“Honey, you don’t have to be defensive with me. I’m only here to listen.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. Now, who is he? When we talked last week, you didn’t mention you had a new coach. Alice is still there, right?”
The breeze pulls my hair across my face, tickling my nose, and I tuck it away. “Yeah, Coach is still here. He’s a new assistant coach.”
“Did he go to Haulton? What’s his name?”
Might as well rip the bandage off. “Luke Holloway.”
“Luke Holloway…” She trails off. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He played in the NHL for years.”
“Hey, Cam,” Mom calls out away from the receiver. “Does the name Luke Holloway sound familiar to you?”
Here we go.
There’s shuffling in the background, and my dad’s voice is muffled.
“Hold on, I’ll put it on speaker,” Mom says to him and then to me, “Honey, I’m putting you on speaker.”
I laugh at the clarification and say, “Hi, Dad.”
“My favorite daughter,” his warm voice rings out.
“Only daughter,” I correct.
“Doesn’t negate the fact that you’re my favorite.”
I smile despite the exhaustion weighing me down as I approach the library where I host my tutoring sessions.
“But what’s this about Luke Holloway? You didn’t text your old man that he’s your new coach?” Dad asks.
“Because I knew that’s instantly all you’d hear every time I talk about hockey now.”
Dad mumbles something I don’t catch, and Mom hushes him. I grew up watching and playing hockey because of how much my dad loved the sport. While I recognized Coach Holloway the second he walked in the room, Dad would’ve been able to hop up there and regurgitate his stats from his rookie season probably better than Luke himself could.
“She’s not a big fan of his so far,” Mom tells him.
“Why not?” he asks.
I repeat my earlier judgment. “He sucks.”
Dad chuckles, and I can picture Mom trying to stop him.
“It’s still early in the season,” Mom says. “Don’t make any harsh judgments just yet.”
“I know, I’m trying.” I really am. This is my final year playing this sport, and I don’t want to spend it annoyed with a coach. I’m just exhausted and in need of a full day where I can rot without any responsibilities to keep me on my feet. “I mean, he’s a Conn Smythe winner after all. There’s a lot he could teach me.”
If he’s willing to, that is.
6
Luke
“Headed out so soon?” a shrill voice calls out behind me as I walk across the parking lot. The breeze brings a bit of a chill to the early evening air, and the sky is painted in various shades of blue and gold.
