“Well, I’ve never done anything like that.” I look over. “Or…anything.”
He grins. “Except be awesome at hockey.”
I shrug. “But, end of day, does thathelpanyone?”
“Come on. Sure. You make people happy. You give money away. You’re a role model.”
I think about that. There’s that happy thing again. “But you know the people in Rebel really well,” I say. “Picking stuff up for them like this that kind of gives you a glimpse into their life, right?”
“For sure.”
“Are they thrilled to have a big-shot hockey player show up at their house on a random Tuesday?” I ask, trying to imagine delivering a bag of acetaminophen, foot cream, and mascara to someone in Portland.
He laughs. “They’re thrilled to get the things they need without having to wait for the post office to bring it.” He looks at the kitten. “Or go without the things the post office won’t bring.”
“But having a hockey player as a delivery man is pretty wild.”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“None of these people follow hockey? None of them came to the scrimmage last night?”
“Oh, they were almost all there,” he says. “Except for Miss Betty. She likes baseball. And she tells me that all the time.”
I chuckle, but quiet quickly when the kitten stirs. “Did the others not enjoy it?” I’m surprised to feel a stab of disappointment.
“Oh no, they had a great time. They all came and told me afterward. But today I am Beckett, the guy who helps them out with deliveries and stuff.” He looks over. “The hockey thing’s only part of it. It’s really interesting. They like it. They’re supportive. But it’s only part of what I do and how they know me. When I show up today, they’ll ask me about the roads, if I’ve caught up withOnly Murders In the Building—I have not, by the way, and Cam will be disappointed—, if I have been taking my vitamin C, and if I want any leftovers from last night. By the way,the answer to that is always yes when Kate asks, and no when Tom and Nancy ask.”
I laugh as I think about all of that. This is all a very foreign concept to me. I wonder what it would feel like to have people interested in me beyond hockey. I suppose the way it does when people at the coffee shop want personal facts about me, but times ten, or fifty, or one hundred.
“By the way, if you want to keep helping me out with deliveries, I can use you. Either to come along with me like this for the big stuff, or I can send you out on your own. I have enough business and could expand.”
I look down at the kitten. I can think of a lot worse ways to spend my time. “I have been a little bored. I’m still trying to figure out a good routine. But yeah, I’ll think about that.”
It would easily be the best way to get to know the people in Rebel. But should I mention to Beckett that I’m only here temporarily? I don’t want him or the people in Rebel to get too dependent on me.
His phone buzzes in the holder he has attached to his dashboard. It’s a message from Sutton. He frowns, and pushes the button to have it read out loud.
“Dad’s calling for tickets. You guys are huge.Sam The Sportsman.”
Beckett and I look at one another.
“Sam The Sportsman?” he says. “The podcast? What does that mean? Do you think the podcast mentioned us?”
I pull my phone out and go to my podcast app. I start to scroll to find the latest podcast episode of Sam’s show. I listen to him a lot and have been a guest a couple of times.
“Does your dad come to a lot of games?” I ask. My parents haven’t been to one of my games in person in years. My grandfather used to come a lot before he died, though. I miss having him there.
“Uh. No.”
Something in Beckett’s tone makes me look over. “Are you and your dad close?”
“Not really. This is probably his way of reaching out.” He looks at me again. “We’re not like estranged. We talk and stuff. But there’s tension.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that. You’re from here, right? Is he still in Rebel?”
“Well, we grew up here. Sutton and I. We lived here till we were eighteen. We moved the summer after we graduated.”
“You mean, your whole family moved?”
