Page 25 of Home Ice

“I want to drive out of here in an hour with that one. How do we make it happen?”

Chapter Eight

TAI

I’m not expecting Kasen to show up for his time slot, so when he skates onto the ice a little before three, I try not to let my surprise show.

He might be Hawke’s son, but he’s my student first. We’ll talk hockey, and I won’t pry.

Even though I’m nosy as shit and want to pull every thought from his head.

I almost start by asking how summer is going like I do with all of my students, but stop myself in time.

“Thought any more about picking up that part-time job I offered you?” Sticking with hockey talk makes things easier.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” he says, upending a heavy bag of pucks and sending them scattering over the ice. “We could use the extra cash, but my grandma says we’re fine. She wants me focused on friends and schoolwork right now.”

“Not hockey?”

He scowls and sends a puck flying into the net down the other end. “She likes to remind me that while it’s great for exercise and team building, there’s no guarantee I’ll make it professionally, and I’d be shortsighted to let my brain go to waste.”

“You’re going to hate me⁠—”

“You agree with her, don’t you?” When he glares at me, I have to question how far in denial I was to doubt he could be related to Hawke. They’re the same. It makes me smile, and I set my stick down to slowly bat a puck back and forth.

“Only to an extent. She’s right that hockey is a tough career. You’re good enough, but that doesn’t always matter. You should have a backup in mind, just in case.”

“Fine. My backup is hockey coach.”

“Speaking from experience, it’s not the most glamorous job.”

“I don’t mean high schoolers like you do. I mean NHL.”

“And how do you think you get to the NHL as a coach?” While it would make sense for me to be aiming for that, I also know how slim that road is. I’m aiming for college for the paycheck, but I really love working with kids. Getting to shape them as players, seeing their skill level rise exponentially, the sheer enthusiasm when they finally make a play they’ve been practicing, it’s rewarding.

Kasen whacks another puck down the ice, missing the net this time. “I, umm … I might have an in.”

“Warm-up skate, let’s go,” I say, making sure he falls in beside me. “What kind of in?”

“Did you hear what happened … about … well …” He swallows loudly, and I know exactly what he’s getting at. The accident.

“I heard. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. It’s shit. Whatever.” His words are clipped like he’s trying not to cry. “But my deadbeat dad came back to town.”

I debate whether I should say anything, but it’s not fair to let Kasen talk without him knowing the whole truth. “Jensen Hawke.”

Kasen’s eyebrows fly up. “How did you know?”

“I think I’ve known, subconsciously, since we met. He was my best friend in high school.”

He’s not expecting that. I can tell by the way he picks up the pace and avoids eye contact. “Are you still friends?”

“No. I hadn’t seen him until yesterday.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes.”