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“Iamyour support person.” She pulls out her phone and opens her camera app. “But I like to tease you, too. Smile like you would if you were sleeping with Rory Miller.”
I laugh at the insanity of it, and she snaps a flurry of pictures. “Oh my god. I would never.”
As he skates past, our eyes meet. He grins and mouthsheybefore skating off.
“Oh my god,” a woman says behind us. “Was that at me?”
“No,” her friend answers. “It was to her.”
The back of my neck prickles.
“That’s Jamie Streicher’s fiancée beside her,” the woman whispers, and Pippa grins at me. They have no clue we can hear every word.
“Dad will be thrilled,” Pippa adds, peering over to Jamie at the other end of the ice. Next period, he’ll be in the net in front of us. “He likes Rory.”
I groan. Our dad’s a hockey nut. I didn’t even think about this element of our arrangement. “If Mom and Dad bring it up, tell them it’s not serious.”
“You haven’t had a boyfriend since Connor.” She cuts me a glance. “They’re going to get excited.”
There’s a flurry of activity on the ice in front of us. Rory sinks the puck, and noise erupts in the arena. The fans jump to their feet, cheering as lights flash and the Vancouver players surround Rory. Pippa’s hand comes to my elbow and she widens her eyes, pulling me up to standing.
“Clap,” she hisses. “Act like you’re happy that he scored.”
I start clapping awkwardly and Pippa laughs, which makes me laugh.
“I don’t want Mom and Dad getting attached to him,” I tell her when we sit down. “He has his own parents.”
Pippa’s frown makes me pause.
“What?” I press.
“Rory needs more good people in his life.”
I scoff. “With his ego? He probably grew up eating his after-school snacks off a gold platter.” I find him through the glass, speeding up the length of the ice with the puck. “The guy doesn’t know the word ‘no.’ I’m sure he was spoiled rotten as a kid.”
Her mouth twists. “He doesn’t talk to his mom much, and I don’t think his dad’s like ours. Have you ever watched Rick Miller on TV?”
I don’t watch sports commentary. Rick Miller is a Canadian hockey legend, though. Everyone knows his name.
“Honestly?” She winces. “He’s kind of a dick. He’s Rory’s agent first and his dad second.”
An ache pangs through me.
“When I went home last month,” she continues, “Dad had framed the ticket from my first concert in Vancouver.”
Pippa and I grew up in North Vancouver, and when we moved out of the house, our parents retired and moved to Silver Falls, a tiny ski town in the interior of British Columbia.
My heart squeezes with love. “Ken Hartley is the freaking best.”
She nods, wearing a wistful smile. “Yeah. He is.”
My eyes find Rory on the ice, and my chest feels tight. Pippa and I have the best dad, and maybe I don’t like Rory, but I don’t wish a bad dad on him.
“They mentioned a trip out here next month. Let’s invite Mom to one of your classes.” Pippa wiggles her eyebrows. Outside of physio for the team, I teach yoga, both on Zoom and in-studio. “I think it would be fun.”
My stomach sinks as I watch the game. Hayden bodychecks a guy from the other team against the boards in front of us. “That’s probably not going to happen.”
“What if we eased her into it? We don’t have to start with a hot class.”
