“Enrique could use a looking at with that bruise he got from the last game. It’s healing slower than expected. Other than that, everyone’s looking pretty healthy on my end.”
“Justin?”
“Everyone is good on my end too,” I say. “I noticed that Gabe has lost a bit of weight since the start of the season. I don’t think it’s cause for concern, but we should keep an eye on that. Maybe toy with his nutrition plan seeing as he’s expending more energy as the season heats up.”
“Didn’t you mention the other day that he looked like he was a bit out of it during the game?” Frankie asks, directing the question Overton’s way. My worry increases when he nods.
“He seemed like he was having trouble focusing,” he says. “We’ll keep an eye on him. Any other notes?”
“I’m good,” I say.
“Good,” Coach shifts in his seat and sits up straighter. “Now, with the second half of the season starting and everyone ramping up for the Independence Conference and the Frozen Four, there are going to be scouts in the crowds watching our players. I’ve alreadyhad a few contact me about one or two of them and I’m going to get the guys to consider finding representation. I’m proud of this team and what we’ve accomplished so far this year.”
I’m sure Gabe is one of those that the scouts are looking at. He’s great at the game, dedicated, and an overall fantastic team player. He isn’t cocky like some I’ve seen during the home games. Some people let the moment go to their heads, but Gabe isn’t like that.
Owen’s questions about whether Gabe is going to live with us float through my mind. I’m not sure what Gabe plans to do after he graduates. I know he’s studying Sports Medicine, but that could take him anywhere. It took me almost across the country.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my thoughts from spiraling, focusing on the slight pain instead.
I listen to the assistant coach chime in with a few notes from one of the away games. I’m grateful that the college worked with my schedule when I accepted the job, but I still wish I could travel with the team. Not just for selfish reasons, either. I feel like I’m missing important things, like minor injuries that I should be looking out for when they get back.
Frankie does an amazing job of documenting the things that happen, and I always agree with her suggested plans for the players, but it’s still not the same.
I think Owen has a long weekend in February for a holiday. Maybe we can join a game as spectators wherever they’re playing.
Once our meeting wraps up, I’m the first out to go find my kid. And my Daddy.
***
When I step into the banquet room where the whole team is waiting, I feel the tension and worry drain from my body. My son, in all his red-headed adorableness, is wearing a jersey that’s at least ten sizes too big for him. He’s also wearing a helmet and is dragging a hockey stick taller than his own body beside him.
It’s outrageous but also so adorable. Owen looks beyond happy.
“I think we have a future hockey player here!” Gabe declares. Even past the helmet, I can see Owen smiling with all his teeth on display.
“Daddy! Look at me!” He waddles over to me, nearly tripping on the jersey it’s so long. “I can play hockey now!”
“I think you might need to learn how to skate first,” I say. “You got those new skates for Christmas that we can use.”
“Team bonding!” one of the guys shouts. I’m so beyond grateful that everyone, college players included, are going out of their way to make sure my son feels welcome. I know Owen hides it, but I can tell that not seeing his grandparents or talking to them anymore makes him sad. “Owen, do you want to go out on the ice after we eat?”
“Yes! Can I, Daddy? Please, please, please!” He drops the stick, and his hands grab onto my shirt, in a very ‘give-me-my-money-or-else’ style. There is pure excitement in his expression behind that faceguard.
“That’s fine with me,” I tell him. “As long as everyone is being careful.”
Gabe trails after me and Owen when we grab our food. I try to be sneaky and watch what he puts on his plate. It’s not nearly enough, and definitely not a full, balanced meal appropriate for an athlete. Still, I don’t say anything to him as we find three seats for us. Iknow that Gabe is my Daddy, but right now I’m still in a bit of work mode.
Instead, once we’re at our table, I slide our plates around, nodding at him when he stares at the food on what was my plate. It’s not a lot (I might have snuck some of Owen’s snacks between evaluating the guys) but it’s more than a handful of grapes and the smallest portion of salad known to man, which is the meal he had chosen for himself.
“Just eat it. Please?” I watch his face, but there is nothing to read. After a long moment, he concedes and picks up the fork. I give him a soft smile, relief washing over me. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Chapter Eighteen
It’shardtobeupset with Justin when he thanks me so sweetly, but I still feel a stab of irritation at the situation itself. The plate of food in front of me seems almost excessive in comparison to the meal I’d gotten myself. The carbs and calories here are going to mean extra gym time…however Ididjust promise to take Owen out on the ice. Maybe I can skate some of the extra intake off.
I mean, it’s not that I don’t appreciate my Boy looking out for me. I’d do the same thing for him if I didn’t think he had enough food on his plate…which, seeing as he has taken mine, now hedoesn’thave enough for my liking.
Yes, I know how hypocritical that sounds, but he’s not trying to stay in top shape to be fast on the ice and keep his scholarship. As soon as I’ve graduated, I’ll go back to eating more of what I want, too. It’s not like I love having to watch what I eat so vigilantly.
