Page 48 of The Parent Playbook
Scotty laughs, stepping closer, and the next thing I know, we’re being herded together.
Andy and Lily are mischievous puppet masters, arranging us so Scotty and I are almost cheek to cheek, our heads touching. The warmth from his skin is probably a figment of my overactive, slightly panicky imagination.
“You take it, Scotty. Say cheese!” Andy commands, and I’m about to protest, but Scotty is already snapping the photo.
“All right now,” Scotty passes the phone back to Andy. “I’ve got to get going?—”
“Wait!” Andy shouts. “Now the adults only—say winners on ice!” and Lily shoves us a little closer together.
“Come on, you two. Pretend you like each other,” she teases, and it’s ridiculous, because I don’t need to pretend at all.
I don’t know if Scotty feels the same, but we both burst out laughing, arms around each other’s sides, which is right when Andy snaps the picture.
“I’m sorry about how we ended things the other day,” I say as we separate our cheeks from each other.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and the shirt, tie, ruggedly mussed hair is all about to do me in. “Maybe we can heart-to-heart about it soon. I’d love to hear your advice.”
“Oh, I’m full of great advice that I never follow myself. Sounds like a date.”
I just said date. What was I thinking? Naw, it’s okay, everyone says that … Right?
Scotty seems unfazed by my use of “date” and starts to back away. “Wish us luck out there.”
“Luck?” I fire back, aiming for light, breezy, utterly unaffected as I lean forward on the half-wall. “Trust me, you don’t need it. If anyone needs a bit of that tonight, it’s me watching you try to coach in that tie.”
His fingers wrap around mine and I squeeze his hand like I’ve done it a thousand times before.
I don’t need luck. What I need is more time with this man.
CHAPTER 20
SCOTTY
She squeezed my hand. It was the smallest of things, but there’s no doubt that it happened. Sure, I wanted to wrap my arms around her and ask for a kiss for good luck, but somehow, that little squeeze, so normal and natural, was worth more.
Back in Colorado, I focused on being a dad, on making sure Lily had stability. But here, in Maple Falls, it feels like those old dreams of a bigger family could still have legs. Angel, Andy, Lily and I … the thought’s snuck up on me like an underdog play in overtime. But I want it so bad I can taste it.
Is this really me talking?
I step into the locker room and the noise of the guys gearing up pulls me back to reality. We’ve got games to win, and if I’m serious about doing something different with my life, leaving Colorado for good and kicking my career back in gear, then I’d better keep my eye on the game.
But even with the hubbub around me—the equipment being passed, the stretching, and last-minute comments—part of my mind is still on Angel. She’s got this fire to her. I’ve spent so much of my life planning plays, anticipating the next move on the ice, but I never planned for this.
For a feeling that’s less like fireworks and more like coming home.
How did I get here? When did my priorities shift so thatnotexploring what’s happening with Angel feels like the biggest loss I could face?
As the guys lace up their skates, it’s the bigger picture on my mind. It’s about what it means to really go for something that isn’t measured in scores or wins, but in shared breakfasts, in little laughs, in moments that stitch a family together.
Sharing life with someone like Angel—it’s a daunting idea, but for the first time in a long while, excitement edges out the fear.
The rink’s alive tonight, packed to the rafters with fans buzzing like this is a season opener to remember. “Ice, Ice Baby” blares over the speakers, the bass thumping in sync with my chest as I scan the ice, watching our guys in their sharp blue and white jerseys. The crowd’s chanting ramps up, “Twenty-nine! Twenty-nine!” for Dan Roberts, Maple Falls’ own boy made good. He’s soaking it in, that hometown love.
But as the puck drops and the game starts in earnest, my smile fades into concentration. I’ve got my clipboard in hand, but despite my best efforts to focus, a part of me is with Angel and the kids in the stands. This win would mean so much for Happy Horizons. She’s counting on this, on us, to pull through, to help bring that funding home.
The Canadian Lumberjacks are laying it all on the line. I’ve got to hand it to them—they are giving us their best game.
And it shows.
