“Didn’t do anything.”
“You were going to.”
“Thought about it.”I keep my voice easy.Teasing, not pushing.The agreement was hers, the lines drawn by her hand, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to nudge them every chance I can get.
What I wouldn’t give to reach out and brush my lips against hers, just to see the blush on her cheeks and heat in her eyes that I know she can’t deny, but then I hear it—my name in an awed whisper.
“Atlas Karolak?”a voice asks, tentative.
I turn to find a dad in a Penguins sweatshirt with a small boy holding his hand, both hovering at the end of the display like they’re trying not to spook a deer.The kid’s eyes are huge, and his dad’s phone is already in hand.
“Hey,” I say, easy.“How’s it going?”
The wave of recognition happens quickly once you open the gate.A couple pushing a stroller hang back to listen.Two women by the sock display angle for a better view.The saleswoman lights up like the moon.
“What’s up, buddy?”I ask the little boy who looks like he’s about to have a fit standing before me.
His dad gives him a gentle push my way.
“Um, um… I’ve got your jersey,” he finally stammers.
“Oh yeah?Too bad you don’t have it with you, or I could sign it.You been watching the playoffs?”
His smile lights up and he nods.“You smoked the Eagles last round.”
“Do you play?”
“Left wing, just like you.You’re my favorite player.”
We chat about how he’s taping his stick and whether he’s shooting from the heel or the toe, and I demonstrate both for him.
“Mind if we get a picture?”the dad asks, an echo of three thousand other dads at three thousand other surprise moments I’ve lived through.
The answer is always yes.
“Of course.”I crouch, pull the kid in shoulder to shoulder, and we smile as his father takes a few photos.
“You’re going to watch the second round, right?”I ask as I straighten.
The kid nods so hard his hair flops.“My dad and I are going to game two.We got nosebleeds.”
“Best view in the house,” I say and mean it, because getting to go with your dad is a thing I know some boys don’t experience.“We’ll try to make it worth the climb.”
We trade good-lucks and fist bumps.A few more shoppers, now feeling like they have permission to approach, ask for photos and I gladly oblige.
When I turn back, Maddie’s face is composed but a little pale.She’d been watching the entire exchange with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.She’s angled her body like a human shield between herself and Grayce in the stroller.
“Hey,” I say, low.“You okay?”
She exhales.“I forget you’re famous.”
“Not so famous,” I assure her.“If I were walking down a street in Los Angeles, no one would know who I was.”
Maddie gives a nervous laugh and nods.“Caught me off guard.”
“Sorry,” I say, even though it’s nothing to apologize for.“I can duck it faster if you want.Say no more.”
“You don’t have to avoid interacting with fans just because I’m not used to it.”She keeps her voice even, but her hand is white knuckled on the stroller handle.“It’s just… a lot, but I know I’ll get used to it.”
