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Or maybe it’s a desire to have her wear my jersey.
I push it away and plop down opposite them in the booth.
“You were amazing tonight,” Danica says. There’s not a lot of gush to her words the way there was with Travis, but her praise is all in her eyes. I can see it clear as day that she’s proud of the way I played, and I have to force myself not to puff out my chest.
“It was a team effort. We’re on a hot streak, for sure.”
I’m not being intentionally humble. I’ve never believed one man makes a difference in this sport. Sure… we’ve got some superstar players like Coen, Stone and Drake who will be at the top of the stats at the end of the season, but they’re only as great as the team around them who provide defense and scoring opportunities. We’re running like a well-oiled machine.
Danica taps her foot against the side of my leg and the smile she levels at me tells me I’m a superstar to her. I have to drag my eyes away and force my focus on Travis. “What did you think of that penalty Casperson took in the third period?”
Travis lights up, eager to share his knowledge and analysis. He gives me an impressively succinct argument as to why it was a stupid penalty—and it was—along with a better play that could have been made to stop the breakaway. The kid has hockey in his DNA, but he’s smart as hell. Not many children who play can think at that level. Those who can are destined to do well because once you marry the savvy with the physical prowess, you have an elite player.
The waitress comes and takes our drink orders. Danica joins me in a celebratory beer and then we order burgers. Travis is the center of attention in our little threesome. He’s incredibly extroverted and likes eyes to be on him. He’s funny, gregarious and a pleasure to be around.
I use an opportunity when Travis has his mouth full of food to ask his mom, “What do you have going on this week?”
Nicely innocuous question, hoping to get a feel if we might be able to sneak in some time together. We have another home game tomorrow, a day off and then we’re gone for the rest of the week. Tillie and Coen’s housewarming party is on Saturday when we return.
“I have meetings Tuesday,” she says, dipping a fry into ketchup. “Potential sponsors I met at the gala. But I’m probably going to work from home the rest of the week.”
Harmless answer to Travis if he’s listening but coupled with the expression on her face, it tells me that on Monday I might be able to snag some time for lunch at her house. I manage to slip her a wink unnoticed and she dips her head with a knowing smile.
When we’re nicely stuffed, the waitress brings a dessert menu. Travis isn’t a milkshake fan so he opted for a brownie sundae. Danica and I both passed, although I ordered a second beer.
Danica nudges Travis. “I need to use the restroom.” Travis slides out of the booth and Danica scoots out, taking her purse with her. “Be right back.”
I’ve moved farther into the booth so I can turn at an angle and rest my back against the wall, my arm on the table. Travis folds his arms and leans forward a little. Because he’s only nine, he looks diminutive in that position, but the expression on his face is hard and unyielding.
It gives me a moment of pause, but it’s his words that almost send me into a panic. “Do you like my mom or something?”
My eyebrows fly up so fast, I’m surprised they don’t shoot off my face. I sit straight up and turn toward him. “Excuse me?”
“Do you like my mom?”
Every instinct based on denial kicks in. “Yeah… sure. We’re friends, so of course I like her.”
Travis rolls his eyes and if I wasn’t so nerve-wracked, I might even laugh. “I’m nine years old, not stupid. I see the way you two look at each other.”
Deflection.
“What do you mean?” I ask tentatively, picking up my beer to take a sip.
I get another eye roll. “You look at her like you might want to kiss her?” I choke on the ale, eyes watering. “And she looks like she wants to kiss you. I remember what that looked like when my dad was alive.”
Oh shit. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
“Um… well… I think…” My mind is blank and while I want to be truthful with him, I don’t want to be insensitive. I’d also very much like his mother in on this conversation, but she’s in the damn bathroom right now.
“It’s okay if you like each other,” he says, and I blow out an embarrassingly loud and obvious breath of relief. Travis ignores it. “I mean… you’re cool and my mom thinks you’re cool. And I don’t want her to be lonely, so I want to know if you like her. Like in the kissing way.”
“In the kissing way?” I ask, feeling myself flush hot.
Travis grins at me. “I know things. Kissing means you like her romantically. It’s more than friends.”
I deflect a little longer but more than being afraid to answer the question, I’m now insanely curious about something. “How do you know things? Is there someone at school you like in a kissing way?”
Travis screws up his face. “No way. I’m too young for that.” No, you’re really not. I remember kissing Amelia Slater in third grade on the playground. It was on a dare but I had liked her and wanted to kiss her. “Besides… this is about you, not me.”
