Page 42 of Hard Check
Ice is different. Ice, I’m prepared for. This is betrayal from a Holiday Inn.
Ask for another blanket.
I asked for two. They sent one. This is how I go out.
You’re in Duluth, not Antarctica.
Feels the same. Tell my teammates I was brave.
Dawson had fallen asleep smiling at that one. He wasn’t going to think too hard about the fact he talked more to Leo than he did anyone else, including Justin.
And this morning they’d started up again as soon as Leo woke up. Dawson was surprised they hadn’t let the team sleep in, but he supposed they had to get on the road to Grand Rapids.
Thursday, we’ve only got a morning skate. Free by 11. Any chance you can take the day off?
Dawson pulled up the shop schedule. Thursday was light so far. A tire rotation, an oil change, and a couple other little jobs Ethan could handle alone.
Should be able to swing it. What do you have in mind?
Not telling you. Pick you up after practice?
Leo picking him up meant Leo pulling into a driveway or a parking lot where someone might see Dawson getting into a car that wasn’t his, in the middle of the day, with a guy half the town was already talking about.
I’ll come to you. You aren’t going to give me a hint?
Nope. It’s a surprise.
I don’t like surprises.
You’ll like this one. It might even be better than a meat raffle.
Dawson pocketed the phone and went back to tuning up the snowblower on his bench. They’d be getting more of them as the season turned, and he wanted to stay ahead of it. The carburetor on this one was gummed up from sitting all summer with old fuel in it. He pulled it apart and started cleaning jets, and the detail work quieted his head the way it always did.
His phone buzzed again ten minutes later. He ignored it. Then ignored it again. On the third buzz, he set down the carb cleaner and checked.
He didn’t let himself dwell on how disappointed he was that the message wasn’t from Leo.
Justin
You coming out to the barn this weekend? Need you to look at the fuel pump before the next run.
Dawson wiped his thumb on his jeans. He pulled up the Stags’ schedule on the team website before he could stop himself. Sunday was a home game against Madison.
He stared at the screen for a second, irritated that he’d checked. Was he actually thinking about driving down to voluntarily watch hockey in person? Unlike Leo, sitting in a chilly rinkwasn’t his idea of a good time. If he was going to be cold, he’d much rather be on the snowmobile, racing down groomed trails in the country.
Saturday work?
Yep. Bring beer and I’ll throw steaks on the grill.
The smilefrom Leo’s texts was still on his face when he pocketed the phone. He hadn’t reset it. And when Ethan walked past the bench and said, “Who’s that?”
Dawson didn’t hesitate, and he was grateful that his friend had texted so he didn’t have to come up with a lie. “Justin.”
Ethan nodded and kept walking. Dawson picked up where he’d left off. The carburetor was worse than he’d thought.
Wyatt came through the bay at eleven with Becca beside him, one hand on her lower back, the other holding a paper bag from the bakery on Main Street. She was six months along now, showing enough that she moved carefully on the uneven shop floor, one arm hooked through Wyatt’s like she was steering him instead of the other way around.
“Brought you guys rolls,” she said, setting the bag on the workbench. “Cheddar jalapeño, fresh out of the oven this morning.”
