My stomach drops. She knows what’s up. She’s always been able to see right through me.
“Mom,” I hiss. “Shh.”
Aiden pauses. “Why are you shushing Grandma?”
“Because,” I say quickly, forcing my voice into calm-mom mode. “Some things are for grown-up ears.”
Mom’s lips twitch. “Interesting,” she says instead, staring out the windshield. “Very interesting.” I glare at her. She ignores me.
“Grandma!” Aiden beams. “Mr. Eli is the best player on the Aspens. He’s really nice, too.” Aiden goes on about him like Eli is his new favorite superhero.
“He seemed it,” Mom agrees. “You didn’t mention you knew him, Stella.”
“I didn’t think I would ever run into him again in this lifetime,” I mutter.
“Oh?” She finally turns her head, one eyebrow lifting. “I think there’s more to it than that. I saw the way he stared at you.”
I swallow and whisper. “I don’t want Aiden knowing about college.”
Aiden frowns. “What about college?”
“Nothing,” I say, instantly. “Just… boring adult stuff.”
Mom hums unconvinced, mouthing. “You dated him?”
I nearly drive us into a snowbank.
“Mom,” I warn through gritted teeth.
“What?” she whispers innocently. She tilts her head. “Oh, you absolutely did.”
I shoot her a look that could peel paint. “We are not doing this right now.”
“And Mr. Eli has a C on his jersey. Do you know what that means?”
“I do,” I say, nearly coughing. “C stands for Captain. I know a lot about hockey.”
Oh, boy, does that letter C bring back memories from the night I first met Eli…
Aiden gasps. “You do?”
I sigh. “Yes. I’ve observed a few games.”
Mom snorts. “Hockey players probably make good money,” she adds, because she’s enjoying this far too much.
“Mom!”
“What?” she repeats. “I’m observant, too.”
“Enough. We’ll talk about this later,” I warn, and turn up the music, giving up on trying to control the conversation.
Finally, I pull onto our street—if you can call it that; it’s more of an alley tucked behind the shops in downtown Boulder. I park in our space behind Mom’s craft store.
Aiden unbuckles. “Can I have a snack? All that skating made me hungry.”
“Yes,” I say automatically. Mom glances at me, surprised. I usually control his snack cravings before dinner, but desperate times… Neither of us moves to get out and follow him, watching him stomp up the stairs to the apartment above the shop and unlock the door.
“What, Mom, what is it? You’re staring at me so hard I can hear your eyes breathing.”
