Rusty’s goalie said, “Studying wouldn’t be so bad if it was all watching hockey.”
“Right?” Rusty clapped his hands. “Okay, guys, we have just twenty minutes of ice time left. Let’s get back to practice and after, Cross can tell us all what we’re doing wrong, and then I bet he’d sign stuff for you.”
“Sure,” Cross agreed. He moved over to a seat behind the glass and took out his phone. “I’ll make notes.”
Rusty had meant the “tell us” part as kind of a joke, but it figured Cross would take it seriously.
He gathered his boys together and went back to passing drills, working on drop passes. They were seriously crappy at them, but a few connected. He joked around and nudged, reminded Levi that you can’t pick up a drop pass if you skate ahead of your partner, and Juan that even though Rusty grew up in Kansas, he knew what Spanish swear words sounded like.
By the end of the twenty minutes, they’d worked harder than he’d got out of them all week, and then gathered around Cross for his analysis. Followed by Cross joining them in the locker room and signing everything they put in front of him. Even the least impressed of the non-skaters wanted autographs. TJ did say, “Bet I can get money for that,” while looking at his signed ball cap, but then he put it on his head and tugged it down tight.
Isaiah led the kids out of the rink to catch their buses home, while calling over his shoulder, “Rusty, don’t you let LaCroix run off without me.”
Rusty waved at him, then headed back to the ice to pick up pucks and cones and clear away the nets. When he returned to the locker room, Cross was still there sitting on one of the rough benches. “I miss this,” he said.
“General air of funk and sweat and splintered wood?”
“Hockey.” The sadness in his voice made Rusty ache.
“Won’t be long now, right? I mean, they’re going to do your second surgery tomorrow and that’s no fun. But then you can heal properly and get back on the ice.”
Cross gave him a look that didn’t seem comforted. “I guess.”
Are you scared about the surgery?Not something he could ask Cross in a public place. So he sat down beside him on the bench and unlaced his skates, letting his knee bump Cross’s good one. Well, better one. He was barely started rehabbing even that good leg.Fuck. Poor guy.But Rusty knew Cross would reject any attempt at sympathy. “How did you get here? Uber or car service?”
“The service. We’re paying for it anyway.”
“Too bad.”
“Why?”
“Means we won’t ride back together.”
“Sure we can. I told him I was done for the day. If you don’t give me a ride, I might have to sleep on this bench.”
That crooked smile looked good on Cross’s mouth. Rusty was tempted to steal a fast kiss when Isaiah came bustling in. “Hey, Cross, you’re still here. Great!”
“You told me not to let him run away.” Rusty pointed out, as if that’d been a hardship.
“I’m not doing much running these days.” Cross tapped a crutch leaning against the bench.
Isaiah put his shoulders against the lockers opposite them. “It was a big deal for those kids to have you even show up and sign stuff, but what you did, with coaching them? That was dope. They learned a lot, hell, I learned a lot. And I know you’re a busy man, and we’re just some lame-ass program for kids who are never going to make the NHL—”
“Don’t sell Juan short,” Rusty put in. The thirteen-year-old had some natural talent and a hell of a lot of drive.
“Other than Juan.” Isaiah flashed a mock-glare at him. “But it would mean a lot if you wanted to do it again sometime.”
Rusty nudged Cross. “Instead of sitting around home counting your classic cars, you could come down to this dingy locker room and hang out with teenagers. Whaddya say?”
Cross ignored him to nod to Isaiah. “I’d like that. I have another surgery tomorrow, but once that’s healing, I’d be happy to come by again. Do you want me to arrange it with you?”
“Sure. Or just stop by. Or let Rusty know you’re coming. That works too.” Isaiah bent to hold out his hand to Cross, his long fingers engulfing Cross’s. “Thanks. I’m a huge fan and I can’t wait to see you back out on the ice. Go, Rafters. But this here with the kids?” He tapped his chest. “This is my heart, you know?”
“I can see that.”
Isaiah said to Rusty, “See you tomorrow,” and headed out.
Cross stared after him. “Did he play professionally?”
