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Max slides off her chair and stands in front of the window that overlooks the rink. She presses her hand to the glass and watches as the puck is dropped. Her arms fly above her head when we win possession.
Lila leans into me and clamps her fingers around my wrist. “I’m sorry about that,” she whispers. “The divorce hasn’t been easy for her. I stayed longer than I should for Max. But I just…”
“One day, she’ll understand, and she’ll be happy you didn’t stay just for her.”
“That’s what I told myself when I filed the divorce papers.”
“You’re a good mom, Doc. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“I try,” she admits. “It’s hard. I didn’t have a normal childhood.”
“Me neither.”
“I wanted her to have what I didn’t have, but…” She sits up straight and removes her fingers from my wrist, placing her hand on her thigh. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
We share a long, awkward moment of silence until the goal horn sounds. The Capitals have scored the first goal of the game. Max comes over to high-five each of us and then jogs across the front of the box, taking a victory lap. This kid cracks me up. I forgot how much I loved when Kat and the twins were younger.
Max reminds me of the part of my life I sometimes miss. Maybe Lila was right. I could see myself settling down and having my own kids—with the right woman.
After the game ends, I grab the duffle bag filled with merchandise and lead Lila and Max down to the locker room. I spot Marcel first. His dark hair is sticking up in dozens of directions, still wet from his shower.
Max points her finger up at him. “I know you.”
Marcel laughs. “Hey, Max.”
She squeals. “You know my name?”
Marcel and I hunch down to meet her height.
“Max, this is my friend Marcel.”
“I know who he is. I watch him on TV, too.”
“Will you sign my jersey?” Max asks with zero fear.
Most kids are freaked out when they meet us, but not Max. She’s like a twenty-five-year-old in a ten-year-old body. I like that she asks for what she wants. And she says whatever comes to mind. I can tell it sometimes embarrasses Lila, but it’s nothing for her to worry over.
Marcel signs the back of her jersey. I hand over the duffle filled with hats, pucks, and other memorabilia for him to sign. Benji and Lucas stumble out of the locker room a few minutes later. Max tells them random facts about hockey. They autograph everything I put in front of them, asking Max questions about school.
“I’m going to be a hockey player, too,” Max says, going on about her new youth hockey team.
“My sister played hockey in college,” I tell her.
“Do you think I could play when I’m in college?”
I cup her shoulder. “Sure.”
“Will you teach me?”
I glance up at Lila. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
Max’s face is glowing. “Mommy, can Duke teach me hockey?”
Lila looks away from Lucas, who she seems to know better than I had thought. “What, baby?”
“Duke said he’ll teach me how to play hockey. I want to be better than all of the girls on my new team.”
Everyone laughs. It’s hard not to when you’re around Max.
