Page 23 of Jack Frosting

Honk honk.

Startled by the noise, I looked behind me, past the headlights, to find two faces smiling behind the windshield. Jack and Henry.

Jack rolled the window down as he pulled up beside me. “You look kind of deranged waving that around in the dark, standing in the middle of the road.”

I tried to poke him through the window, but he grabbed it before I could. “I told you not to forget.”

“We remembered,” Henry chimed in.

“Just took a few blocks,” Jack added. I let him pull the stick into the car. “See you in a bit. You’ve got a future boss to impress.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Henry called out as Jack pulled away.

I glanced at my watch. Shit. I had ten minutes to finish preparing.

* * *

There weren’t many devastatingly gorgeous men in their twenties at a middle school hockey game. I easily found Jack in the bleachers, and his hair looked better and better every day. He probably used some fancy coconut oil or something.

“How’d it go?”

“Good, I think. They laughed at my jokes at least,” I answered.

“You have jokes?”

I elbowed him in the side and drank his laughter. “How’s he doing?” I pointed my chin to the ice and scanned for number twelve.

“Great. He’s got an assist already, and as you can see, they’re winning.”

He was right. I glanced at the scoreboard, which told me that I made it in time for the last period. Plus a few extra minutes of the second.

Before I could say anything else, Jack said, “Before you thank me one more time, like I said, I was happy to bring him here. If you weren’t aware, I like sports, and I like helping Henry.”

It took every fiber of my being not to say it. “Good to know.”

“And I’m glad the interview went well.”

“It’s a really good fit for my life.” I explained. “I’d be home most of the time. They only require one day a week at the office.”

“I can see how tough it is being a single dad. Do you…ever hear from his mother?”

A cheer traveled through the crowd and my eyes found the puck. Henry’s teammate had just missed the net.

“Jill. Her name’s Jill.”

When Jack didn’t say anything, I kept going. It poured out of me.

“She texts me about once a month. Generic stuff. I know she texts Henry too, but he never texts her back. She thinks I’m to blame for that. Because he can’t possibly have his own feelings about it. It’s like she forgets how old thirteen actually is.”

“Is she coming back any time soon? Like, for Christmas?”

I shook my head. “I hope not. I’d only ask her if I knew Henry wanted that and he doesn’t talk about her.”

“I can ask him some time if you want me to. He might be more comfortable–not that you’re unapproachable. I just meant-”

“I know what you meant, and that’s really sweet.”

There had to be something wrong with him, but fucked if I knew what it was. His body was amazing, his face was mesmerizing, and he was just so fucking nice.