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“Dad.”

The sound of his voice. The single word that falls from his lips that holds more weight than anyone will ever understand. My heart stumbles over itself in my chest, my eyes immediately flashing to Matteo’s as I pinch the laces of his skates between my fingertips.

“What’s up, bud?”

“Do you think you might come out on the ice too?” The hopeful smile on his face dissolves as he glances down at the cast still wrapped around my wrist. “I forgot,” he says quietly, his eyebrows pulling together as a frown tugs his lips downward.

A lump lodges itself in my throat and I release his foot after tying his skate. “Well, I’m not supposed to be playing.” I don’t mention the fact that I was told to stay off the ice until further notice. I can’t stomach the disappointment etched in his features. “But if I just come out, I’m not technically playing.”

Matteo’s eyes widen and a huge smile cracks across his face. “So, you might come out?”

I tip my chin towards my chest and lift it. “I’ll talk to the coaches before the clinic starts.”

Matteo’s beams at me. “Okay.” He rises to his feet and slides his helmet over his head. “Can you help me with my straps?”

I get to my own feet and reach for him, pulling the straps from his cage back to the snaps behind his ears. I press them in on each side, listening for the snapping sound. I grab his chin strap, connecting the two pieces before tapping him on the helmet. “Go get ‘em, kid.”

He tilts his head up, looking at me once more with determination set deeply in his features. He slides his hands into his gloves, gives me a nod, and marches out of the locker room. I stare at the door, my heart swelling in my chest. I still have so much to learn about this little guy, but goddamn, he’s my kid without a doubt.

My arm is heavy from the cast and instinctively, I hold it across my chest as I follow him out. I see Matteo’s number on the back of his practice jersey, lost in a sea of little people crowded by the door. One of the coaches blocks their way, keeping them out as another coach gets the equipment ready for their drills.

It looks like they’re the only two here today, so I head over to the one by the door. He pushes it open, letting the kids hop onto the ice.

“Excuse me, Coach,” I say as I reach him. He looks over at me, eyes widening with recognition as he scans my face. “I’m not sure I can be of much use, but if you need another helper on the ice, I’m more than willing to.”

His throat bobs. “We would love to have you out there.” He pauses. “You’re Carson Ford, right? Aston Archers defensemen?” He holds out his hand. “Coach Dan.”

“In the flesh,” I tell him with a smile and take his offered hand. My gaze drifts past him in time to see Matteo wipe out along the blue line. A chuckle escapes me as he pops back uplike a spring. “That one is mine,” I say, pointing to Matteo as he starts to skate around the rink with the rest of the kids.

I’m in awe as I watch him begin to move. He’s a little unsteady at times, but he’s a complete natural. It’s as if the kid was born with a pair of skates on his feet. Then again, it’s in his DNA.

“Do you have skates with you?”

I nod. “In the car. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Awesome,” he nods eagerly, a smile brightening his expression. I leave him where he’s at, head out to my car and find my spare pair of skates I keep in the trunk. It’s a strange habit, but then again, it comes in handy sometimes.

The kids are all lined up to start their first drill when I step onto the ice. Pushing off with my inside edges, I bend my knees, heading in their direction as I hold my arm across my chest. It feels fucking weird, but it’s manageable.

I shift my weight, my blades cut through the ice and create a layer of snow as I come to a stop by Coach Dan and the kids. Matteo’s eyes are glued to mine, watching me with enough admiration to pull my heart directly from my chest.

Coach Dan introduces me to the other coach, Coach Jackson, before turning back to the kids.

“Kids, this is Coach Carson. He plays for the Aston Archers and was so kind to offer to help us today.” Whispers break out within the crowd of kids and I swear I hear Matteo say something about his dad. Coach Dan pauses, nodding to the other coach. “We’re going to start with a little game of red light, green light on the other half of the ice.”

Coach Jackson glances at me and gives me a quick nod before directing his attention back to the group of kids. They’re all chatting, racing down towards the other goal line, where they are supposed to start the game. I don’t miss the way they all glanceat me, their little mouths moving a mile a minute as they line up along the red line.

“Coach Jackson, can I get you on one side and Coach Carson on the other?” Coach Dan looks at the kids. “All right, everyone. Coach Carson and Coach Jackson are going to watch to see if we have any cheaters. When I yell ‘green light,’ skate as fast as you can toward the neutral zone. When I yell ‘red light,’ you have to stop. If you don’t stop or we catch you moving, you go back to the goal line.”

Their little voices break out into chatter again and although I can’t make out the words, excitement and anticipation charges the frigid air around us.

And then the game begins.

He yells “green light” and they all begin racing, their little legs attempting to carry them quickly across the ice. A few lose their footing and another catches an edge in the ice and topples over. Laughter fills the air, Coach Dan yells “red light” and they all attempt to stop.

By the time he says “green light” for the third time, they’re down to five out of thirteen kids left playing. Matteo is one of them. Determination is set in his brow and his knees are bent, his body anticipating the next time he’s supposed to move.

Pride fills me and I watch with my stomach twisting in anxiety as they start to move again. He’s inching closer to the neutral zone and after another call for them to stop, just Matteo and one other kid are left.