My back is tight from the third period, and I press my knuckles into the muscle along my spine until it releases. I grab my bag from the backseat and head inside.
Dom is at the table with Sarah. She’s seated with her hands folded in her lap, her posture straight, and a polite smile on her face. She always looks like a guest who hasn't been told she can stay when she’s here.
“There he is,” Nolan sings with a smug smile. “The man who let me score on him.”
I huff a laugh. “I didn't let you do anything. You got lucky.”
“Luck is just preparation meeting opportunity,” Nolan says, raising his beer.
Dom snorts, and I cock a brow at Nolan. “Did you read that on a poster?”
Dom grins from the table. “Good game, Logan. You played hard.”
“Thanks,” I say, flashing my youngest brother a smile.
“You were flat-footed on that second goal,” Dad says, pinning me with a look.
At least he’s waited until we’re all settled and dinner is on the table.
I serve myself and dive into the roasted chicken. I’m ravenous. “I know.”
“You cheated to your left. Brennan had the whole back door, and you weren't even in the frame.”
My jaw tightens. “I saw the replay.”And I was there, I almost added, but don’t. I learned a long time ago that if I just sit and agree, the lecture will be over faster.
“If you hold your position another half second, Blake rotates, and that shot doesn't happen. You rushed it.”
“Okay.”
“And your gap control in the third. You were giving them too much room through the neutral zone. That last goal, their defenseman walked right through because nobody was pressuring. That's on you.”
Silence fills the table. I focus on eating.
Nolan clears his throat. “Did I tell you guys what happened last week? Our backup goalie has been growing this mustache all month. Thinks he looks like Tom Selleck. The boys taped a photo of a walrus to his locker, and he didn't speak to anyone for two days.”
Everyone laughs, and the tension is broken.
Dad waits for the laughter to die and turns back to me. “I'm serious about the gap control, Logan. You can't give skilled forwards that much ice. Not at this level.”
“Got it, Dad,” I say, trying to control my irritation. I have no issues with criticism, but it’s starting to get to me. “Can we eat?”
He has the grace to look embarrassed. “I just want what's best for you.”
He backs off, and the rest of dinner is easy. Later, Mom brings out dessert. It’s homemade apple pie, and of course, Nolan will eat half of it. She serves everyone, moving around the table with plates and forks and napkins.
We move to the living room after dessert. Dad turns on the hockey broadcast.
“Hey,” Dom says. “You free tomorrow? Sarah and I are catching a show in the city. Dinner after, maybe.”
“Can't. Sponsor event at MSG.”
Dom raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you do sponsor events voluntarily?”
“Since I wear the A on my jersey.”
“Right. The alternate captain thing.” He shakes his head. “They really picked the most antisocial guy on the team for a public-facing role.”
Cole pulled me aside on the first day of training camp and told me the organization wanted to give me the A. Shocked into silence, I didn't say anything for a long time.
