“Mhm.”
“You cannot unwind this without it becoming a thing. In two NHL families.”
“Correct.”
“Oh my god,” Blue says again, much quieter this time.
I lean back and clasp my hands behind my head, because someone in this room has to project stability. “Okay. Let’s all breathe. Let’s not spiral. Is it ideal? No. Is it the worst situation I’ve ever personally walked into? Gentlemen, I once told a customs agent I had nothing to declare while wearing two wristwatches and a third in my sock. I am built for this.”
Percy, who has not moved this entire time, finally speaks. “So what’s the play this weekend?”
I look at him.
Benson snaps his fingers. “Shit. Thanksgiving. That’s three days out.” He points at me. “My parents are flying in.”
I lean forward and put on my gentlest voice. “About that, cap.”
Benson closes his eyes. “You are backing out of my family’s Thanksgiving three days before Thanksgiving?”
“I’m sorry, man. I genuinely am. But I cannot stand up Coach Linwood. He would have my entire future cupped in one hand.”
“Christ,” Benson mutters.
Blue covers his eyes and slowly shakes his head at the table.
“It’s Coach Linwood,” I say, like that explains the weather, the tides, all of it. “And my dad may have mentioned he’s booking a flight to be there.”
The entire table groans.
“This,” Rowan announces to the room, “is a mess.”
“What does Aspen have to say about all this?” Blue asks.
“She’s very sorry.”
“She should be sorry, Stan, because your parents are going to lose their minds when they eventually find out it was fake.”
I had not, until this exact second, pictured myself standing in front of my mother and father explaining any of this, and my stomach takes the stairs down without me.
“You’re right.” I put both elbows on the table, steeple my fingers, and recover. “Good thing I’m already a card-carrying member of the Mile High Club. No temptation on that flight. Peaked years ago. Untouchable.”
“You’re in a lot of trouble,” Rowan says.
We all pause, thinking about it.
Finally, I admit, “I’m aware.”
The kitchen settles. Benson’s staring at the table like he’s working out long division in his head. Percy is still watching me,which is more unsettling than anything Benson’s said. Blue is scratching the back of his neck.
“Okay,” Benson says. “Worst case scenario. Go.”
Blue says, “Coach finds out it’s fake. What happens to you?”
I make a small explosion with my hands and the accompanying sound effect. “I’m done for. He never forgets, he never forgives, and he talks to everybody.”
“So you start your career with a target on your back,” Percy says.
“Correct.”
