“I thought I’d drive myself since I need my car…”
I shake my head before she can finish. “Nope. I told you I was driving. I can pick you up after class and bring you back to the house. It’s not a problem.”
She frowns but doesn’t argue. I chalk it up to my bubbly personality.
“Are you always this happy in the mornings?”
“Sure am. Aren’t you?”
“No. I hate early mornings.”
I make a point to look at my watch. “It’s 10:38. It’s not early.”
“I woke up fifteen minutes ago. It’s early for me.”
“I’ve been up since four.”
She scowls. “Whywould you do that to yourself?”
“Hockey practice.”
“Sucks for you.”
I laugh. “Yeah, but I love it so I don’t mind the early hours.”
“I guess.” She gets up and pours her coffee out before putting the cup in the dishwasher. “Where are we going to eat?”
“Little place right off campus. A hole in the wall basically, but they have the best breakfast in the city. At least I think so.”
“It’s not just a grease machine? There’s food you can actually eat?”
“Yup. Most of us hockey players eat there. The school keeps them running on athletes. Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of greasy, sugary, fatty food too, but they keep us in mind as well.”
“I’m guessing more than just athletes eat there from the school then?”
“Yeah.” I open the car door for her and she raises a brow. “My mama taught me right. You open doors for ladies.”
“She did good then. Nana always said if a man doesn’t open a door for someone, then he wasn’t raised right. I remember her telling our next door neighbor if he couldn’t open his man’s door, then he needed to go learn some manners. He was terrified to tell Nana he was gay since she was so religious, but she accepted him with open arms when his own family disowned him.”
“She sounds like an amazing person.”
Daisy gives me the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. “She was and everyone loved her. Every friend I had called her Nana Caldwell. I miss her all the time and I hope I can do her proud.”
“All things considered, I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”
“You can’t know that since you barely know me.”
“I know enough to make some damn decent assumptions.”
“You know what they say about people who assume…”
“Yeah, yeah, but I stand on what I said. You’re a good person who does her best with the hand she’s been dealt. My mom is like that. She raised me by herself after my dad walked out. Sometimes I saw her maybe ten minutes a day because she was going from job to job to keep a roof over our heads, food on thetable, and my hockey camps paid for. She had a shit hand dealt to her and she made it work.”
We’re both quiet for a while after that. I glance over at her and she’s staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. I wonder what she’s thinking about.
It’s not until I’m pulling into parking lot of my favorite breakfast place that she interrupts the silence. “It’s hard to keep yourself afloat when things are bad, let alone someone else. Your mom sounds like an amazing person herself. I’m glad I got to meet her.”
“She wants you at the house for supper.”
