Page 8 of Lucky Shot
“Tiring.” Four days of grueling workouts with one of the best sports trainers in the business will do that.
“And the shoulder?” he asks.
Instinctively I tighten the muscles on my right arm. It’s been months since I broke my collarbone and dislocated my shoulder in a season-ending injury. Surgery, plus rehab was not how I planned to spend the first half of the summer but at least I’ll be ready come October. Physically, I feel stronger than ever.
“Good. It didn’t give me any issues.”
“That’s great news.” Genuine relief is apparent in his expression.
I guess I wasn’t the only one worried I wouldn’t come back from it. At this point in my career, every injury has me, and I guess my dad too, questioning how much longer my body will hold out.
“How’s everything here?”
“Great. Is Aidan coming back early too?” His brows draw down and his lips purse as he waits for my answer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s bummed out at the prospect of seeing his grandson. Which makes fuck all sense.
“No. Just me. He’s staying at his mom’s until tomorrow.”
“Good. Good.”
I narrow my gaze to study him closer. He’s back to acting strange, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. My dad and son are tight. Arguably closer than I am with either of them. All of Dad’s overbearing and frustrating mannerisms soften aroundAidan, and my son is more like the sweet kid he was before his preteen attitude took over.
“Well, you probably want to get unpacked,” he says in a happy tone that feels fake as hell.
“I thought we could grill tonight. Chicken, veggies, maybe we could do kebabs.” Sitting on the back deck with a beer in hand sounds perfect right now.
“Sure. That’d be nice or you could head into town and enjoy a night out before Aidan gets back.” His reply is so predictable I’m embarrassed I didn’t see it coming.
“We can go out to eat if you prefer.” I dodge the blatant attempt to get me out of the house like I’m a forty-year-old single man still living with his parents. I’m thirty-one, my dad lives with me, and I happen to like being unattached.
“You don’t need your old man cramping your style. I have leftovers in the fridge. Go. Have fun.” He brushes past me, missing the eye roll I throw in his direction.
“It’s about two hours too early for dinner.”
“Get drinks first,” he offers, upbeat, like it’s the best idea he’s ever had. “What’s Travis up to? I’m sure he’s game for a night out.”
My teammate Travis is always up for a night out so it’s a good guess.
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” I cross my arms over my chest. “More than usual.”
“I’m not.” He doesn’t quite meet my eye, but he waves off the idea with one hand. “I only want to make sure you’re having some fun. You’ve spent all summer training instead of letting loose.”
It’s an argument we’ve had many times before.
He picks up a dust rag and a bottle of multipurpose cleaner. “Anyway, go or don’t. I’ll be down at the cabin if you need anything.”
“You’re moving into the cabin?” My voice climbs with surprise. Six months ago, my father had a heart attack. He was already staying with me and Aidan, on and off, but that scare was the catalyst for him to move from my childhood home in Kansas City to live with me and Aidan.
My house is plenty big enough for all three of us, but I worried he might like to have his own place. When the small cabin next door went up for sale a week later, I took it as a sign. It needed work so it took some time for it to be renovated, but in the nearly three months since it’s been ready, Dad has refused to move out there. He claims he likes hearing me and Aidan moving around the house (even as he’s started wearing noise-cancelling headphones most of the time to drown us out). It’s become a sore subject and neither of us has mentioned it in weeks.
There are a lot of things we don’t talk about. The Galaxy family motto is to keep your emotions to yourself—good and bad. I’d forgotten how much it annoyed me. Partly because it reminds me I’m just as bad about holding things in, and partly because I can now recognize when he’s doing it.
To say it’s taken some adjusting to him being here is an understatement. I thought I knew what I was getting into since before he moved in he was already visiting us a lot, especially during the hockey season. He’d fly in and stay for a week or two at a time so someone would always be here with Aidan on my weeks. I was grateful to have him around. Still am. Not just because I want to keep an eye on him and make sure he’s doing everything he can for his health or because it’s convenient to have someone I trust around here while I’m gone, but because I want Aidan to grow up with family nearby. It’s a tough life being traded from team to team, uprooting his life repeatedly and taking him away from friends and routine.
Moonshot is the third team I’ve played for since I joined the league, the same year Aidan was born. Three years in Chicago, then four in Minnesota. Moonshot is finally our chance to build a home and a life. I signed a contract that will keep us here for seven more years. Assuming I can get a couple of one-year extensions, Aidan can finish out high school here and I can play out the rest of my career in Montana.
“No,” he says, igniting a twinge of annoyance in me with that one word. “I, uh, just don’t want it to get dusty in there after all the work you put in to making the place so nice.”
I bite back my first retort,“What the hell does it matter if no one is going to live there?”and instead say, “Larry and Pam clean it every other week.”
