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She walked into the living area to find Wes setting down two pizza boxes on the small table in the kitchenette. Carter followed behind him carrying a paper sack.

“What’s in there?” Riley asked, peering into the bag.

“Extras,” Wes said. “Napkins, plates, forks, as well as breadsticks, salad and drinks. I got root beer and Sprite.”

“Yum,” Riley said. “I love Sprite.”

They gathered around the table in the sitting area, knees bumping. Kodiak flopped in the dog bed Wes had provided for him, thumping his tail hopefully every time a piece of crust came within sniffing distance.

As they ate, the children filled in the silence with their usual chatter. Through it all, Hannah was struck by how gentle Wes was with them. He didn’t talk down to them or wave away their feelings.

She’d forgotten how easy it could be, sharing a meal with him.

After dinner, she tossed the empty boxes in the trash and wiped the table while Wes made sure the kids found their gloves and hats.

“Skating time?” he asked.

“Yes!” Carter whooped, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry to get to the door.

As promised, the outdoor rink was only a short walk away. She thought the kids would be exhausted by now after their long day and an hour at the pool but they skipped along through the thin layer of snow still coating the sidewalk.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Riley exclaimed when they reached what looked to be a neighborhood skating rink. “It looks like a Christmas movie.”

Hannah could not disagree. Strings of white and colored lights crisscrossed overhead, reflecting on the smooth sheet of ice. A large Christmas tree glittered at one end, ornaments winking through the darkness. Holiday music drifted through the air, mingling with the swish of skates.

They rented skates of their own and laced up on a bench near the rink. She helped Riley with hers while Wes knelt in front of Carter to help with his, tugging the laces to make sure they were snug.

The sight of this big, tough-looking man carefully tying a little boy’s skates made her feel suddenly breathless.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” both kids said in unison, clutching to them as they stood.

The first few minutes on the ice were wobbly chaos. Carter nearly took her down twice. Riley clung to the side rail, inching along.

“Bend your knees a little,” Wes coached. “You’ll feel steadier.”

He moved easily on the ice, as if he had never stopped skating, gliding backward in front of the kids, hands out, ready to catch them. He had played ice hockey with her brothers, she remembered. She used to love going to their matches with her friends, cheering wildly from the sidelines.

Slowly, the kids found their balance, around the time Hannah started feeling more comfortable too. Riley pushed away from the rail, tentative at first, then more confident. Carter copied everything his sister did, crashing now and then but popping right back up.

“Watch me!” he called frequently.

“I am,” Wes answered every time, smiling down at the boy.

As she watched them, Hannah tried to savor the moment, the children shrieking with laughter, their cheeks rosy under the lights. She tried not to focus on the grim, inevitable truth that soon enough, Wes would be leaving her once more.

He circled back to her. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“I haven’t skated in a while,” she admitted. “I still suck at it.”

“You’re doing fine. Come on.”

He held out his hand. For a long heartbeat, she stared at it. Then she placed her fingers in his palm. He tugged gently, pulling her away from the rail.

As they slipped into an easy rhythm, the years seemed to drop away with each glide. Suddenly she was nineteen again, home for Christmas break of her sophomore year of college, the air so cold it bit her lungs, bright stars scattered above the little rink back in Shelter Springs.

That night had started like this. Friends, laughter, the fire department’s floodlit rink at the park.