Finally, with the fourth lap, his body remembered what it used to know. His crossover at the corner was smooth and natural. His expression gradually transformed, too, the furrow between his brows slowly dissolving.
I watched for signs of pain in his knee, but he moved with ease. When he glided past me, he was almost smiling.
"How's it feel?"
He didn't answer immediately while he carved a wider turn that took him toward center ice. When he circled back, there was a spark in his eyes I'd never seen before.
"Like coming home."
When he said it, the spark in his eyes hit me square in the chest. I'd fallen for the gruff hermit on Ironhook, but watching him reclaim this part of himself was like seeing him burst into full color for the first time.
The door to the lobby swung open, and something about the change in sound caught my attention. It wasn't mere noise—it was layered and bright, full of motion. Laughter rose above the hum of skates, and the energy in the rink tilted.
"What the hell is that sound?" Wes muttered, squinting toward the far side of the ice.
Then I heard it. Ziggy's laugh, high and unmistakable, rang out across the rink. The cavalry had arrived.
Ziggy was the first I spotted—charging across the ice like a sugar rush in motion, arms flung wide as if he could gather the entire arena into one hug. He attempted a spin, flailed halfway through, and somehow stayed upright.
"Well, holy shit," he called out, breathless. "Is that who I think it is, or am I concussed again?"
Kade followed more slowly, skating backward while guiding a tiny kid in a puffy jacket across the ice with one hand. He gave us a calm, grounded smile that said everything was right with the world.
Behind them, Silas swept into view like he'd never left, hoodie strings bouncing as he weaved through slower skaters with practiced ease.
Rory glided into the mix with a clipboard already in hand and his whistle hanging from a lanyard. He looked every bit the coach, but his eyes sparkled when he saw us.
Then came Brooks. He emerged from the shadows near the tunnel, his strides long and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. He didn't announce himself. He didn't have to. The ice recognized him—and so did everyone else.
Wes glided to a stop, spraying ice crystals in a perfect arc. The move was flawless. Ziggy blinked like he'd seen a ghost with NHL credentials.
Kade added his voice, "Good to see you both again. I didn't know you could skate, Wes."
"The hermit of Ironhook returns," Silas joked. "Hope you're not expecting to stay anonymous skating like that."
Wes's response surprised me. Instead of the defensive humor I'd expected, he smiled—a real one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Anonymous was the plan." He gestured toward the handful of other skaters scattered across the ice. "Figured I could blend in with the crowd."
Rory snorted. "Dude, you threw a hockey stop that would make my varsity team weep with envy. Pretty sure your cover's blown."
Ziggy attempted another spin, and it turned out more graceful. My skin prickled, but Wes caught my eye and winked.
We all drifted into an easy formation, moving around the ice like we'd been skating together for years. Wes participated. He wasn't merely tolerating the conversation. He contributed his own dry observations that made everyone laugh.
Movement near the boards caught my attention. A figure pushed off from the gate with the kind of effortless power that spoke of professional training. Brooks Bennett glided toward us, his strides eating the ice in smooth, measured beats.
Our loose formation naturally widened to accommodate the newcomer. Ziggy straightened slightly, and even Silas made space for the former NHL player. Brooks easily commanded respect without demanding it.
He turned toward Wes. "Hunter, right? I remember you—lefty with a wicked backhand."
Wes replied quietly. "Didn't think anyone remembered me."
Brooks moved closer. "I always remember the ones who lit up the ice, even if it was a short-lived spark."
Rory joined the circle. He held a clipboard covered with what looked like practice schedules and player evaluations.
"I remember back when Brooks told me about you. He said you had instincts that coaches couldn't teach."
