Mollie flushes. "Yep. Until I got hurt, I was pursuing it as a career. Now I work for the Seattle Havoc." She glances at me briefly. "My brother, Beck, is on Alex's team."
“Oh! Your friend Beck, Lex? This is his sister?”
“Mhm.” My hands tighten on the wheel.
"That's amazing. And you said you handle social media for the team?"
"Mostly TikTok, but yes. It's not as cool as your job sounds. Marketing seems like the wild west."
My mom snorts. "My boss wishes."
We pull up outside L'Alsace, a French place I want Mollie to try. "Everybody ready?"
Mollie gives my arm a squeeze. "Lead the way."
We find my dad and Naomi whispering to each other at a big round table. I tug Mollie close and prepare myself for emotional whiplash.
"Dad."
"Alex." He nods at me, then Mollie. "Mollie, hi." Then his gaze flits to Mom. "Amanda. It's been a while."
Mom's face is stuck in this killer-clown-style smile. "Hi, Mike. And... Naomi, is it?"
"Yes!" my ex-girlfriend, now maybe-stepmother beams at my mom. Clearly whatever kind of fake hype shit my mom is on, Naomi is on it too. "Sit, sit!"
I can't put myself next to Naomi, so I stare at the booth for a minute. My mom takes one for the team and scoots in first. I follow, leaving Mollie with the outside.
Before we can force ourselves to make conversation, the waiter bustles over, offering us menus, helping us choose wine. After that's done, though, we're back in the same place.
"Your preseason is shit," Dad says, by way of easing us into conversation. "Don't know what Cross is thinking, putting you and Kuznetsov on the same line."
I slip my hand under the table and find Mollie's thigh. "I have no idea. Kuznetsov isn't winning any personality awards in the locker room, either."
"Son of a bitch was all but kicked off his last team. Either your coach knows something we don't, or he's a fucking idiot."
The waiter brings wine and I grip my glass, thankful for the distraction. "He hasn't given me badadvice until this season, so I'm assuming that he's got something up his sleeve."
Mollie shifts beside me and I feel her hand cover mine under the table, just briefly, a small steadying pressure. I exhale.
"Kuznetsov's numbers are insane," she says, easy and conversational. "Forty-seven goals last season. That's not a guy you bench because he's difficult. That's a guy you figure out how to use."
My dad looks at her with something that might be surprise. "You follow hockey?"
"I work for the Havoc," she says. "And I grew up watching Beck play, so yes. I've been watching hockey my whole life."
"She makes our TikToks," I add.
"The viral ones?" Naomi leans forward, suddenly interested. "I saw that video of Alex skating toward the camera. I sent it to like ten people."
Mollie smiles at her, politely warm, not quite friendly. "That's the one."
"You're talented," Naomi says.
"Thank you."
My mom watches this exchange with focused attention and a small frown. She picks up her wine and asks my dad, "How long are you in Seattle?"
"Through the weekend." He glances at Naomi. "We're looking at venues."
