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“I believe you.” My house isn’t too far from the cemetery, so we get there quickly. Sydney seems to visibly relax at the sight of Dad’s truck. Ah, so she doesn’t want to be alone with me. I park my car behind his truck and jog around to open the door for her. We walk inside, holding hands like it’s completely normal and as if we do it all the time. I wish.
“Ian? You’re back already?” Dad calls from the kitchen.
“Sydney’s with me,” I say as we walk into the room.
“Oh, hey. How are you?”
Sydney shrugs.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes, please.”
Dad fixes all of us drinks while I grab cookies from the pantry. We sit at the table.
“Do you want to talk about her?” I gently ask Sydney.
She nods, and soon, Dad and I are learning all about her grandmother. At times, she cries. But she also laughs and smiles. It seems to be very therapeutic for her. Her grandmother sounds like a hoot. She seemed to be a stubborn, snippy, and funny woman. Really, she seemed like the best of the old people. When her phone starts ringing midway through, she silences it to ignore any more calls.
Finally, Sydney seems to be finished.
“When do you go home?” Dad asks the very question I’ve been wondering and the answer to which I’m dreading a little.
“Tomorrow, thankfully.”
“Do you need a ride to the airport?” I ask.
Her cheeks burn with embarrassment and I hate that I asked. “No, my dad should be able to take me. Thanks, though.”
“Just let us know,” Dad says, stealing the words from my mouth. “We should probably eat something other than cookies. I’ll start lunch.”
“Come on, Sydney. I’ll give you a tour.”
She’s already seen the living room because we had to walk by it to get to the kitchen. I show her the dining room we rarely use, the formal living room we also never use, and then we head upstairs. She gets a peek into my dad’s simple bedroom before I take her to mine.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you played hockey, were you?”
“Nope.” There’s gear everywhere, plus I have posters and such of my favorite hockey team on every wall, too. “Have you ever skated before? We could go down to the rink after lunch if you want? I could teach you.”
She laughs softly while running her fingers over team pictures. “I have zero athletic ability, so it might not be much fun.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket with a text from Bruce. “A bunch of my friends are headed there soon, if you wanted to meet them. Or we can hang out here with my dad.”
Sydney glances down at her dress and picks off some imaginary lint. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
“Sure? Because I don’t care either way.”
“Yeah, let’s meet your friends.”
I nod. “Let’s see if Dad needs any help.” As we walk down the stairs, I ask, “So, when do I get to see your bedroom?”
The blush that blossoms on her face is the exact reason I asked. She shocks the hell out of me when she gives me a little smile that has a bit of naughtiness in it and says, “Whenever you come down for a visit.” What she says surprises me so much that I almost stop walking. One day, I will see her bedroom.
We have lunch with my dad and then head down to the ice rink. It’s a local place that also houses an arcade and a restaurant. It pretty much stays busy. I didn’t change out of my suit since Sydney would be stuck in her dress. I can move around on skates wearing anything, so I’m not worried about that. Plus, Sydney may want my jacket because it’ll be cold inside and the sleeves of her dress are barely covering her shoulders.
Bruce starts laughing when he sees me. “What the hell are you wearing, Bruiser?”
Ugh. That stupid nickname. As soon as I get out of this town, my nickname will become mine because of my play as a defenseman on the ice and because I like to give bruises—not because I bruise super freaking easy and my current teammates find it hilarious.
