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“There’s me.” Sullivan pointed out himself in the middle row, trying to stand as straight as possible to be taller, chest puffed out. “There’s Uncle Jesse. There’s Uncle Axl. Uncle Brandon. Uncle Rick. And look, this is Eddie.”
“What?” Finn sounded like he thought that was hilarious. “No, it’s not.”
“It definitely is,” he told him. “She was the second best player on our team. Uncle Jesse was the best, but Eddie was the second best. She could skate super fast.”
“This picture is pure gold,” Sloane said. “Sullivan, you look like you’re constipated.”
Eddie disengaged herself from playful dogs and rose to her feet. “Let me see this thing.” She came up beside Sullivan, right behind Finn. She put her hands on Finn’s shoulders and leaned in close to see.
Her lotion and lip balm scent washed over him like a caress. He concentrated on not getting a hard on, which was no mean feat, in spite of being surrounded by family and friends. He was starting to become obsessed with Eddie’s scent.
“This is actually a great photo,” Eddie said, running her finger across the glass. “I love my cheesy grin. Why am I smiling so hard when everyone else is trying to be tough?”
“Probably because you knew you kicked butt on the ice. The rest of us were overcompensating.”
“Little Dickie is actually smiling too,” she said. “We’re the outcasts and yet we’re grinning away.”
“You weren’t outcasts,” he protested. “You were friends with everyone on the team.”
She gave him a look. “We were. But don’t pretend like we weren’t the two taking all the heat.”
“She’s right,” Sloane said. “And I admit I was one of them. I was a horrible human in high school. I needed life to kick me in the teeth to grow up.”
“We all did,” Sullivan said.
“I want to take a picture of this,” Eddie said, pulling out her phone. “Can I take it out of the frame?”
“Sure.”
Sullivan flipped the frame over so Eddie could remove the backing.
Finn leaned against Eddie, like she was a wall and he needed support.
“Are you coming to my hockey?” he asked, looking up at her.
“What? Do you play hockey, Finn?” she asked, giving him a smile as she pulled the photo back from the glass pane. “That’s fantastic.”
“Yep.” Finn nodded aggressively.
“He started in the spring,” Sullivan told her. “It’s primarily learn to skate, but with an eye toward basic rules. He really loves it.”
“The O’Toole tradition continues.” Eddie flipped the photo over and took a picture of it with her phone. She then reassembled the frame. “When is your game, Finn?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked at his father. “But you should come. I’m really good.”
“Modest too.” Sullivan handed the photo back to Sloane and took Licorice from Finn, who was struggling to hold the squirming puppy. “It’s tomorrow, buddy, but Eddie might have other plans.”
“It’s at Winterhaven?”
He nodded. “There’s open skate after the kids are done.”
“I’d love to come.” She smiled at him and it did things it shouldn't do to his insides.
He lifted the dog and kissed her head in an attempt at displaced affection. He couldn’t cuddle with Eddie, so Licorice was going to get all the kisses. It wasn’t a fair trade off, but it was the best he could do on short notice.
“Hey, Sullivan, give the puppy to Sloane and help me with the meat,” Rick said, coming up behind them.
Normally he would make a smart-ass comeback but he just cleared his throat and resisted the urge. Look at how fucking mature he was. Not even rising to such an obvious invitation to make a comment on Rick’s meat.
