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“Yeah. Just . . . exams and games are a lot to juggle. I don’t want to shit the bed.”
“Your grades are okay, though?”
“Yeah. They’re up.”
“Okay. That’s good. One more semester and you’ve got a degree under your belt, and I have a feeling you’ll get called up. Just keep your eye on the goal. You’re almost there.”
“What if Nashville decides they don’t want me?” I give voice to the fears that plague me after games like this.
“There’s another team that wants you if Nashville doesn’t.” He says this with such conviction, as if it’s a given.
“But what if there isn’t?”
“There will be. Trust me. The scouts are talking. That’s all I can tell you, though.” He pulls into the drive-thru of an independently owned coffee shop and rolls down the window. He gets a black coffee, and I get one of their latte things that are full of sugar and caffeine.
I wait until he pulls ahead before I say, “What if I don’t want to get called up?”
A crease forms between his eyes. “You’ve been working your entire life for this, Maverick. Why would you want to walk away now? What’s going on? I’m worried about you, son. This isn’t like you.”
I lift my hat and run my hand through my hair before replacing it, adjusting the brim. “I know. I’m being stupid. Tonight, I played like a rookie, and it put me in a shit headspace. I’ll be fine next game.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “You will. It’s normal to have doubts after a rough game. We all have them. I had lots of bad games. And I got lots of penalties when I was a rookie and playing with my emotions and not my skill set. I don’t ever expect you to be perfect. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Dad, I know. Thanks for the pep talk.” But part of me wonders if I’m so focused on hockey because it’s the one thing he and I have in common, and I don’t want to give that up.
We pull around to the window, and my dad pays for the coffees before the college-aged girl passes them over. Once we’re back on the road, my dad says, “You know I’m always here if you need to talk.”
“Yeah, I know. I appreciate it.” But telling my dad what’s going on in my head isn’t something I can do.
“How’s everything else? You dating anyone new?”
I shake my head and take a sip of my overly sweet coffee. “Nah. Gonna focus on exams and getting through to the holidays. Doesn’t make sense to get involved with someone when I don’t have the time for it.”
“Okay. But, uh, in case something changes, you all stocked up on condoms and lube? You know I can always call in a favor and get you what you need if you’re running low.”
“I’m good, Dad. Still going through the liter of lube Mom put in my stocking last year.” It was theonlything in my stocking. She wrapped it in festive paper with penises wearing little Santa hats and beards. I have no idea where the hell she found the paper, but I made origami cranes out of it and put one on each plate at the table when she had her friends over for a New Year’s dinner party.
“Good. Good.” He taps the steering wheel. “Remember, foreplay isn’t a suggestion, it’s a necessity if you’re a Waters man.”
“I’m super aware of that, Dad, but thanks for the reminder.”
Thankfully, my dad stops both the sex lectures and the hockey talk. He makes a right down Hackett Street, and my heart does this weird thing in my chest, as if it stops beating for a second before catching up again. It’s just after nine, and Clover’s front porch light is off. As we pass, I notice a pair of figures in the kitchen.
And that black BMW is parked in front of the house. Still. Again. I grab the door handle.
“Mav?”
“Huh?” I tune back in, my throat tight. The automatic locks are on; otherwise, I’d already be out of the vehicle.
“You’re coming home for Christmas and staying for a bit between games?” Dad asks. “You’ve got almost two weeks off, according to the schedule. Everyone’s going to be up at the lake. Your aunts and uncles, the Bowmans and Westinghouses too.”
“Yeah, I might have some shifts at the gym, though.”
“Is that still working out for you? Do you think you’re taking on too much with your final semester coming?” He pulls up in front of the house.
“Nah, it’s only a couple shifts a week. I can handle it.”
“Okay. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze.
