Grandpa flinched and glared at him. “Stop. That’s not okay language, son. You’d need to be respectful to all the staff and customers, and here in my home I don’t allow slurs. Do you understand?”
Uncle Wayne made a lip-zipping gesture. “I’m real good at playing it polite and cool. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d have been busted a lot sooner if everyone didn’t love me.”
I wasn’t sure that was reassuring, and by his expression neither was Grandpa, but he let it go.
At least, Koda could probably look after themself, and Lily took no shit from anyone, but having Uncle Wayne around would mess with the harmony of the store, no matter how useful extra hands might be. Hopefully, Grandpa was figuring that out.
In a clear attempt to change the subject, Grandpa turned to me. “No practice or game today, huh? Must be nice to have some time off.”
“I’m enjoying it.” I was going to say especially avoiding doing that drive, but at the last moment, I figured that might make Grandpa feel guilty I was living at home to take care of him. If he’d figured out that’s what I was doing. “Early practice tomorrow, though.”
“Tough game last night,” Uncle Wayne commented. “You guys should’ve had that one. Edmonton was in a slump. I suppose when a goalie has an off night, the team is fucked.”
As the slumping goalie, I could’ve argued that the offense going zero for five on power plays and the defense collapsing in front of me had something to do with it. But I had fucked up. I’d own that. “Yeah, sure, I’m the entire team, right here.”Okay, maybe not completely own it.
“Most important position on the team.” Uncle Wayne faked a grab as if at a flying puck, then looked behind him. “Oops, missed. A team’s only as good as their goalies.”
“It helps if they actually score a goal or two,” I pointed out. “I’d have needed a shutout to win last night.” Saying that out loud actually made me feel better, although letting in that soft shot might’ve fucked with our momentum.
“But you have four shutouts already. Leading the league. So that’s not impossible, unless you screw up.”
I was a bit creeped out that Uncle Wayne knew my stats, although hockey had been the one thing we could talk about in my teens. “If letting in one goal is screwing up, then every goalie on the planet is a screwup. No one’s playing with a goals-against of less than one.”
He waved me off as if I was being unreasonable. “Not saying that. Just that the goalie’s the player who matters most to the final score.” He gave me a thin smile. “I’ve been checking out your team. You’re carrying the Foxes this season. They’re putting out mediocre offensive numbers, and you’re stopping more shots than they take in a lot of your wins.”
If anyone else had praised me like that, I might’ve felt good. Coming from Uncle Wayne, I just felt uncomfortable. Maybe he was buttering me up to ask for seats. Or like he said before, insider info. He could dream on. “Thanks.” I bounced to my feet. “Going up to put together some stuff to take to Z— the Evanses’ house. Glad I got to hang out with you, Grandpa. I can work that closing shift with Koda today. Do you want me to head on over now or start at three?”
Grandpa smiled at me, genuine and warm. “Thanks, Callum. Starting now would be great, if you’re up for it, since I took the day off. Have you had lunch?”
“Zeke shared his donuts,” I said, a half lie, since that was for breakfast. But we could call it brunch.
Uncle Wayne snorted. “At least the cop follows the stereotypes. Is he thick around the middle too?”
“He’s got more muscles than you do,” I told him. “Dude works out.”
Grandpa turned to me, changing the subject. “Tell me when you’re heading to Nina’s and I’ll text Lily. Then she can work a short day if she wants to, or stay till three if she needs the money. I’ll let her know.”
“Right, will do.”
I jogged up the stairs, hearing Uncle Wayne say behind me, “Cal’s gotten tall, taller than me. Kid must’ve had a growth spurt since I saw him last. Looks like you raised him healthy, for sure.”
“It’s been too many years since you were home…”
I didn’t stick around and listen to Uncle Wayne buttering up Grandpa, or Grandpa hoping he’d become a better man. In my room, I threw stuff in a duffel and collected my two game-day suits in their garment bags. One thing about all those road trips— packing was fast and easy. I didn’t usually do it in a mood that had me crumpling underwear in a ball and yanking shirts off hangers, but the system still worked.
Uncle Wayne wasn’t around when I came back down. Grandpa still sat at the kitchen table staring out the window, half a cup of coffee in front of him. He startled when I set my bags down and went to him. “Hey. Callum. I never meant for Wayne to chase you out of here.”
“It’s all good,” I lied. “I offered to help Zeke before Uncle Wayne ever showed up. And I’ll be back.”Sometime.A touch to the ceramic mug showed me Grandpa’s coffee was pretty cold. “Here, let me microwave that for you before I go.”
He touched my wrist to stop me. “Nah. Third cup. I don’t need more caffeine.” The way he levered himself out of the chair, one hand pressed to the tabletop, marked how stiff he was getting. Seemed like he was ageing at warp speed, but that was probably me not paying attention. “Here, boy.” He guidedme into a hug. I went willingly, remembering how he’d been my refuge through so many years, even when I was fighting to resist.
“Love you, Grandpa,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Me not getting along with Uncle Wayne has nothing to do with you.”
“I wish that was true.” He squeezed me, then stepped back. “But I feel like I have to give him one more chance. I told him he needs to get help with his addiction and look for a job and help around the house. I told him he has to treat you right, too. I know he wasn’t always kind, when you were a teenager. I told him if I hear him taking shots at you, even as a joke, he’s gone.” He frowned at me. “But you need to do the same. That whole time in the kitchen, that was you taking shots at him. The licence, the bus, the cop— you were goading him.”
I was testing him.I gritted my teeth against the ache of having Grandpa take his side against mine. But all I said was, “I’ll try.”
“That’s my boy.”
