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To war and back.

And this is the exact kind of familial bond I want my son to experience.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ANDI

Cold radiates from beneath my feet and its frigid tentacles wrap around my legs just above my skates as I swiftly guide Matteo around a small group of novice skaters. The way they hold onto each other or the wall and march along the boards around the perimeter for the rink lets me know it’s their first time.

Matteo's soft, small gloved hand is wrapped in mine and he looks up at me, a soft giggle escaping him, his grey eyes bright with excitement as we continue to move around dodging other people. I love these moments with him—when we both get to share our love for the ice and skating upon the glistening surface.

With Matteo only being five, he isn’t playing hockey at a high level and is still learning. The public skates are great for me to just get him on the ice and move his feet. And they’re good for me too. I get to use the skills I neatly tucked away in a box when I hung up my skates years ago. It’s nice to be back and to be skating with a purpose again.

As we round one corner and the crowd opens up, Matteo wiggles his hand out of mine, looking back up at me again, a huge smile spreading across his face. "Mom, watch what I cando," he says, and I watch as he attempts to transition to facing the opposite direction.

His blades catch a little bit in the ice, but he recovers without falling. His jaw is set, his eyes squinted a bit as he attempts to focus hard on what he's doing. He’s been working on his backwardsCcuts after he learned them during practice a few weeks ago.

I watch him as he attempts to create momentum and begins to glide backwards. He shifts his weight onto his left foot, pushing off the inside edge of his right, creating aCshape as he moves his foot outwards and then back to the center.

"Good job,caro!" I clap as I watch him shift his weight and move his left foot in the same motion he did his right. Matteo's gaze meets mine once more, another grin breaking out across his face as he does a little shimmy of his hips. He displaces his weight, guiding his body as he transitions back to facing the same direction as me, my hand finding his again. "Come on, little man, we only have a little more time left on the ice before we need to get home."

Their evening public skate goes a little later than Matteo's bedtime, but I promised him that we would come out just for a little bit, just so he could get back on the ice. We finish up and it's a little after 7:30 once we get off the ice. We find our bags on the bench outside of the rink and we sit down to get out of our skates. I wipe the slush from his skate blades, making sure they're dry so they don’t rust. My fingers move to unlace his skates before unlacing my own.

Matteo helps me get them into our bags and as we make our way to the door. I pause at a message board with different pamphlets and information, and pull one out, reading over the front. It’s a spring series of scheduled clinics and small area games. It’s exactly what I’m looking for to keep Matteo busy and on the ice during the off season.

Tucking it in my bag, I hold my hand out for Matteo and he slips his into mine as we head out to the car. He lets out a yawn as I lift him into the backseat, making sure he’s secure before I climb into the front. It's a short drive back to the house, and Matteo’s soft voice fills the air as he talks excitedly about skating.

We pull into the driveway and the house is set farther back off the street. It’s not a long drive, by any means, but it isn’t right up against the road out in front. I pull up by the garage, putting the car in park and killing the engine. Matteo’s eyelids are heavy as we catch each other in the rearview mirror and he gives me a sleepy grin.

“Come on,caro. Let’s get inside and get ready for bed.”

He doesn’t disagree and nods as he unbuckles his seatbelt. I do the same with mine, making sure I grab our skate bags before meeting him by his door. He waits for me to get out, undoubtedly a little afraid because of it being a new place and how damn dark it is right now.

I don’t know where the street lamps are, but I’m going to have to remember to turn on the exterior lights here when we’re not home.

Matteo and I head inside and kick our shoes off just inside the front door. “Go upstairs and get ready for bed and I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

He doesn’t argue before jogging up the stairs to the second floor. I hear him go into his bedroom to change before the water starts to run in the bathroom as he brushes his teeth. It’s definitely past his bedtime and I need him to get some solid rest. The past few days have felt so long and overwhelmingly busy.

We drove here on Wednesday morning, so that was a travel day and one to get settled into the house. Yesterday, we ran more errands, which included dropping the paternity test off at the lab, before meeting contractors in the afternoon.

Today, we were able to relax a little bit, but not enough to make up for the hustle and bustle we’ve been caught up in the past few days. I’m hoping that things will slow down after we get the work underway here, but I don’t fully know. This is the first time I’ve been hands on with trying to update a house.

I’m just thankful that it’s a livable house. There really isn’t anything wrong with the condition it’s in now, but investing the time and money into fixing it up will definitely bring in more money. It was mapped out in Bella’s will. One of her wishes was that I would fix the house up to either make it somewhere Matteo and I would want to live or to get more money selling it.

I head into the living room, stopping in the center in front of the TV as I grab the remote from the stand and turn it on. With one hand on my hip, I shuffle through the channels, flipping from one to the next as I try to find something to watch. Matteo comes downstairs after brushing his teeth and I turn my head as he hovers in the doorway. I pause my channel surfing and watch him for a moment. I was planning on heading up to his room after he brushed his teeth.

His forehead creases and a slight tinge of worry flashes in his eyes. “Can I stay with you for a little?” he asks me, his voice a bit timid.

The fear laced in his tone instantly makes me feel guilty for uprooting him and bringing him here.

Our first night here, we were both too exhausted and I fell asleep in his bed while reading him a story. Last night, he started out in his bed, but he never actually went to sleep. He was in there for maybe thirty minutes before I heard his soft footsteps on the hardwood floors. He was excited about having his own bedroom when we first got here, although, this is a strange place to him. It’s only natural for him to have some fear.

“Of course,” I tell him, my arm extending for him to come closer to me. Matteo quickly shuffles across the living roomfloor, the feet of his footie pajamas sliding across the hardwood. He comes over to me, wrapping his arms around my leg as I rub my hand across the top of his back.

He turns his head, looking at the TV. “Oh look, Mom,” he says, pointing at the television. “Hockey is on.”

I look up at the TV, seeing no one other than the Aston Archers lining up in the center of the ice. They're already into the second period, but it looks like it's the start of the second. My eyes scan the screen, my heart pounding in my chest as I see his last name written across the back of his jersey as he gets into position.