“Cassy’s been gushing about you and Sam to my sister ever since that ice cream at the park,” I said. “Abby finally met Sam yesterday, and today she asked if Sam’s sister was really ‘that awesome.’”
Mel’s brow arched. “And you said…?”
“That if she insisted, she could see it for herself Sunday when I was back in town. And dinner is on her.” I glanced at her. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Her mouth curved. “Not at all.”
But her jaw set in a way that didn’t match her smile. Something was working behind it, and I couldn’t quite read. “Are you tired?”
“A little. Everything’s been a bit of a mental obstacle course lately. Sitting in the family section…is fine. But it puts me on edge.”
“Anyone say anything?”
“No, but I’m new.” She bit her cheek. “I kept waiting for someone to look twice. I don’t know. I just feel it.”
“That minute before the puck drops, huh?”
“Yep. Because, eventually, it always does,” she said.
That second before the big anticipated thing. I knew it too damn well.
“It’ll pass.” I reached over and squeezed her hand, then started the car. “Thanks for putting up with who I am, for coming tonight.”
“I wanted to.”
The restaurant was nearly empty, dimly lit with soft jazz playing overhead. We slid into a booth, the vinyl seats squeaking slightly beneath us. I reached for the menu, even though I already knew what I wanted.
The server came and took our orders.
“Chicken for me,” she said, grinning, “and for him, steak with way too many adjectives.”
The server blinked, pen hovering midair.
I smiled. “She means medium-rare with garlic butter, a side of grilled shallots, and lemon juice.”
She gave a small laugh.
After the server left, I glanced back at her. “Didn’t know you were keeping notes.”
“It’s impossible not to,” she said, eyes dancing.
“Guess I’ll have to start noticing what you notice.”
“Oh, I noticed. You know, after watching the game a few times now, I have this itch to write what I’ve seen in people.”
“A comic reporter in the making? What things …?” I asked, glad she was eager to talk, because my brain had cheese holes right now.
“You looked like you were orchestrating a battlefield out there.”
I laughed, low. “That’s dramatic.”
“Well,” she said, eyes gleaming now, “I also saw you chewing your gum to death after Asher took that hit in the second.”
I pointed at her. “He’s fine. And my gums are a casualty of war. Might get its name on the locker room wall.”
She chuckled. “It’s like hockey never let go of you, and you didn’t want it to.”
My fingers curled around the foot of my wine glass. “Yeah, I was almost sixteen years in the league, bounced through a couple teams, and spent my last seasons here in Tahoe. Retired from playing at thirty-four, six years ago now. Did a year in scouting and player development before moving into coaching. Assistant coach first, then head coach two years ago this month.”
