But that’s what our partnership needs to be.
I pivot, asking Theo, “How are things looking with the search for a GM?”
I expect a smirk from my friend. Something full of his normal cocksure attitude—an attitude that benefits him as he wheels and deals for players.
Instead, there’s something like vulnerability in his eyes as I mention the very real possibility that he could move fromactingGM toofficialGM with the job hunt. “I think I have a real good shot at the opening,” he says, holding up crossed fingers. “Let’s catch up over dinner soon?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
He points to Charlotte. “You in, math genius and future best vet in America?”
“I’ll be there,” she says.
Theo’s already my closest friend.
He looks out for my daughter.
He’s also the man who’s playing a key role in running the team. If he nabs the opening for good, he’ll officially be…my boss.
I don’t want to lie to my boss any more than I want to lie to my friend.
Later that night, after Charlotte’s tucked into bed, I wander into the kitchen, yank open the fridge, and stare at the options for a late-night sandwich. But I barely notice the ingredients. I’m wishing I could ask my mom for her advice.
How do I balancethis…what even is it that I feel for Mabel? Lust, sure. But sometimes it feels like longing.
I grab some slices of fresh chicken, an avocado, and a block of Gouda delivered from the gourmet cheese shop in the heart of downtown Cozy Valley. But before I snag the loaf of bread on the counter, I reach for my phone.
I click on my email, then search for Penny. My mom’s name pops up right away. She lived with me the last few years of her life. Well, here on my property, in a cottage across the yard that she shared with my stepdad, who took care of her most of the time. I helped as much as I could when I was home—cooking for her, even though she’d lost her appetite, doing balance exercises with her, even though that was hard. And, maybe most importantly, just hanging out and watching sports and TV shows together.
But while she was often close to me, she still sent me emails every day when I was on the road.
I click on a random one.
Today I walked to the cheese shop with Ray. Well, okay, I didn’t walk there. We drove there, but then I walked several blocks downtown to pick up the cheese. I’ll make a grilled cheese sandwich for Charlotte when Sarah drops her off. She loves it with the fake bacon. I think I even like fake bacon now! My hands were shaking as I carried the cheddar, but I think I did okay otherwise.
I walked back to the car at the edge of downtown with Ray by my side. Doesn’t sound like much, but I did it. No falls, yay! Didn’t have to call the fire department, so it was a good day. The doctors say the more you exercise, the more you can perform daily activities. So I’ll keep walking as long as I can. I watched your game last night. Nice goal, kiddo!
Love,
Mom
My throat tightens horribly, thinking of all the daily activities that felt like mountains to her at the end. Walking to the kitchen. Mixing flour and butter. Opening the oven.
Eating, even.
Mountains that meant there were no more good days.
I close the email and remind myself to focus on my goals for good days—the game I play, my kid, the team.
I look at my hands—steady, sure, confident. I’m not worried about Parkinson’s for me. That’s not my concern. But I have to rememberthisis a gift—the things I can do. The way I can play. The fact that I can score goals in the NHL.
I can’t take that for granted just because Ilongfor my best friend’s sister.
15
THE BEST LAID KIDNAPPING PLANS
CORBIN
