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“I’m okay. I promise.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank you for this, though. It helps a lot.”
“Anything for you, big brother.” She releases my hand and pushes to a stand. “I need to pee. And go to bed. And so do you because Dad will get you up stupid early. He was giddier than a toddler jacked up on sugar about the fact that he would have someone to play hockey with.”
The abrupt shift jars me, but when she holds out her arms, I stand and accept another hug.
“I love you. Take it easy on yourself.” She pats me on the back and disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with her words and my thoughts.
And I feel . . . good. Lighter. For the first time ever, I have a tiny seed of hope that maybe I’ll be able to let go of the past and start living in the present.
* * *
“Rise and shine!Get your ass out of bed. We’ve got ice time in an hour!”
“Seriously? You need to knock before you bust into my room in the morning, Dad!”
“I did knock. And I texted you and called four times. You have the rest of the holidays to sleep in. We rented the arena for three hours, we’re playing dads versus kids before your mom and I take off for a couple of days. I have those fritters you’re so fond of waiting downstairs.”
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s seven in the morning, which is considered sleeping in during the regular hockey season. We often have practice at five thirty. “You drove to Pearl Lake to get fritters?”
“No, they have a new location here. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed. Meet me in the kitchen.” He closes the door behind him.
I roll over and pick up my phone. I have a bunch of messages. A group text that includes BJ, the Butterson twins, Kody, and Quinn, and several messages from my dad telling me to get my ass out of bed. There’s nothing from Clover. I should expect this, but I don’t love it.
I take care of my morning wood, get dressed, and head downstairs to the kitchen. The smell of fresh fritters makes my mouth water. Two travel coffee mugs sit on the counter, along with a box of fritters, and next to that is River, who clearly hasn’t bothered to brush his hair and is about as awake as I am.
He, however, is shoveling fritters into his face and gripping his coffee cup.
“Morning, sunshine.” I try to reach into the box, but he swats the back of my hand with his fork and wraps his arm protectively around the fritters.
“These are mine.” He points to a second box. “Those are for you.”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“It’s the fucking holidays. I’m supposed to be sleeping.” He stabs another fritter and takes a huge bite out of it, groaning. “These are so good.” His phone buzzes on the table, and he glances at the screen before quickly flipping it over.
Dad appears in the kitchen a few seconds later. “We’re all set. Grab your coffees and your breakfast and let’s roll.”
“I don’t know why I have to come. I play football, not hockey,” River grumbles, but he pushes back his chair, grabs his box of fritters, and heads for the door. I do the same, minus the grumbling.
We pile into Dad’s truck, River claiming the back seat. His phone is in his hand almost immediately. Mine keeps buzzing in my pocket, but the only person I want to talk to is Clover. And she needs space, so I get to talk to my dad, instead.
“What time did you get in last night, son?”
“It was late. I had a few things to take care of after my shift at the gym.”
He nods a few times and taps the steering wheel. “Would one of those things you had to take care of be a girlfriend?”
“No, Dad. No girlfriend. I told you, I’m taking a break from the dating scene. Besides, next semester is going to be heavy. I have bio-chem, which isn’t my favorite subject.”
“Kody could probably help you with that.”
Talking about school makes me think about Clover, which makes me wonder what’s waiting for me after the holidays, so I change the subject. “Maybe. When is Gram-pot coming down?”
“Him and Grandma Daisy are supposed to be here the day after your mom and I get back. And Grandpa Sid and Gigi should arrive on Thursday.”
“Cool, cool.” I love it when my grandparents come to visit. Gigi tells us all kinds of cringeworthy stories about my mom, and Gram-pot is a weed scientist and always has the best edibles. During the season, I don’t partake, but he sneaks me a couple of low-dose brownies when he visits.
When we arrive at the arena, the entire Butterson clan, minus the twins, is already there, as well as Kody, his younger brother, Dakota, BJ and Quinn, and their dads. Darren Westinghouse, my dad’s long-time best friend and former teammate, is also there, plus Ryan Kingston and Bishop Winslow, two of the guys my dad used to coach back in the day. They’re tight with Kody’s parents and ended up buying property on Pearl Lake too. They’re retired from the league now, and my dad invited them to be part of the not-for-profit hockey training program he and my uncle Miller set up several years back.
