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We switched places, and I directed Scottie over to one of the benches along the side of the rink.
“You didn’t say you could skate,” Scottie said as he watched Mason do a few warmup laps. I knew because I’d seen him play, and he wasn’t going anywhere near his usual speed.
“I learned when I was a little girl.”
“I wish I could learn. I wish… I wasn’t afraid.”
“Maybe we could try one day together. I heard the group does a visit to the rink sometimes.”
He peeked up at me, barely meeting my gaze, and said, “Maybe.”
No preamble. No explanation. Just a straight, simple answer.
I smiled. It was impossible not to. There was something so endearing about this kid.
“Go Mason brother,” he vigorously clapped as Mason began showing off.
I refrained from rolling my eyes as he whizzed past us, winking at his brother.
At least, I assumed he was.
God, he was gorgeous, with so much power and speed in his legs and arms as he circled the rink again and again. My audience was nothing compared to the one Mason drew. Girls watched him with that dreamy expression while fathers and their sons watched on in awe.
“Doesn’t it scare you when Mason is on the ice?” I asked Scottie.
“He’s very good. Strong too. If he hurts himself, the doctor will fix him.”
“The doctor would fix you too, you know.”
He gave a nervous shake of his head. “I don’t like going to the doctor.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Really?”
Another peek. Another curious glance.
“Really. I don’t like the smell or those plastic chairs in the waiting room. And I really hate needles.”
“I hate needles, too.”
Just then, a succession of loud bangs filled the arena, startling us, and Scottie went deathly still. His fingers curled around the edge of the bench as he closed his eyes and began rocking back and forth, murmuring softly to himself.
“Hey, bud, you okay over there?” Mason rushed over, leaning his forearms on the boards. “Scottie, look at me. It was just a loud noise, buddy. Nothing to worry about.”
But Scottie didn’t respond. The repetitive noises coming from him grew louder and louder until people started to look.
A sense of protectiveness swelled inside me, and I shot them a scathing look. Mason raised a brow, and I shrugged. “They should mind their own business.”
He frowned, coming off the ice to sit on Scottie’s other side. Reaching down, he grabbed the backpack at his brother’s feet and dug out some ear defenders and a fiddle toy. He fitted the defenders onto Scottie’s head and gently pressed the fiddle toy into his hands.
A minute passed, and another, and slowly, Scottie settled.
“Better?” Mason asked, and he nodded. “What do you want to do, buddy? We can stay or go? It’s your choice.”
“I’m hungry for pancakes.”
“Pancakes it is, then.”
