Page 33 of Desperate Pucker
“It’s alright.” She smiles up at me and squeezes my arm.
“How’s Nick playing?”
“Really well. He got an assist right before you got here.”
I watch him take off with the puck. He plays center and is one of the top guys on his team.
He weaves around a defenseman from the opposing team and takes a shot at their goalie, but the goalie catches it in his glove. The crowd lets out a collective disappointed sound.
I glance around the crowded stands. Hockey is huge at Hollis University, so the home games are always crowded.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
She chuckles. “In his usual spot—front row, taking a million photos and videos of your brother.”
I look over to where he’s sitting. He’s holding up his phone, tracking Nick as he flies across the ice. He glances back, smiling when he sees me. I wave.
“You didn’t want to sit in front with him this time?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “It gets rowdy and loud down there sometimes. I like it up here, a few rows back.” She pats my leg. “How are you feeling? Recovering okay?”
Her tone is light, but I can spot the concern in her gold-brown eyes.
“I’m doing well.”
“Physical therapy is good? You’re resting enough, too?”
“Yes, Mom.”
She sighs like she’s relieved, then goes back to watching the game. “You’re probably itching to get back on the ice.”
“Always.”
“How much longer until you can play again?”
“At least a few more weeks. Maybe a month. I should be able to rejoin practices before too long, though.”
Her eyes are bright as she smiles. “That’s great, sweetie.”
“Anna isn’t coming tonight?”
Mom shakes her head. “She has a test tomorrow, so she’s busy studying.”
“She’s a little genius. She doesn’t need to study as much as she does.”
Mom chuckles. “You know your sister. She likes to overprepare.”
“Unlike Nick.” I nod at him scuffling with another player on the ice for control of the puck.
She gently shoves my arm. “Oh, you stop it. All my kids have their own talents. I’m so proud of all of you.”
I let a small smile break free. She’s the most supportive mom in the world. No matter what our interests were growing up, she supported them one hundred percent. So did our dad.
“I’m glad you and Dad aren’t the typical hyper-competitive hockey parents,” I say. “I really appreciate that you two never yelled at my coaches growing up or threatened to punch out the officials.”
Mom laughs and shakes her head. “Oh gosh, your father and I would never.” She clears her throat after a minute. “So. Your sister told your dad and me about how you came to her rescue the other night.”
She raises an eyebrow, the look on her face knowing.
