Page 159 of Wild Card 13

I blinked.

Tina sighed with affection. “We are working on greetings before engineering assessments.”

“It matters,” Theo demanded.

“Blade curve,” I answered the boy.

His eyes came back to me, a little more interested.

Tina smiled, but there was emotion behind it now. “My sister has wanted to bring Niko to something like this for a long time.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Tina squeezed Theo’s hand. “So are we.”

By the time group two made it onto the ice, I had almost allowed myself to believe the morning would hold.

Then Niko reached center ice and froze.

It happened quickly and then all at once.

A clap came from the spectator section. Not loud by arena standards. Barely anything. But another parent joined in, and then someone behind the glass cheered, and the sound bounced off the boards in a way it had not in the lounge. Niko’s shoulders shot up toward his ears. His hands released his adaptive stick. The small sled beneath him turned slightly as the volunteer beside him stopped moving immediately.

His face crumpled.

The entire rink seemed to inhale.

His mother started forward from the boards, but Freya was already beside her, voice low, one hand lifted in clear permission-seeking rather than restraint. The volunteer stayed close without touching Niko. Tasha lowered her camera instantly.

I moved toward the gate.

Before I reached it, Alois sat down on the ice.

Not near Niko. Not crowding him. Several feet away, legs bent awkwardly in front of him, stick resting across his knees, enormous body made intentionally still.

He said nothing.

Niko cried harder for three seconds. Then his eyes flicked toward Alois.

Ty saw it too.

He did not rush. That was the first thing I noticed. Every instinct in him was motion, but he held it back. He approached in a slow curve, stopping outside Niko’s reach before lowering himself to one knee on the ice.

“Hey, Niko,” he said. “Bad news.”

Niko hiccupped.

Ty rested his forearms on his raised knee. “I was told this was a skating event, but apparently Müller has decided it’s sitting practice.”

Alois looked at him. “It is sitting practice.”

Ty nodded gravely. “That’s what I heard.”

Niko’s crying changed shape, finally loosening at the seams.

Ty reached slowly into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the blue earmuffs. “These are brand new,” he said. “So new they still have a dangly tag.”

A tiny sound came from somewhere behind me. Bea, probablyfighting for her life against blubbering. I was impressed with her constant triumphs over pregnancy hormones.