Page 56 of O Goalie Night
She shoots me a nervous glance before shrugging. “Not especially.”
I have to turn away to hide my grin. I plate the food and say nothing.
“Really?” Ben asks. “You were always up at six a.m. on weekends.”
I catch her eye roll as I bring the plates to the table.
“When I was ten, dumbass.” She sits down at the table across from me. “I had to get up early to maximise watching Saturday morning cartoons.”
Ben sits down next to her, elbowing her in the side. “Well, in my head you’re still ten. And don’t call me a dumbass or I’ll tell Mom.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and when he glances at the screen he frowns before setting it down next to him, face down.
Beth seems to notice as well, but doesn’t dwell on it. “Alright. So, what do you want to do today, dumbass?”
He laughs and I smile watching the two of them bicker back and forth even though the sight stings. Cody and I used to give each other shit all the time.
He was always there to keep my ego in check when we were kids. People started raving about my skills in the net at an early age and Cody could always be counted on to remind me that he could still beat me in an arm wrestling match. As we got older, the good-natured teasing gradually morphed into resentment and we were never the same.
“We could go shopping,” Ben suggests. “Do you need anything for your new place? Or do you have any Christmas gifts to buy?” He pauses, a forkful of eggs hovering in front of his mouth before asking, “Speaking of which, what are we getting Mom and Dad?”
“We’re getting them matching handcrafted rocking chairs made from the reclaimed wood of the two big oak trees they lost in Hurricane Fiona.”
“Nice.” He nods appreciatively. “That is incredibly thoughtful of us.”
“I agree.” She grins at him.
Ben’s phone buzzes and then buzzes again a few seconds later. I see his shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t move to look at his phone.
“Shopping sounds fun.” Beth glances at his phone as it buzzes again. “I was also planning to test drive a car later.”
“You were?” Ben and I ask at the exact same time making her shift in her seat. This is the first time she's mentioned it. I assumed she’d continue driving my Lexus while she was staying here.
“Yes.” She sips from her mug before continuing. “I need to find something in the next few weeks so I can drive home for Christmas.”
“You think you’redrivinghome?” Ben almost spits his coffee out.
I watch her stiffen at his tone. “Iamdriving home.”
“Beth, that’s a fourteen-hour drive.”
“I’m aware of that, Ben.”
“Well then, you should know that you can’t make that drive on your own. Book a flight.”
As much as I hate the idea of her travelling that far by herself, I don’t appreciate the way Ben’s speaking to her and from the way Beth is glaring at him, I can tell I’m not alone.
“Flight prices are insane this time of year.” She says with a surprisingly calm voice.
“So?”
“So, we’re not all professional athletes, Benjamin. I can’t afford to spend two thousand dollars right now.”
I picture her using this voice on particularly exasperating students and Ben, the dumb bastard, is not reading the room at all.
“I’ll buy you the plane ticket, Bug. You’re not getting a used car and driving it across the country in December.” He says it in a way that suggests the discussion is over. “Are you still driving Foster’s Lexus?”
Beth’s lips are pressed so tightly together they’ve turned white and I’m genuinely concerned if she opens them that fire might stream out.
“Yes,” I answer for her.
