Page 25 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“Yeah, overall. One of the recessed lights in the living room burned out, and even with the ladder, I’m not tall enough to change it.”

“Don’t do that. I’ll come over this weekend and change it for you. I’ll rake the lawn and change out the air filter in the HVAC too while I’m there.”

Her smile turns warm. “Best son ever.”

She checks the time on her watch. “I should get going. I have a client meeting in Breckenridge tomorrow, and I have to wake up early to prepare.”

I hug her. “Thanks again for coming, Mom.”

“You know I love watching my superstar son play hockey.”

She tells everyone bye and heads for the nearby parking lot.

“Leo. A word.”

The sound of my dad’s gruff voice makes me tense. I turn around to him standing a few feet away. He’s frowning at me.

I step off to the side and brace myself for whatever insult he’s about to drop on me.

“Why didn’t you take that shot in the third period?”

I exhale sharply, instantly annoyed.

“You had the perfect opportunity, and you just gave it away.”

“Scoring isn’t my strong suit.”

“It can be if you quit taking the easy way out and try harder.”

I hold back from scoffing. “You think the way I play is easy?”

“Yeah. I do. Because you always play like that. You need to challenge yourself. Up your skill set. You’re about to go pro. You think the way you played tonight is going to hold up when you’re pitted against the best players on the planet?”

He pins me with a hard stare. I shake my head and glance off to the side.

“You think disrupting shooting lanes and passing to your teammate is enough to impress anyone in the pros?”

Frustration rockets through me.

“You’re not big enough to be an enforcer. You can’t just interrupt play and expect to blow everyone away. That’s an amateur mindset.”

When I don’t say anything, he purses his lips like he’s disappointed.

I should be used to it. He’s been disappointed in me my whole life.

But it cuts deep every single time.

I glare at him. “Quit coming to my games just to shit on me. I’m sick of it.” I’m careful to keep my voice down. We’re around my teammates and their families, and I don’t want to cause a scene.

But the anger in my tone is crystal clear.

My dad aims his hard stare at me for a long moment before turning away and walking off without a word.

When I look over, my teammates are still visiting with their girlfriends and parents. After a couple of minutes, their parents walk off.

Nick turns to us. “You guys ready to get some food?”

I nod. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”