“Apologize. Even if your heart or mind isn’t there, apologize.” Rough hands rub at my cheek.
“And if she doesn’t accept it? Or rejects me?” I don’t want our history to repeat itself.
I feel Mom’s laugh against my cheek. “Well, you and your sisters were never supposed to date or marry until you were forty. However…” Mom grumbles about Jordan’s current boyfriend. “Then she does, and you have to accept it.”
The entrance door opens. Mom jumps from the table, and I follow behind her to the front of the store. She starts to greet a customer, but it’s Dad. “Cooper, this is a surprise.”
Mom convincesme to stay for the day for an early birthday celebration. Dad and I help her finish building center pieces and delivering them to a wedding across town. The bride was in tears, ruining her makeup, when we showed up. Apparently, her florist cancelled two days ago, and Mom was her last resort.
After they wanted to take me to dinner, but I requested a home-cooked meal. Mom says she’s a terrible cook, but she’s not half bad. Still, it’s Dad who makes spaghetti with his special sauce and fresh meatballs.
I’m clearing the dishes, ignoring my phone that’s blowing up.
Sutton
Jordan said you drove home. When will you be back?
Can we talk? Please, Cooper.
LOML JAXON
What happened with Sutton? She’s had two milkshakes tonight.
Did you know your sister dyed her hair blue?
She could do our bleached tips!
Sutton
At least talk to your dad…please
“I recorded the game. Wanna watch?” Dad asks, boxing up leftovers.
I check the time. It’s almost seven thirty and I should drive back tonight. We have practice tomorrow and I have an unofficial-official pop quiz that’ll be an automatic zero if I miss. The professor is a hard-ass that allows no make-ups or extra credit. It’s the only class I find myself consistently studying for whilst feeling behind.
Sutton’s last text flashes in my head. “A period or two. Let me finish these and pack up.” Mom’s sending me back with boxes that Jordan requested. “Twenty minutes?”
Mom puts the vase of tulips I requested on the counter before kissing my forehead goodnight. She points in Dad’s general vicinity, then at me, and makes a talking hand. I silently sigh, her intuition can be annoying. “Night, Mom. Thank you for this morning.”
We’d talked more throughout the day. My frustration with Sutton slipping through my fingers like sand—not that I’ve ever been able to stay upset with her for long.
I’m disappointed in my reaction. The words I used were unnecessary and not true.
I grab another snack from the kitchen before joining Dad. He’s in his mom-approved accent chair, feet kicked up on the gray-striped ottoman.
“One of my buddies just texted,” he says, hitting play on the remote. “Got wind that Chicago is putting together a major trade.”
Chicago is one of my favorite teams, besides Winnipeg and Minnesota. They’re who I’ve always dreamt of playing for, and maybe someday will…if they’d ever want me. I was drafted last year by Carolina.
“Did they say who or what they were trading for?”
“He didn’t say who they were trading, but Carolina needs a goalie desperately.” Dad scrolls, pulling his reading glasses down from the top of his head. “Did mention Chicago were trying to get two defenseman I don’t recognize the names of, then a draft contract.”
I laugh, partially hesitant, partially sarcastic. “When was the last time someone traded a drafted, unsigned player.”
“Recently, I believe.” Dad puts his phone face down, turning to face me. “You can always become a free agent when your contract is up with Carolina. If it wasn’t for their low draft spot, they’d have picked you.” I know he’s talking about Chicago.
“Would they?”
