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Her eyes narrowed. “Did you remember my pajamas?”
“Yes.” Ford opened the office door and waited while she stepped into the hall. At seven, she had decided she was old enough to carry her own things and remind him whenever he forgot. Apparently, that included supervising his packing. “Anything else?”
“Snacks.”
“We’re driving to Chicago, not crossing the country.”
Charlotte followed him toward the exit, watching him closely enough that denying it was pointless. “You packed snacks.”
Ford held the outside door for her. “Cole’s turning you into a menace.”
Her smile returned. “You packed his crackers too.”
The Stags staff pass clipped to Ford’s belt tapped against his thigh as they crossed the parking lot. He should have been heading back to the Icehouse. The pregame meeting started in a few hours, and Halsey had spent the morning skate fighting his glove on every shot from the left circle.
Ford had been preparing to stay and fix it when Cole’s message appeared on his phone.
Chicago called. Leaving now. Dressing tonight.
Deluca had found Ford watching the screen beside the bench. Ford hadn’t needed to explain. The entire team knew what a Chicago recall meant to their family now.
“Go,” Deluca had said.
Ford had started to list everything he still needed to do before the game. Halsey interrupted before he made it past the video session.
“I know where my glove is supposed to be,” he’d said. “Take Charlotte and go watch Cole.”
Six months earlier, Ford would have heard how easily they could manage without him. He’d handed Halsey the tablet instead. “Then show me tomorrow.”
He unlocked the truck and put their bags in the back. Charlotte climbed into her seat and immediately found the paper sack beneath her jacket.
“You said we didn’t need snacks.”
“I said it wasn’t a long drive.”
She pulled out the crackers Cole liked and held them up. “These aren’t for me.”
“They are now.”
Ford waited until they were out of the school parking lot before calling Cole. The call went unanswered, which meant he’d probably reached the arena and lost himself somewhere between medical checks, meetings, and trying to learn a lineup before warm-ups.
Charlotte opened her math folder across her lap. “Did you tell him we’re coming?”
“I texted him.”
“What if he doesn’t see it?”
“Then he’ll see us.”
She accepted that and bent over the first page of problems. Ford merged onto the highway with Port Haven shrinking behind them in the mirror.
Retiring had taken one signature. Learning how to walk past the locker room without preparing to play had taken longer. His first week as the Stags’ goalie development coach, Ford had arrived before everyone else and automatically turned toward his old stall. Halsey had caught him and asked whether he planned to coach in goalie pads.
Ford had told him to shut up. Then he’d gone upstairs to the office with his name on the door.
He missed the net. Some days, the loss still caught him hard enough to ruin his mood before breakfast. He didn’t miss wondering whether every bad game would be the one that proved he no longer belonged. The players came looking for him now because they wanted what he’d learned in all those years, including the years he had once considered wasted because Chicago never called.
Beside him, Charlotte erased an answer and worked the problem again without asking for help. She had grown taller over the summer. Her feet nearly reached the floor, and she no longer filled every quiet stretch of a drive simply because she couldn’t handle the silence.
