.
Arthur snorted. "He says he's spent enough winters freezing already."
I laughed into my cup. "Fair."
Arthur pointed at me. "See? Somebody understands."
