Page 37 of Love of the Game
Both of his eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” There was a hint of a smile on his lips. “Tenant, then? Roommate?”
Fine. I’d say it. “Boyfriend.”
“Ooooh. Boyfriend.” He pulled me close and stole a kiss. “Don’t argue with your boyfriend.”
Mac slapped me on my back and pushed a little yelp out of me.
“Kid’s right. Don’t argue with him.” Then Mac was gone, out the door, too, leaving me startled and laughing out of sheer reflex.
Drake was grinning like he’d won the jackpot. Maybe we both had.
After everyone headed home, I grabbed my cell phone and jiggled it at Drake. “Going to call my parents.”
His eyebrows rose. “This late?” It was almost midnight.
“Well, they’re in Vancouver, so…”
“Right. Time zones. Duh.”
I chuckled, then dialed, and my father answered.
“Hej Pappa, God Jul.”
“God Jul, son. Hur mår du?”
I laughed, because the answer to that was nearly always the same. “Bra, bra, du?”
“I’m fine, so’s your mother, but I’m sure she’ll fill you in on all those details later. Team’s doing well, I see. Beautiful goal the other night.”
Of course Papa watched every game of mine that he could. “All I had to do was put my blade down. That was all Drake.”
And of course Papa disagreed. “Williams certainly was a major component, but I saw your backcheck and passing to set that up. For someone convinced that they’re not a good skater, you flew up the ice.” Humor laced his words.
I rolled my eyes, paced from the kitchen to the livingroom and flopped onto the couch. “That’s not good skating, that’s fast skating. Anyone can do that.” I sounded more like a teen than an adult.
“Jon.” His admonishment was gentle and full of love. “You know that’s not true.”
I sighed. “Okay, yes. I helped set the play, and I knew where I needed to go if it worked, but it was Drake who made that happen. I don’t think there’s another guy on the team who could’ve gotten around their D like he did.”
“That’s better,” he said. “And yes, you’re right. It’s also good to see Williams get his swagger back. Kid’s going to be quite the star in a year or two.”
Drake, puttering around the kitchen called out, “It’s kind of rude to talk about someone in a language they don’t understand.”
I gave Drake a look, and said, “I’m telling my father that goal the other day was all you, that’s all.”
“It was not! You’re the one that set up the breakout and got to the net! That was all you!”
In my ear, my father started laughing. “Give him the phone for a moment.”
I stood, paced to the kitchen and held out my phone to Drake. “My father wants to speak to you.”
That made his eyebrows arch so high, I thought they might fly off his face, but he took the phone. “Hello, sir.” A pause. “Gunner.”
Yeah, Papa hated being called sir. Absolutely convinced he was just some dude, not a hall-of-famer everyone looked up to.
“No, I know.” Drake’s gaze met mine. “He’s so smart out there.” The smile that slid onto Drake’s face lit up my world. “Yes.” Another look at me. “I will. Thank you, Gunner.”
Then Drake handed the phone back to me. “Your dad’s nice.”
