I try not to laugh, and then my heart hurts for him to never have a father tie his skates. “I won’t tell her. My mom used to try also.”

“Not your dad?” he asks, and I look at him, grabbing the other skate and putting it on him.

“Yeah. Most of the time it was my dad, but sometimes when he had a meeting, it had to be my mom,” I say. “Sometimes, if I was really lucky, it would be my big brother.” I smile at him. “He used to come home and come to some of my games, and I would always try to score a goal for him.”

“Did you score?” he asks, not even realizing that I finished tying his skates.

“Most times,” I say. “What about you, do you score?”

“Yeah,” he says, getting up. “I even got a trophy for most goals in the season,” he says. “I got five goals in one game,” he says, and I get up.

“Wow, that’s better than me,” I say. “Walk and see how they feel,” I say. The bell rings, letting everyone know it’s time to get to your place.

“They hurt my feet,” he says, and I nod at him.

“That’s new skates for you. It’ll take a bit to get them worn in,” I say. “Let me go get my skates, and I’ll help you get ready for the ice.” I get up, and three kids come into the room who are older than Dylan.

“Is this group four?” one of them asks.

“Yes,” Dylan says, taking off his skates. I walk outside and find one of the trainers. Actually, he’s the one I picked myself. Ralph plays with me for Edmonton, and his contract is up next year. He is the best on the ice, and you can’t even try to deny it. Stats don’t lie and neither do the results once he hits the ice. He’s also known as the pretty boy on the ice, and one of the few defensemen who still has all his teeth.

“Hey, Ralph,” I call him over. “Dylan Woods, he’s in there with kids who are twelve.”

“Yeah. Did you see him on the ice?” he asks. There were five people in the stands evaluating the kids to make sure they were placed in the right level to help them get better.

“That kid plays like a thirteen-year-old. He just doesn’t have the height,” Ralph says.

“He’s eight,” I say. I knew he had it, but I had to have someone else say it so I knew I wasn’t playing favorites.

“Yeah, well, the kid has it,” Ralph says. I walk away to the room to get my bag and wonder if I should go back to him or not. I grab my bag without thinking twice about it.