Page 22 of The New Guy
“You okay, Son?” he asks when he’s done with the litany. “Your hip solid?”
“Yup, fine.” It’s just my confidence that’s battered.
When we hang up, I can’t stop thinking about how neatly Gavin put me in my place. He didn’t just bring me down a few steps on the ego ladder, he sent me sliding all the way to the basement.
I make another ice pack for my hip, and lie down in bed, wishing his capable hands were still stretching me. I strain my ears to hear sounds of life from his place next door.
But all I hear is silence.
* * *
The next morning we’re off on a road trip—Minnesota and then Chicago. I’m just rolling my bag out into the hallway when I hear Gavin’s door opening.
My first reaction is to wince, because I’m embarrassed by the way I’ve acted toward him. Twice.
Still, I man up, turn around and smile.
It’s not Gavin at all, though. It’s a girl—probably the same one who singsFrozenat the top of her lungs. She’s not little, but not big, either. Sort of a medium-sized kid, wearing jeans, Chucks, and a black ski jacket.
“Hi?” I say, wondering if Gavin is about to reveal himself.
“Hi!” she squeaks. “I’m Jordyn. You’re Hudson Newgate. Jersey number twenty-two. Defenseman.”
“Uh, yup.” Maybe she knows my face because Gavin—her…uncle? He’s too young to be her dad—has already put my photo on the family dartboard.
“Could I…” She swallows. “Could I have your autograph?”
“You want…”Really?This is hilarious. “Okay. Sure. You got a pen?”
“Jordyn! Where are you?” Gavin’s voice rings out. “Is your backpack ready?”
She glances over her shoulder. “Just a minute, Daddy!”
Daddy?
I’m sure there’s shock on my face when Gavin appears behind her in the doorway. He frowns at me. “Problem?”
“No,” I say after a beat of confusion. “She was just, um…”
“Asking for his autograph!” she says cheerfully.
Gavin’s frown deepens. “I’m sorry,” he says to me. “Jordyn, he’s on his way to catch a plane. You can’t badger him in his own hallway.”
“But Daddy…!”
He pulls her back inside without a word to me, and closes the door. I can still hear them, though. “Is that why you’ve been hanging out in front of the door? This is his home. You can’t pounce on a guy who’s just trying to get through his day.”
“He didn’t mind!” she insists. “I almost had his autograph! I could show the kids in my class! I told them I live next door to Hudson Newgate and Daddy, they didn’tbelieveme. They said I’m a weirdo.”
“Oh, baby,” he says. “Is the new school that bad?”
“I don’t haveanyfriends.”
Ouch. My phone buzzes in my pocket, though, reminding me that there’s a car waiting outside. And I realize I’m just standing here eavesdropping like a creeper.
So I tiptoe toward the stairs and make my exit.
* * *
