Dad and I climb to the best spot on the bleachers in the barn when we're finally inside the arena, our wet outerwear hanging in the foyer where it's warm and can dry out a bit.

The guys all went into the locker room to change into practice gear. I shift nervously, huddling into my sweater for comfort when they appear in a trickle, taking to the ice to warm up, doing fast sprints and short turns.

"Is this really a good idea?" I ask my father when Galen emerges, barely recognisable in the protective training uniform and helmet the guys gave him. I know him simply from the smooth way he moves. My dad turns his head to give me a disconcerting look, which I dodge - expertly - making him snort mockingly.

We always come here with the new guys before they start with the program so they can all suss each other out. It helps the new recruits see what they will be dealing with while loosening them up, eliminating some of the tension about the unknown. It also allows the other guys to see what tips they could give them.

Training at the Farm constantly has the guys living on the edge between being rivals competing to get picked for the big leagues and being comrades in arms. It is worse for the boys in our house since they become family. Still, a win for one tends to cascade down with benefits for all.

The main goal right now is for Daddy and Tucker to assess Galen and see if he has what it takes to make it here and how they could help him succeed.

I've never questioned it before.

"Tucker is always in such pain afterwards," I voice my other concern to distract my father from the suspicious path his brain is obviously starting to wander onto. It's the right path because I will not enjoy seeing Galen get knocked around, even if I know the guys won't let him get seriously injured.

I have ridiculously strong protective instincts when it comes to the guy, and I barely know him! I'm a naturally empathetic and motherly person, but it still makes no sense how strongly I feel for this particular boy. It scares me a little.

Dad gave the guys the usual speech containing chocolate-related threats. It always keeps them from becoming too enthusiastic in testing each other's limits, but it can still get rough out there. What if Galen decides this is not for him, and he leaves?!

Nooooooooo!

"Yes, but he lives for moments like these," my dad says, watching Tucker glide onto the ice. "We cannot take it away from him."

That is true. Tucker tries to get some skating practice in every day, but it's usually just a few fast rounds around the rink to get the feel of it and light drills by himself or with one other player. He seldom plays pick-up games with the boys because it takes a heavy toll on his knee, even with the brace taking most of the punishment.

After his terrible fall ten years ago, he spiralled badly while his dreams collapsed around him. My dad went to find him after a failed suicide attempt landed him back in hospital under suicide watch. He brought him home to us.

Tuck was a shadow of his former self, but my parents nursed him back to life, and bit by bit, he was able to start living again. He was in so much pain. Physically and emotionally. I was not quite eight years old yet at the time, but I can still clearly remember the hell he went through and how much my parents suffered along with him.

About six years ago, my dad's friend, Job Mwangi, Jax's uncle, introduced them to a friend of his who owns an innovation hub in Briar Cove. Ryan Drake and two students who were interning at his company spent a couple of weeks here observing Tucker and working with him.

They did a lot of incomprehensible measurements and tests, and then they left. A couple of months later, they returned with a special leg brace they had created for him, which they spent a few days tweaking and perfecting with Tucker's cooperation.

Inspecting this brace has had Jeroen in ecstasy many times.

He calls it an engineering masterpiece. I have no idea how it works, but I know there are hydraulics involved. That was the only word in Jeroen's excited speech I actually understood. The important thing is that the brace got Tucker back on the ice, which made a massive impact on his quality of life. Every couple of years, the brace is upgraded.

Tucker mentors our boys, and the Farm pays him to mentor some of the other boys who need extra help as well. He has been instrumental in the success of many ice hockey champions in the last five years, and he derives a lot of pure joy from it.

"He always looks so happy when he's out there," I smile, watching the man who is both a big brother and a second father to me.

"He is," my dad agrees, grinning fondly. Tucker is the son and brother he never had.

Dad and I watch him explain to Galen what is about to happen, and I slap a hand over my mouth, suppressing happy giggles when I see the new guy's defiant bravery.

He is so friggin' cocky!

Not in the annoying, arrogant way some of the other guys I've met tend to be. Galen's cockiness is more endearing. It's like David against Goliath, fearlessly swinging his slingshot, telling the giant to bring it on. He has the kind of cockiness that makes people want to rally behind him... or wrap him up in a blanket burrito for a cuddle.

I find the word cuddle extremely inspiring when Galen is part of the sentence.

"I don't think Gan ever backs down from anything," I sigh wistfully, watching him take on the rest of the guys. He doggedly continues to serve the puck to Tucker in well-placed saucer passes while the others try to run interference with increasing aggression. The speed and grace with which he moves are leaving me breathless, and it's not just because I have a massive dye-me-pink-and-dip-me-in-honey crush on the guy. My dad is also mesmerized, watching him with a pleased smile.

At first, the others keep their distance, simply getting in the way without actually engaging with him. They are gauging Galen's skill levels, gradually adjusting to it, and I'm soon seeing them check him hard enough to make him fall.

I hate that!

The violence is why I don't like watching hockey matches. I always stress and worry for the guys. I never show it, but I often feel upset while I rub their sore limbs and patch up minor injuries. I did an extensive first aid course to be able to take proper care of our guys after their matches. I prefer taking care of Robbie's blisters and muscle aches because his pain isn't generally caused by me trying to beat him up.

Galen doesn't stay down, and he doesn't stop the play once or ask for a time out to catch his breath. He fights back with a relentless passion that makes my pulse leap excitedly. Every time he gets slammed to the ice, he gets back on his feet as fast as he can, diving into the fray for more. He might not be very intelligent. That's okay; our 12 children can inherit his looks and my brains...

Oh! And his accent! They absolutely must have his accent. That is not negotiable.

"Nope, I don't think he ever backs down," my father agrees with a gentle smile, and I once again see the almost sad look I saw in his eyes earlier when he was stroking the back of Galen's neck in that fatherly way.

"Why do you care about him so much?" I decide to use the blunt approach, and my father's smile falters, growing sombre.

"I care about all our boys," he deflects, and I roll my eyes, snorting most ungracefully, which makes him laugh. It's true; he does, but he knows what I mean.

"I used to know his parents really well a long time ago," he finally admits after a stretching silence. "I promised to look out for him."

Well, that's not too surprising. Dad has many old school friends (like Uncle Job) and ice hockey friends and friends from all over the world who crossed his path at one point or another. He is, after all, a really likeable fellow.

Many of his friends and acquaintances' sons and nephews have passed through our house. Some of their daughters too, but that never worked out very well. Dad found the co-ed situation in our house too much to handle.

To be honest, so did I.

It's not that I don't like girls, but the few who'd stayed with us for a while when they took part in competitions hosted here by the figure skating academy were exhausting. I had to have a roommate a few times, and they generally couldn't cope with me and my bizarre ways. That's what the last one said.

Besides, we often were each other's competition on the ice. That just made it awkward.

The logistical mess of having a bunch of horny guys mixed with girls on the second floor gave my dad and Tucker heartburn. That's what they always said. Dad rarely takes in girls now. Once in a while, we change his study - upstairs with us - into a temporary room for someone's daughter, and that works out better. Fortunately, the requests are few and far between because girls change the house dynamic drastically.

I think most people think it best not to send their daughters to an ice hockey boarding house for males. I know I'm a girl too, but it's different. I grew up in this situation. The guys don't drool over me and I don't drool over them... well... not usually... Galen is just... Uhm...

I'll figure it out.

Our neighbour, Mrs. Riley, occasionally enjoys having a couple of female house guests, so my dad often makes use of her generosity whenever a friend's daughter or niece needs a place to stay during a tournament. Bren has also given a home to one or two from time to time.

I don't think I've ever seen Dad look at any of our boys quite the way he looks at Galen, no matter who asked him to look out for him. I know he genuinely cares about all of them, but there's clearly something he is not telling me about Galen. I won't get it out of him before he is good and ready to let me in on it.

Oh! I hope he's not my brother!! Eeeeeeeeeeeek!

No, Galen is a few months older than me, which means that he was born after my parents had been married for at least two years, and my dad would never have cheated on the love of his life. I hope he lets me in on what exactly it is about the boy that has him smiling so fondly while he watches him nobly stand his ground against the guys.

For now, I just sit with my heart in my throat, watching the new boy having a blast, playing an increasingly wild casual game with his new housemates. They are three on a side, with Tucker as referee.

A ref who just scored a goal! 

I can tell that Galen is enjoying himself because his beautiful laugh rings out every time someone yells something insulting at him, and he chirps them back.

"He works really well with Denny and Kame," I observe, seeing Galen flip the puck up and forward with the flat of his stick's blade, dodging past Jax to catch it on his blade again and pass it to Kame for a beautiful goal. I only ever see fancy moves like that from well-trained players.

"Yes," my dad agrees. "He'll get far in pro hockey if he can straighten out his head."

Usually the new guys are eager to prove themselves and will play a bit selfishly, chasing goals. Galen plays as if he enjoys being part of a team consisting of skilled members. He taps into their strengths and tries to cover their weaknesses, happy to assist them in scoring goals. We both laugh when he surprises Naresh with some fast fakes and an aggressive wrist shot, his stick making a nice strong scraping sound on the ice as he snaps his wrist, sending the puck into the net.

Beautiful!

"Didn't Gan just score against Jax's team?" I laugh when Galen sassily does Jax's victory dance, and Jax happily joins in the celebration. The two idiots are wiggling their butts and jiving around like the morons they are while Naresh just shakes his head, laughing.

"Naresh gave Jax a tough time last week drilling him hard when it was his turn to train with him," my dad chuckles. "He probably sees Gan scoring off him as sweet revenge."

Dad has the boys on a rotation where they all get turns training one-on-one with each other in the evenings. He leaves how they train up to them to decide. Sometimes, the pair will go for a run or lift weights. Other times, they will take to the ice or do stick drills on or off the ice.

Nobody knows who won the match when Tucker finally calls an end to the game. They were having fun and not keeping count. The boys make their way off the ice, and I can feel their exhilaration from here. This is the part I love about ice hockey: the camaraderie these guys have and their sheer joy in playing the game.

"How crooked is his head, Dad?" I ask, feeling worried now while I watch Galen and Jax mucking around on the ice, lagging behind the rest gathering at the bleachers. He doesn't look like someone with severe mental health issues or twisted views on life or whatever my dad was referring to. He looks strong and healthy. Last night, he was out of it and seemed extremely vulnerable and depressed, but surely that was just homesickness and travel exhaustion.

Earlier, when he played in the snow with Denny and me, our walk turning into a snowball fight - which Jax, Naresh, Kame and Jeroen eagerly joined - his eyes had been filled with light and life. There was no sign of depression or any other heavy emotions.

He'd seemed so happy.

"I'm not sure, Hunny," my dad sighs, watching Galen leave the ice, excitedly chatting with the other guys. Like me, he flinches, noticing the blood through the bars of the boy's helmet. I think Galen's nose might be bleeding, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"All I know is that he's been through the wringer a few times too many in this life," my father says with a heavy sigh, and I watch his eyes darken with compassion. The idea of Galen suffering, of his smile being missing and his bright eyes dulled with pain, is causing me severe indigestion. I can feel the mash and sausages I ate broiling bitterly in my stomach, and I shake my head, clearing my mind of sad thoughts.

My father is silently watching Galen strip off his gloves, his eyes troubled when he suddenly turns his attention to me. "You're going to have to guard your heart with this one, love," he tells me, giving me a searching look. My father always reads me way too accurately. "The boy needs all the help we can give him, but I don't want you getting your heart broken in the process. I need you to be careful."

I'm surprised to hear him say this to me. He has never lectured me about any of the boys before. Not even the worst of them. He usually counts on my assistance while he helps them find their way. All we can really do for them is just be there for them. Sometimes, we're sounding boards for them to get their thoughts straight. Sometimes, we provide a shoulder to cry on or a friend to have some fun with.

I've cared deeply for many of the boys who came into our lives and loved some more than others - Denny being a shining example - but my dad has never been worried about me getting my heart broken before. I know he doesn't just mean in the usual way, where I'm sad when life takes them away from us when they find their way. We keep in touch. Sometimes, it fizzles out over time; sometimes, it doesn't.

Looking at Galen, I know that my heart truly is in a different kind of danger this time. I don't know why he has such a profound effect on me, especially so quickly after meeting him. It's baffling me, and it's scaring me, but I didn't realise that my father saw or felt it too.

Just how obvious is my uncharacteristic reaction to Galen?

"A little over a month ago, he nearly died," my dad suddenly says, making my blood run cold. "He overdosed on some really strong pain medication. He insists that it was an accident, but..." He ends his sentence with a shrug and pushes a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than the hoodie did on his way here. I can feel the tension my father is fighting to keep under control and hidden. He is truly concerned about the boy, and that frightens me. He must be really worried for him just to come out and tell me all this.

Gazing at Galen struggling with the clasp of his helmet, my heart breaks at the thought of him nearly dying, whether it was by accident or not. He seems so vibrantly alive right now; the idea of him being anything less is too much for me to handle, and I hastily turn my head to look at my father instead.

"We're going to help him find his way, aren't we, Hunny?" he smiles, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to me.

"Yes, we are," I say through a throat that has all but closed up, grabbing my father's hand so he can pull me to stand.

I did not like hearing any of that.

I turn my eyes to once again look at the happy boy, laughing with Naresh and Kame, and my heart contracts painfully in my chest. I don't want to think about the possibility of that spirited young man dying. I hope it was an accident.

"Yes," I say again, more firmly this time, but my dad is not beside me anymore; he is at the bottom of the bleachers, helping Galen remove his helmet so he can assess the extent of his injuries.

We've had boys here in similar states before. Boys that were so lost and broken, it was torture to be around them. We could only listen when they needed to talk and show them that they had a safe place in life. They all eventually found a new purpose and new hope here in Cristalcrest where a person's baggage gets stripped away until they get to see themselves.

Some of them became pro hockey players, winning spots in good teams, and others decided on different courses. All of them found healing in this bleak, cold world of ours where the love is warm and the caring sincere.

We might not always know what to do to help them, but what we lack in wisdom and knowledge, we make up for in determination. If I have any say at all, Galen is going to find his joy and live his dreams, even if my heart gets broken in the process.

I swear, his saucy smile will never leave his face again!

~~~