“I’ll make some for you once the season’s over.”
Which implies she’ll still be around come the end of the season in April. My plan is working.
“My mom will probably know what they are since she’s fond of sweet potatoes.”
“She’s from the south, isn’t she?”
“Texas.”
“Then yeah, she’ll know what they are.” She laughs and all my anxiety seems to melt away. Just being around her is calming.
“Your laugh eases my anxiety.”
“Why are you anxious?”
“This talk…the Raptors…everything?” I throw my hands wide to accentuate it. “I’m terrified.”
“You shouldn’t be. I watched you out there. It took me a bit to figure out how to distinguish the players, but it was easy with you. Tonight, especially, since they seemed to be picking on you. Did that guy have a problem with you in particular?”
“No. It’s his job to keep the top scorer away from the nets.”
“But…” She frowns, not liking my answer. “It seemed excessive.”
“It was excessive,” Carson agrees, coming into the kitchen. “I don’t remember these guys being this aggressive last year.”
“They weren’t. But they have a new head coach, so maybe he wants them to play dirtier or something.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not, but some coaches believe in the old ways of hockey which is hurt them until they drop.”
“It looked like he kept trying to hit you hard enough to bounce your helmet off.”
I wish he hadn’t of said that since Daisy’s expression grows alarmed.
“He wanted to give you a concussion?”
“It would keep me out of the game for a while if he did,” I say reluctantly, shooting a warning glare Carson’s way. He has the good grace to look down at his shoes.Bro.
“When do you play them again?” Daisy asks, scooping fries out of the pan and into a waiting bowl where she generously sprinkles them with salt and some kind of seasoning before she shakes them like a professional chef. She seriously needs to reconsider her career choices.
“Not for a couple of weeks. We’ll have time to watch the game and study their other games and form a defense against them. I’m not worried.”
More fries go in the pans and I point downstairs. Thankfully, Carson gets the hint and leaves us alone.
“Do me a favor and start loading the baking sheets with buns.”
“Why?”
She hands me a tub of spreadable butter and a butter knife. “You have to toast the buns so they don’t get soggy.”
Right. I know this. I worked one summer at a restaurant that did exactly this. I’m just tired. And sore. The ice bath didn’t really help. Despite what I just said to Daisy, I am worried about the next time we go up against this team. They meant to hurt every one of us out there on the ice and it was all we could do to keep our heads above water. I plan on talking to Coach about it Monday.
We spend the next few minutes finishing up our individual tasks before I’m told to take the buns outside to where Dylan is grilling. He’s humming to himself as he mans the grill.
“What’s got you so happy?” I grump as I set down the trays of toasted buns.
“I got a call from a recruiter.”
