I made the trek to Arnie’s office in under two minutes. The plaque on the door readOwner & Head Asshole. It fit the cantankerous man.
I rapped three times on the door, and he bellowed from within. “Come in and stop trying to knock my damn door down.”
I grinned as I stepped inside. “Hasn’t anyone taught you to watch your mouth yet? There are children around.”
Arnie scowled at me. “Hasn’t anyone taught you to respect your elders? Being a hotshot doesn’t give you the right to be a dick.”
My grin only widened as I crossed to one of the chairs opposite his desk and lowered myself into it, dropping my bag onto the floor. “How the hell are you?”
“Better than you by the looks of things.” He arched a brow as if challenging me to argue.
“The press are assholes,” I muttered.
Arnie leaned back in his chair. I was pretty sure it was the same one he’d had when I was six and started at his first rink. “They can only do so much if you don’t give them the raw material.”
A muscle in my jaw began to flutter. “I’m doing the best I can.”
Arnie scoffed. “Don’t wanna hear a laundry list of excuses, boy. Just do your job and do it well.”
“Not sure it qualifies as a job if I’m doing it for free.”
The man sitting opposite me scowled, the grooves in his face deepening. “Don’t give me a buncha lip. I might be old, but I can still kick your ass.”
One corner of my mouth kicked up. “I have no doubt. Now, wanna fill me in on this camp?”
Arnie jerked his head in a nod. “We got kids ten and under for this group. You’ll have to split ‘em up when you start scrimmaging, but I got our usual coach to help you out. Figure you two can tag team.”
“Sounds pretty straightforward.”
“Even you should be able to pull it off.”
I chuckled. “Aw, Arnie. I missed you, too.”
“Piss off,” he muttered.
“Hey. The girl working the skate counter. What’s her story? Said she’s a hockey player.”
A shadow passed over Arnie’s face. “Hayden. Good kid. Mom’s a piece of work. Hayden works here summers and after school. Brings her two younger sisters a lot. Get the sense she’s more mom than older sister to them.”
Shit.
“You know you can always call Fallon if you need help in that arena.” My younger sister was a social worker, and her bleeding heart meant that she would fight to the death for any kid who came across her desk.
“Sometimes, the system does more harm than good. Not everyone gets lucky enough to land with the Colsons.”
My parents had been involved with the foster system for as long as I could remember. I had one adoptive brother, Shep, and four foster siblings, Trace, Kyler, Rhodes, and Arden. Fallon was my only blood sibling. Other than the brother we’d lost. I shoved thoughts of Jacob down. I couldn’t deal with that today.
“I get it,” I told Arnie. “But if you sense it’s bad,callher.” Or I would.
Arnie waved me off. “You know I will. Now, get your ass on the ice.”
I grinned as I pushed to my feet and grabbed my bag. It was good to be back. Arnie’s familiar, thorny care was a hell of a lot better than the politics I dealt with on the Sparks. At least with him, I knew he gave a damn. In Seattle, everyone was just watching their own backs.
Heading down the stairs, I heard the din of excited voices. The camp was set to have twenty-four kids. Not a ton, but more than enough. And wrangling them for almost a full day would be a lot.
As I moved in the direction of the chaotic noise, I stopped in my tracks. There was the woman from the parking lot. She was crouched in front of a little boy who had the same turquoise eyes. Her head was bent toward him as she seemed to gently encourage, a faint smear of grease still on her cheek.
The boy beamed up at her like she hung the moon, and I didn’t blame him. But then I put the pieces together. She had a kid in my camp. Which meant she was likely married or had a partner.
