“Ha. That’s what I said.” His dad huffed. “Leila, it’s too much. I can barely move, and you’re still hurting.”
“You need more pain meds, Mom?” Damon asked.
She frowned. “I don’t like how fuzzy they make me. I don’t want to get addicted to them.”
“It’s Tylenol. I think you’re safe.”
“Tylenol-3,” she corrected.
“No, you only had a few of those. You’ve been taking the regular stuff the last two weeks.”
She turned to Damon’s father. “You told me it was the stronger medicine.”
He shrugged. “That’s what the boy told me.”
“No, Dad. That’s not what I told you.”
“You calling me a liar?”
Damon saw the sparkle in his father’s eyes and knew he provoked a fight only to distract his wife. So with a healthy dose of sarcasm, Damon added, “If the big-ass shoes fit…”
“Damon.” His mother gasped. “Show some respect to your poor father. And watch your language.”
“Yeah, you little fucker. Watch it.” His dad smirked, and Damon bit back a laugh.
His mother rolled her eyes. “You two.” She motioned for Damon to come closer.
He approached and bent down to receive a gentle, one-armed hug.
“I’ve told you this a bunch of times already, but I’m so happy you’re back. I know it’s not for long, but we really appreciate you being here for us.”
His dad grunted. In approval or dismissal, Damon couldn’t tell.
“You heard from any of your teammates?” Mike asked. “They seem to be doing okay, but not nearly as well if you were there.”
So far in the season, the Ice Raptors had won sixty percent of their games. They should have won ninety, but the offense had lagged, and their backup goalie was still getting used to tending in real games.
“Lars and Mickey keep texting me, complaining about Colby. But the kid is doing his best.”
His father snorted. “That ‘kid’ is only five years younger than you, you know.”
“I know, Dad.”
“He’s getting better fast. Watch it or he’ll be after your position.”
Damon counted to ten in his head. They’d been having this discussion since he’d come home three weeks ago. “If he plays well enough to deserve it, then good for the team. But we all know I’m the league’s best right now. Busted knee or not, I’m going to own the ice when I get back.”
His father grunted. “Good. Can’t believe you’re barely past thirty and breaking already. You stand in the goal cage all day and night covered in pads. How the hell did you get injured?”
“Seriously?”
Mike muttered, “You get that weakness from Uncle Frank.”
“Probably,” Damon muttered back. He didn’t care for his mother’s brother, a die-hard Flyers fan and general whiner.
Leila sniffed. “Nice try, fellas. But I want a lovely family dinner here tomorrow for Thanksgiving. And I want a meal with friends on Friday.”
“They’ll probably be busy with their own family on Friday, Mom.” Damon shook his head. “And if you think I can cook, you might be suffering some head trauma the doctors missed.”
