Page 92 of Man Advantage

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sad you’re missing Halsey’s game?”

Ford tightened his grip on the wheel. Charlotte had also become better at asking questions he couldn’t brush aside.

“A little,” he said. “I like being there.”

“But you want to see Cole more.”

“Tonight, yeah.”

She nodded and returned to her math. “Halsey understands.”

“He does.”

Ford watched Cole find them during warm-ups. Cole glided through the neutral zone with his attention on the drill until Charlotte stood and pressed both palms to the glass. She didn’t pound on it or scream. She waited in the Chicago jersey she’d talked Ford into buying on their way to the seats, certain Cole would look. It didn’t have his name on the back. Ford had promised her they would buy that one if Chicago reassigned him permanently.

Cole’s stride broke when he did. His gaze landed on Charlotte first and then moved to Ford beside her. The grin that spread across his face had nothing to do with hockey. He skated close enough to tap the blade of his stick against the glass in front of Charlotte before the next player in line called him back into the drill.

Charlotte dropped into her seat. “He saw us.”

Ford sat beside her, still holding the smile Cole had sent across the ice. Deluca’s favor had given them seats close enough that Charlotte could follow Cole without relying on the video board, along with two credentials waiting at will call for after the game. She had learned more hockey in the past year than Ford expected from most adults. During Cole’s second shift, she leaned toward him and asked why the Chicago defenseman kept pinching when Cole was already low in the zone.

“Because he trusts Cole to cover for him,” Ford said.

Halfway through the second period, Cole took a pass along the boards and sent it across the slot before the defender could close on him. Patrick buried it from the far circle.

Charlotte was out of her seat before the goal horn sounded. Ford stood with her, shouting Cole’s name while Patrick pointed at him on the way to the bench.

During the second intermission, Ford checked the score in Port Haven while Charlotte worked her way through an order of fries beside him. The Stags were ahead by one, and Halsey had stopped everything through two periods. Ford sent him a message he would see after the game, then put the phone away when Charlotte nudged the tray toward him.

Chicago protected the lead through the third. Cole didn’t score. He blocked a shot on the final penalty kill, cleared the puck, and stayed on the ice until the horn. It wasn’t the kind of performance that would lead the highlights, but the coach caught the back of his neck as they left the bench and said something that made Cole nod.

Ford had spent too much of his life measuring a career by the calls he hadn’t received. Watching Cole disappear down the tunnel, he understood that one night could be enough without having to promise anything about the next one.

Charlotte took his hand as the crowd began filing toward the exits. “Can we see him now?”

“As soon as he changes.”

“How long does that take?”

“Longer if you ask every thirty seconds.”

She checked the time on the scoreboard. “Okay. I’ll wait a minute.”

Ford laughed and led her into the concourse. The credentials Deluca had arranged got them through the first checkpoint, and an arena employee escorted them the rest of the way to the family area.

Cole came through the secured door wearing the suit he’d arrived in, his hair still damp from the shower. Charlotte waited until the staff member waved them forward before running to him. Cole dropped his bag in time to catch her.

“You got a point,” she said into his neck.

“Hello to you too.”

“Patrick scored, but you helped.”

Cole shifted her higher against his side. “I did.”