"Busy doingwhat, exactly?"
The crowderuptsagain. A near-miss, a scramble in front of the net. I cover the speaker with my hand, trying to muffle the noise, but it's useless.
"Are you—" My mother pauses. The silence on her end stretches out. "Are you at ahockey game, Josie?"
Beside me, Darcy and Rose are frozen, watching me like I'm a bomb about to go off.
"No, I'm—" I start, but the words die in my throat.
Because Declan Morrison is down on the ice, skating past our box, and hewinksup at me.
My grip tightens on the phone. My pulse is a war drum in my ears.
Could I just… tell her?
I glance around the arena. The stands are fuller than they've ever been. The crowd is alive,thrummingwith energy.
Idid this.
I did this, and I've got no one to share it with.
I should be proud. My father would be proud. He'd be dancing right alongside Darcy and Rose, who, by the way, have completely forgotten about my situation and are now leading a chant in the nearby section, their arms waving wildly in the air.
They are absolutelynothelping me muffle the sound of this hockey game.
"Mom, I—"
"Don't lie to me, Josie. You promised me you were done with this sports…business." She sighs so heavy I feel the disappointment through the phone. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore. You move across the country, you won't tell me where you're living, you won't tell me what you'redoing. And now I find out you're still just floating around at a hockey game." Each word lands like a slap. "After everything we've been through as a family."
Ah huh.
There it is. The card she always plays.
As if losing him without warning, without time to say anything that mattered, was somehowmy faultfor loving the same things he loved.
He didn't get a goodbye. He didn't get a warning. None of us did.
Just tell her. Tell her you did this.
Tell her you finally found the place where you belong.
"Mom." My voice cracks. "Mom, listen. I have something to tell you. It's… it's a good thing. It's actually a really good—"
"Josie."
But she cuts me off, the way she always does.
"I don't understand why you can't be more like your sisters.Theysettled down.Theyhave proper lives. And here you are, twenty-six years old, chasing little boys playing a game on a frozen pond."
A tear threatens to fall from my eyes, but as I reach up and swipe at it, a low rumble builds around me.
I look down, and in a blur of blue and gold on the ice, Declan wins a battle along the boards. He shakes off the opposition and snaps it to Beck at the point, Beck fires the final pass, and Finn MacAllister, our Irish import, tips it past the goalie.
The arenadetonates.
"GOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!!!"
Anexplosionof noise slams through the glass, shaking the building as the bass of the goal horn blasts so loud the floor trembles under my sneakers. The bear roar shakes the entire building.
