“I have tattoos too,” I say before I can stop myself.
Ren turns, snaps off part of the snack Ellie brought with the side of his mouth that still has teeth, and looks at me over my sunglasses.
“You gonna do a show-and-tell, Yankee?”
I bare my teeth at him.
“Very intimidatin’, cap-ee-tan.”
“I can’t wait to see what you do,” Ellie gushes as she peels out of the parking lot, tires screeching as she skids on an ice patch. “We have a game tonight. You don’t have to play if you’re not up to it, of course, after your ordeal.”
Ren stretches his leg out. “Just a little rusty. Been sitting in jail for two weeks, ain’t been practicing. But I’ll do it for you, darling.”
“Good. We need you.” Ellie blows out a breath.
“I heard we’re up against the Direwolves. Fixing to get slaughtered, you reckon?”
“I have faith.” She must, because she blows through another yellow light.
“Fuck faith. We need a goddamn Christmas miracle.”
10
ELLIE
“The snacks were a hit, at least,” Harlowe says as we head into Costco. It’s decorated for the holidays, and inflatable elves dressed in hockey gear hang from the rafters, slowly rotating.
Even our local Costco can’t support the Rhode Islanders. The elves are dressed in the Direwolves’ black and yellow.
“Costco. My happy place.” I sigh happily.
“There’s something about being able to buy two years’ worth of cheese puffs that really reminds you of your place on this earth.” Harlowe scans the offerings.
“Your mom says she needs more butter.” Granny Murray grabs a cart. “She said not to tell your father that’s what she puts in the mashed potatoes. No offense—I know you love him—but he’s an idiot if he thinks mashed potatoes taste that good because of oat milk.”
“Hockey players aren’t known to be the brightest. Present company excluded.” Harlowe nudges me.
I load several cases of Lunchables into the cart. “No offense taken. I’m not a hockey player.”
“You kidding me? You looked great out there in practice. My ass never looked as good in leggings.” Harlowe adds five gallons of milk to the buggy.
“It’s not hard to look halfway decent when the guys are just phoning it in. I mean, it’s like they’ve already given up.”
“They are facing the Direwolves. It’s not as bad as facing Seattle, but, like, they are going to get slaughtered. You have, like, three and a half decent forwards, one okay D-man, and a felon for a goalie.”
“I really need that ankle bracelet off of him.” I chew on my lip.
“Your equipment manager’s got you.” Granny Murray salutes.
“Legally, Gran. We have to do it legally,” I beg as she heads off to the tool aisle.
Harlowe stacks two boxes of protein bars on the bottom of the cart.
“I think my dad is right. We’re going to lose. Badly,” I fret. “Geez, I mean, the guys weren’t even paying attention when I was reviewing the plays. I don’t think anyone’s read the game notes, and I tried to get Ren to come to the rink for a quick goalie practice, but he just blew me a kiss and said he needed to nap and jerk off. I mean, God knows what he’s been eating in prison, and he hasn’t touched a puck in what, two weeks? I really shouldn’t play him, but it’s him or Braxton.”
“And Braxton’s mom.”
I groan. “It’s like being back at the daycare.”
