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Before I can reply, Lauren strolls into the office. There’s no shock on her face, which I take to mean she didn’t overhear any of our conversation. “It can’t take this long to look at a map. Come on, Mom says the food is almost ready.”
I don’t miss a beat. “I’m so sorry, Lauren, but I have to go. My mom just texted—she made it home after all and wants me to meet her.”
Lauren wrinkles her nose. “You’re going to fly back to LA? On Thanksgiving?”
“She already bought my ticket,” I lie. “I’m sorry. I really appreciate you inviting me. It’s just…I haven’t seen her in months.” That, at least, is true. Not since New York. At least my dad has visited me at Stanford a couple of times.
She makes a face. “It’s fine. I’m glad, just disappointed.”
I step forward and give her a hug. “I’ll see you back on campus in just a few days.” Lauren nods, and I glance back at Andrew. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, Auden.”
I say goodbye to Brian and Jessica, order an Uber, and am on my way to the airport twenty minutes later.
Once I’m in the car, I tap Elliot’s name.
Elliot
“Bullshit!” Josh shouts. “Any idiot could see that was a penalty.”
“Guess you’re an idiot then,” Luke responds. “They’re not going to call it.”
“Stop screaming at the television,” Oliver grumbles. “They can’t hear either of you.”
Luke flew back from McGill this morning to see Oliver, Josh, and me, who all ended up at American universities. We’re home for “Thanksgiving”, which was celebrated here weeks ago. So, we’re lounging around drinking beer and watching hockey while our new teammates consume turkey.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to seeDennyflashing across the screen. I swallow a whole bunch of nerves. We’ve barely spoken since the conversation in her room at Stanford. I said what I needed to, and I have no idea where it leaves us, where it left us. I think the puck is in her zone of the ice, but I also think her hesitation stems from concerns about things I’ve said and done in the past, and it’s valid. We need to have a longer conversation without the threat of getting benched for a game looming over my head—which happened anyway—and it needs to be in person. Since one of our issues is that we don’t live or go to school close to one another, I have no idea when, or if, that’ll happen.
I rise from the couch, ignoring the look from Josh that tells me he saw who was calling me. I answer the phone as I walk out of the living room and into the Hawleys’ empty kitchen. It’s just the four of us tonight, no wild party. Maybe we’re growing up—slightly.
“Hey.”
Instead of heying me right back, Auden says, “I met your dad today.”
What?“What?”
“I went home with a friend from school for Thanksgiving. She said her dad played hockey, said his name, and then there he was. He—you look a lot alike. I knew it was him right away.”
Thoughts swirl and bounce in my head. “Where?”
“What?”
“Where does he live?”
“Oh. It’s a small town in California. Northwick. It’s just a couple of hours away from Stanford.”
“Wow.”
She exhales. “Yeah. I brought up Canmore on purpose. He realized that meant I know who he is—know you. He asked about you, said he’s been following your career. He also said they’re not your half-siblings, said they’re his wife’s and her ex’s. I…I think I believe him. They’re older than us, but I don’t know. It was all a lot, you know? Sorry. I’m babbling. I was nervous to tell you and nervous because of how we left things and I just… You’re not saying anything.”
I’m trying to figure out how I feel. And I feel…nothing. My father has turned into a story in my head, not an actual person. I’ve never considered looking him up. Never considered going to see him. Never considered letting him leave the past and enter my present or future. Yeah, I’d like him to know I’m a damn good hockey player, but that’sallI want him to know about me. I want him to have regrets about how he handled things back then, not offer forgiveness or closure. I don’t have any forgiveness to offer him, and I have closure—from when he closed the door after walking out of my life.
I have plenty of support. From my mom and Jeff. From my teammates. From my coaches. From my friends. From Auden.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” she echoes the word incredulously.
