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“At least you had years of parenting experience to rely on by then. I dove right into the deep end.”
“Zander, you’re one of the hottest defensemen in The Show right now. If you can handle hockey, you can handle a teenage girl. Have a little fucking faith.”
“Thanks, Vaughn. Honestly, I appreciate the pep talk.”
“No problem, Fane. I’m always around if you need help. Not like I have a fucking life outside of this game, anyway.”
Vaughn finishes his set and leaves the weightroom. At thirty-seven, he’s our oldest veteran. It’s unusual in this sport for guys that age to still be playing pro. I suspect he’ll be retiring soon, but I understand why he hasn’t. He’s still good and fast. Still scores goals. Besides, he’s good for team morale.
I do another rep on my legs and follow it up with twenty minutes of cardio before I call it a day. Callie will be done with school soon, so if I leave now, I’ll beat her home and we can have a serious sit down before she sequesters herself to her bedroom. Or my bedroom rather.
That’s just another one of the many fires to put out; getting us a place where we both have our own beds. And privacy. I travel enough that I at least get a real bed now and again, but sleeping on the couch when home has long gotten old.
There’s just enough time for me to shower before Callie walks in. One of her new friends, Selma, gets picked up every day by her mother. They’ve been giving Callie a ride home for the past week. It’s been nice not having to worry about that anymore. The kid’s grades are good too, so that’s another positive. My mother even sent Callie’s artwork after I requested it. She was ecstatic when it arrived, a rare moment of elation from her lately.
“Hey, Cal,” I greet her when she lets herself in the front door. “How was school?”
“It was good. Nothing eventful,” she answers.
“Come have a seat.”
“I have homework,” she says.
“It can wait a few minutes. I want to talk to you.” She huffs but sets her backpack down and comes to curl up on the end of the couch. Instead of looking at me, she picks at the polish on her nail. Isla took her to get them done with her and Sadie on a ‘girls’ day’. It was the first time she’d ever had a manicure. She loved it. “What’s been going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Callie, come on. Whatever it is, you can talk to me. We’re in this together.” She sucks her bottom lip in, tears springing to her eyes. “Callie?”
“I told Selma about you,” she starts. “That you play for the Blades. She searched for you on the internet.”
Ah, fuck.
“What did she find?”
“Some Seattle gossip site.”
“And what did Selma have to say about that?” Just my luck, my sister finds a friend who is homophobic.
“Nothing,” she blurts. “Well, she said it was wrong that some stranger on the internet would try to out you like that.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Is it true,” she asks, looking vaguely horrified.
Well, fuck. It’s my sister who is the homophobe.
“What if it were?”
“Zander! The Bible says,” she begins.
“No, Callie. The Bible doesn’t say anything of the sort. Not the original texts anyway.”
“Is that true?”
“Yeah, baby girl. But you can look that up yourself. Come to your own conclusions about it,” I say as she picks more polish off. “As for my sexuality, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual. Do you understand what that means?”
“It means you like both boys and girls,” she says, wearing her skepticism all over her face.
