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“Mom, come on. You know what will happen if—”
“We can’t always protect him from experiencing life, Mase. He’s almost a teenager. He wants to do normal things. And you know how much he loves hockey. Harper is a good influence on him.”
“I know, I just—”
“Mason, Mason brother, look at me.” His voice was a mix of anxious excitement, and everyone stopped to watch Harper guide Scottie all the way to the edge of the rink.
“Surprise.” She peeked up at me, hesitation glittering in her eyes because we’d already had this argument. And I’d told her—I’d fucking told her not to push.
“Scottie thought he might join you and the guys on the ice for a little bit.”
“I’m scared, Mason brother. Really scared. But Harper said you’ll help me.”
“Of course, I will, bud.” Emotion balled in my throat, making it really fucking hard to talk. “I won’t let you fall. And if you do, I’ll help you right back up.”
“Promise?” He stared at me with young, vulnerable eyes. But there was a flicker of determination there too.
“I’ve got you.” I held out my hand, and he took it, letting me gently coax him onto the ice. He started stimming as the sensation pushed him out of his comfort zone, a soft clicking noise to help self-regulate his nervous system.
“Harper, you’re coming, right?”
“I’m right here, buddy.” She skated up beside us. “Wow, Scottie, you’re doing so good.”
“Look who came to join us,” I said casually as my friends approached.
“Hey, Scottie,” Connor came forward. “I don’t know if you remember—”
“Connor Morgan. Number twenty-three. Shutdown defenseman with one of the best records in Lakers history.”
“Good to see you again, kid.” He chuckled.
“Mason brother, please tell your friends I am almost a teenager.”
“You heard the man,” I said around a smile, pride swelling inside me.
Scottie kept his eyes ahead, refusing to look down at his feet. “Think I’m ready for a game?” he deadpanned, and the guys all laughed.
“Little bro’s got jokes,” Leon said. “Hey, Scottie, want to try shooting the puck? Austin likes to think he’s the man, but I bet you can get a goal or two past him.”
My brother looked to me, and I said, “It’s your call, buddy. We can try a few shots or you and Harper can watch me, and the guys try and put one past Austin.”
“I… I want a go,” he said, but I felt his hesitation.
“Why don’t we do a few warmup shots first. Get a feel for it?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“You’ve got this, Scottie.” Harper nudged him gently, a total pro on her skates.
It was like the two of them were old friends. The way he already trusted her. It had irritated me at first. Everything about her had. But now, I only felt gratitude for the way Harper was with him. It was such a rare thing to meet someone who could immediately look past the meltdowns and stimming and his deadpan sense of humor to see the amazing boy beneath all that.
The two of us helped Scottie skate over to one of the nets. Austin moved away, offering his stick to my brother. “It’s all yours,” he said.
“Wow.” Awe wasn’t typically an emotion Scottie displayed, but Austin had clearly floored him.
“Ready?” I asked, and he nodded. “Okay, let’s start with a wrist shot. You’re going to want to put your dominant hand on the top of the stick and your non-dominant hand about halfway down the shaft. Holding your stick like this will help give you proper control and power.”
I demonstrated for him, encouraging him to follow my lead. When he was holding his stick correctly, I moved on to the next part.
