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Hoss, who had been hunched over his notes, glanced up. "Told ya. Cold Pines is more than just fish and ice—it's a community."
He was right. It was a real, functioning community, something rare in the wider world. We started talking about Eddie. I wanted to check in with Hoss on his mentorship progress.
"He’s made a lot of progress, but he can still use some fine-tuning," Hoss reported, twirling his pen between his fingers.
"I get it," I said, nodding. Hoss's words now carried weight with me. I trusted his opinions. "Let's work on both mentoring him. If we do a good job, we’ll be easing him into the big time by this time next year.”
Hoss grinned, capping his pen and leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, like a two-man forecheck. I'm in." His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. "You up for a drink at Lou's? I need to get out of this office before I turn into a tactical play chart."
I chuckled. "Yeah, sure, let's do it."
I was starting to love Lou’s, sitting right on the waterfront. It was the kind of place where the floorboards creaked with history, and nautical paraphernalia cluttered the walls. It smelled of aged wood and spilled beer, a better combo than expected.
As we pushed through the door, a gentle hum of conversation welcomed us. Lou, the bar's gruff but big-hearted owner, waved from behind the counter. "Pete, Hoss! Your usual spots are open."
"Thanks, Lou," Hoss said as we stepped up to stools at the bar.
Just before we reached our spots, I overheard a couple of grizzled fishermen at a corner table, animatedly arguing over lobster traps. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I caught a snippet of their chatter.
"...traps are good, but you know what's better? Having young blood like Pete and Hoss around. You heard they're together now, right?"
I glanced at Hoss with an eyebrow raised. Before we could react, one of the fishermen looked up and caught my eye. He nodded, fueled by an expression somewhere between approval and respect, and then he went back to sparring about traps as if nothing had happened.
We slid onto our stools, and Lou handed me a beer bottle and Hoss his Coke glass.
"To a town that surprises you when you least expect it," Hoss said, raising his glass.
I clinked the glass with my bottle. "To finding something solid, both on and off the ice."
As we sat there, relaxing into the town’s comfortable vibe, Hoss's phone buzzed. He read the message, chuckled, and shook his head.
"Eddie's stoked. Says you're the kind of coach he’s always wanted."
* * *
Something was different when we hit the ice for the next night's game. Our skates felt lighter, and our moves were more fluid. The team locked in like never before. Hell, even the crowd seemed to sense it—every pass, every shot generated an electrifying roar that shook the rink from the bleachers to the rafters.
Eddie was on fire, zigzagging past defensemen as if they were cones in a practice drill. I caught a glimpse of Hoss on the bench, scribbling something down—probably noting the rookie's performance.
Our eyes would meet every so often, and I’d forget about the rest of the world, if only for a split second. But that was enough. A split second was all it took to remind me how damn lucky I was to have him by my side.
By the end of the second period, we were up by three. The tension that usually clawed at my insides was conspicuously absent. I looked at the team as they took spots on the bench during a time out—Waller, Jensen, Taylor, Eddie—everyone was feeling it.
The third period was a formality, but we didn't let up. Not one bit. When the final buzzer sounded, I exhaled and took it all in. The team swarmed Eddie, who'd scored the final goal, but I only had eyes for one person.
Hoss was already looking at me as I turned toward him. Time slowed as we walked toward each other, the celebration around us becoming a colorful blur. I hugged him tightly to me. He was all that really mattered.
We didn't say anything. We didn't have to. Our hands met in a high-five, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.
We’d nailed it. What we had was rock solid, both on and off the ice. We were partners in every damn sense of the word.
* * *
Most all of my concerns had melted away, so I made one up to fill the void. We couldn’t fall asleep at the wheel. We needed to stay vigilant, both Hoss and me. Everything could fall apart as quickly as it came together.
The next evening, I joined Hoss at his apartment for dinner. His place was a little shaggier than mine, but it was still comfortable. A couple of jerseys lay draped over an aged couch and mismatched overstuffed chair. He had a single baby jade plant perched on a windowsill.
As I entered, he stood at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled divine. My best guess was Italian, the pungent smell of garlic drifting past my nose.
