“All right, healthy, diet-plan-approved lunch is served,” I announce as I put bowls in front of Parker and Jack.
“This looks good,” Parker says, staring down at his food in astonishment. I should probably be offended by the shock evident in his tone, but the learning curve on feeding a child wasn’t forgiving for me. He’s right to be surprised.
“Oh, I don’t—you don’t have to feed me,” Jack tells me, shaking his head and nudging the bowl away. I grab mine, push his back over, and take a seat.
“Listen, bud, the tuna-surprise thing sounded like a cry for help to me. I think Idoneed to feed you.”
Parker makes an exaggerated puking noise. “Tuna surprise!”
“Parks, come on,” I admonish, although it sounds a little bit like a laugh. “Don’t make that sound when we’re eating.”
He laughs and does it again, grinning at me impishly. Jack smiles and ducks his head to try and hide it, reaching for the fork I put next to his bowl.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Yeah, thanks,” Parker repeats immediately, scooping up abite and shoving it into his mouth, one eye squinted as though it was hotter than he’d expected. He looks at Jack. “Sodoyou want to play Minecraft after lunch?”
Jack looks at Parker, then at me as though questioning whether he needs permission.
“Up to you,” I tell him.
“Uncle Des won’t play with us,” Parker adds. “He’s too old for video games.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Old. Like, twenty-two.”
Jack laughs, the kind of happy, unbridled sound I’ve never once heard him make. I smile at him and shake my head. Twenty-two. I wish I was young enough to still think that was old.
“I’m twenty-nine, little buddy. But thank you, much appreciated. Please excuse me while I go and moisturize my face.”
Both of them laugh this time, and the happiness in Parker’s eyes as he looks over at Jack hurts to see. He hasn’t talked this much or been this joyful since we’ve been together.
“So?” he pushes, rice falling out of his mouth as he tries to talk around another bite that was too big.
“Sure, I can hang out for a bit,” Jack says, and then sends another worried glance my direction. “If that’s okay?”
“Stay as long as you like, Jacko.”
5
Jack
I wishI was still at Desmond’s apartment. I wish I was still playing that oddly relaxing game with a kid after eating the best meal I’ve had in months. I wish I was nothere.
The crowd buzzes with energy, and I do my best not to look at the people seated behind the glass when I turn to get a drink of water. I can feel their stares, like tiny pinpricks on my skin. Cold sweat dots my face and slides down the back of my neck. I shouldn’t have let in that goal. It was an easy save—the kind of save a better goalie could have done with their eyes closed. Of course, because I’m a shit goalie, I missed it. Now we’re going to fucking lose, and it’s going to be my fault.
Replacing the water bottle, I rub my eyes before pulling my mask back into place.Don’t look at the bench, I urge myself, but glance over anyway. Seeking disapproval from Coach Mackenzie is like pressing on a bruise—a hurt that I crave, because it’s a way to validate everything I already know. I shouldn’t be here, and he shouldn’t be giving me ice time.There are so many better options. He knows it. I know it. Everyone watching the game knows it. Desmond will know it soon if he hasn’t figured it out already.
Coach Mackenzie isn’t looking at me, though, but bent over and listening as one of our centers talks to him. Instead, my gaze finds Desmond, whoislooking at me. My already warm face flushes and I look away, back up the ice. How mortifying. He was so nice to me today, cooking lunch and letting me hang out and even use his damn washing machine. Now, we’re going to lose our opening game because I can’t do a single thing I’m supposed to.
The lack of Nate in our ranks throbs like a physical ache as everyone lines up at center ice for a face-off. He would have said something funny or patted me on the head after I let in that goal. Hell, he probably would have tried to stop it himself. But he’s not here, which means I have to play alone, and I fuckingcan’t. I can’t do this.
Two minutes later, the buzzer sounds and the referee skates over to pull the puck from my net. I reach under my cage to rub my eyes again. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like I can’t breathe around it. Two goals in less than three minutes of play.Pull me, pull me, pull me, I chant in tune with my heartbeat.Pull me out!
Coach calls a time-out, and my legs seem to be made of noodles as I skate over to the bench. I lean against the boards next to where our backup goalie is seated, keeping my eyes pointed downward. I imagine I can feel Coach’s disappointment from here. Carter Morgan would never have let in those goals. Carter Morgan would be embarrassed by how often I let his old team down.
“Jacko.” A long, brown finger hooks into the cage of my mask and Desmond gently pulls my face upward. The movestartles a laugh from me, although it sounds a little unhinged even to my ears. It sounds like a laugh you try to force out when you’re crying.
