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He dropped down behind the makeshift wall, lying flat on his back to stay out of the line of fire. He grinned at the cheers from his team, and the trash talk now flying as fast as the snowballs. The kid who’d called him over was about ten years old, with ruddy cheeks and a warrior’s glint in his brown eyes. “Josh, right?”
Josh nodded, ducking down to avoid getting hit. “Yeah. We’re getting our asses handed to us, man.”
Evan thought briefly about addressing the swearing, then mentally shrugged. He wasn’t the kid’s father, and this was war. Swearing was allowed in war. “Where do you want me?”
“Front line,” Josh barked. “We need more firepower. You’re going to have to stay low, though. Emma was late, so the wall is too short.”
“My mom made me do my chores first,” said a freckle-faced girl with a scowl and heaved a snowball. “Quit being a dick about it.”
“Where’s Colin?” Evan asked, hoping to stave off an argument.
“Far corner,” Josh replied, and Evan poked his head out to see Colin’s arm heave a snowball in his direction. He ducked, and it went sailing harmlessly overhead.
Among the shouts and cries of children, Evan heard a muttered, “Dammit,” and grinned.
“All right, let’s do this,” he declared and picked up a snowball.
3
Forty-five minutes later, a shout of “Emma, Matthew! Time to come inside!” had Evan sagging with a relief that was not shared by his comrades in arms. Groans and wails and cries of “Aw, Mom!” and “Five more minutes!” echoed around him, but the battle ceased, and one by one kids began trudging off towards their homes.
In short order, the yard had emptied of snow warriors, and Evan, sprawled out on his back, wished he’d had the forethought to bring a change of clothes. His jeans were soaked through from rolling around in the snow, and more than one missile had found its way down the collar of his shirt.
“I gotta up my cardio,” Colin wheezed, and Evan turned his head to look at him.
He sat propped against what was left of the snow wall; when they ran out of good snow to pack, the kids had started raiding it for material. He was red-faced and panting, his glasses askew on his face. His hair was sticking up, and his jeans looked just as wet as Evan’s.
They’d wound up on the same team at some point, chucking snowballs side by side, the furious pace of combat requiring all their focus. But it was quiet now, and though it could be his imagination, it seemed to Evan that a subtle tension had invaded the frigid air.
“I’m fucking exhausted,” Evan admitted, nerves springing to life in his belly now that they were alone. “And freezing.”
“Me too,” Colin grunted, and got to his feet. He staggered a little before he found his balance, then held out a hand.
Evan stared at it for a moment, his heart in his throat, then grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet. They stood for a moment, hands clasped and inches apart, tension thrumming almost audibly as their breath mingled in the icy air.
Then Colin dropped his hand and stepped back. He turned, lifting a hand to wave at the last of the kids as they disappeared into neighboring houses, then glanced back at Evan.
“Come on,” he said, his eyes inscrutable behind the lenses of his glasses. “You can warm up at my place.”
They trudged across the lawn in silence. Patches of grass were showing where the kids had trampled the snow or scraped it up for ammo, the winter grass poking up thin and straggly, until they crossed onto the relatively untouched blanket of snow covering Colin’s front yard. They walked the length of the house, past Evan’s Jeep in the drive, and circled to the side door.
Colin tapped in the code on the electronic lock—his childhood cat’s birthday—and led the way into the mud room off the kitchen.
Evan peeled off his jacket, grimacing when a chunk of snow slid down the back of his shirt. “I should’ve brought a change of clothes.”
Colin kicked off his boots. “I’ll bring you a pair of sweats.”
“If it’s no trouble.”
“Of course not. Need a shirt, socks?”
“Yeah.” Careful to match Colin’s mild, casual tone, Evan nodded and hung up his coat. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Colin peeled off his coat and hung it on the hook beside Evan’s, then stepped through the open doorway. “Be right back.”
Evan dragged the stocking cap off his head with a wince. Feeling awkward and anxious, he sat on the low bench against the wall and unlaced his boots. He peeled off his socks, then his shirt, and was wondering if he should go ahead and get rid of his jeans too when Colin reappeared in the doorway.
He'd changed, switching out his jeans and sweatshirt for a pair of gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt. “Here,” he said and tossed a bundle at Evan.
