Page 29 of Center Ice
“I can do the rest,” he tells me once the double-knots are out, and so I stand, glancing up at Jules where she sits a few rows behind us.
Even though my back’s to the walkway, I can tell Drew’s walking toward us by the way Jules’s eyes track the movement, and the way Graham’s head snaps up with a hopeful look on his face.
“Good job today, Graham.” Drew’s voice comes from behind me, and the smooth sound of it washes over me just like it did outside the restaurant the other night. Then he drops his voice so low that only I can hear him say, “Check your texts,” and keeps walking.
“Hey.” I hear my brother as he approaches. He must have been hot on Drew’s heels.
“Hey.” I try to keep my voice completely neutral. I don’t want him to know the effect Drew’s presence has on me, or how much it hurt that he didn’t stop just now—even though I suspect Jameson’s the reason for that.
“Good practice today, kid,” Jameson says as he reaches over and ruffles Graham’s hair.
“Thanks,” my son replies. “Are we playing a game on Saturday morning? Or just practice?”
“It’s a scrimmage,” Jameson says, and I know he’s explained this to the boys, but Graham still doesn’t quite understand the concept. “It’s like a practice game. We’re not going to keep score. It’s just a good way to put into play all the things we’ve gone over in practice.”
“But it’s at the Rebels’ practice rink?” Graham asks.
“Yep.”
“Do you think any of the Rebels will be there?” His face and voice are so hopeful, you’d think the kid had never met a real-life NHL player, even though he’s been surrounded by them his whole life.
“Maybe,” Jameson says. “But if they are, they won’t be in their jerseys or anything.”
“Why not?” Graham asks.
“Because they won’t be playing, you will be. Alright, gotta run. Lauren’s got the twins in bed, and she ordered dinner for us,” he says.
I laugh, because this man who swore up and down that he’d already raised me and Jules and was never getting married or having kids literally can’t wait to get home to his future wife and kids.
As he leaves, I help Graham pack his gear into his bag, double-checking that there’s nothing he’s left behind. His whole bag already smells terrible, and we’re only a few practices into the season.Maybe Drew will have some tips for this?I think to myself as I pull the zipper shut, and then remind myself that I can just ask my brother.
He picks up the bag now that he’s finally—barely—big enough to carry it himself, and I pull out my phone to look at my texts as we walk outside.
Chapter Fourteen
AUDREY
Drew:
Sorry, couldn’t stop and talk with Jameson right there. He just read me the riot act about not going near you. Anyway…I hear cookies are tonight’s plan? Send me your and Graham’s order and I’ll meet you at the location on Boylston Street.
“Did you tell Drew where we were going for cookies?” I ask Graham.
“Yeah, he said that’s his favorite place too.”
Of course they both have the same expensive-ass taste in cookies.
“What kind do you want tonight?” I ask him as we leave the rink and head to the car.
“I think…”—he carefully ponders his options—“tonight feels like an M&M cookie kind of night.”
Audrey:
So sorry to have missed THAT conversation. Graham would like an M&M cookie, and I’d like a salted caramel, please.
I don’t tell Graham that Drew is meeting us there. I try to convince myself it’s because I don’t want him to be disappointed if Drew doesn’t show, but maybe it’s also because I don’t quite want to get my own hopes up and potentially be disappointed myself.
Drew seems like a different person, in a different place in his life now, but his reputation is unchanged. If anything, according to the media, he’s even wilder now than when I knew him in college. And he let me down in the biggest way six years ago, so it’s going to take a bit for me to trust him again.
