“Good and good. She’s the most natural performer I’ve ever seen,” I say, keeping my head down and walking circles in the thick, rich green grass. “You’d never know this is her first tour.”
“It sounds like she’s got the right man on her side.” He pauses, and I overhear snippets of another conversation before he comes back to ours. “Does she know about your past experiences with touring?”
I could almost chuckle at how boldly he asks this. My dad doesn’t hold back, and although he doesn’t know Lou personally, I can tell he’s already protective of her.
“She knows enough.”
“By whose standard?” he pushes.
“Mine,” I say. “It’s enough.”
“All right, then. Where are you now?”
I give him a quick rundown of where we are and where we’ve been, but I can hear how busy he is in the background. So I change topics before he runs out of time.
“How’s Sean?”
“Good,” Dad says, a hitch in his voice.
“What?”
He pauses, and anticipation swells in me.
“He’s gettin’ some good buzz. Word is, a team is scouting him.”
Adrenaline courses through me, and I look up as if my dad is right in front of my face. But he’s not. No one is. It’s just me, the loblolly pines, and the peals of laughter from the Williams women.
“A team? An NHL team?”
“That’s right.”
I close my eyes and say a silent prayer.
“I wish I could be there.”
“You’re where you need to be,” he says, and I have to clear my throat. Does he really believe that? “You know, your mom called after Sean’s last game. Said she’d been watching all season. Asked after you boys.”
I internalize a groan. She calls a couple times a year, always with some story about how this might be the tour that makes things for her. I blocked her after my accident, so I get my updates from Dad. And even Sean.
I wish they’d both block her, too. No one needs this.
“Let me guess. She said she’s coming back and then vanished again?”
“No,” Dad says, and I hear clinking in the background. “No promises. No drama. She’s been quieter the last few times we spoke. Just thought you should know.”
“Don’t let her back in, Dad. We’re better off without her.”
“Don’t you worry about me. Take care of yourself, Paddy. I miss you.”
I sniff. “You too, Dad.”
We end the call, and wave upon wave of feelings hit me, too strong to fight off. Hope for Sean crashes into me like the tide while frustration over my mom’s call threatens to pull me under at the same time.
But hope is the more dangerous emotion.
If I hope and nothing happens, my guilt will be ten times—a hundred times—worse than the excruciating pain of possibility.
What if Sean gets drafted?
