Her dress has got to be so uncomfortable to sleep in, but I’m not about to undress her. I glance over at her desk and notice a t-shirt hung over the chair. I pick it up and place it next to her pillow.
“If you wake up,” I say as I cover her with the sheet and blanket, “change into this t-shirt. Okay?”
“Okay, Cam,” she says, her voice filled with sleep.
I sit on the side of her bed and take the pins out of her bun. Then I kiss her cheek. “I’ll never hurt you, Savannah,” I whisper. “Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove it.”
She murmurs something incoherent in response, and I turn off her light and leave for home.
Chapter Fifteen
I knock the puck away from Wayne and skate toward the goal, not stopping until I’ve slammed the puck into the back of the net. Practice this morning has been long and heated, and we’re all about ready to throw somebody into the boards.
Wayne tosses his stick in frustration, and I laugh as it skids across the ice.
“Better watch your temper,” I say just to screw with him. “You don’t want to end up in the penalty box again next week.”
“Fuck off, Wild.” Wayne grabs his stick.
“We need you out there,” I tell him. “You know that.”
“Good time to end practice!” One thing about Craig is he knows when to quit.
We all head for the benches. I grab my skate guards and walk to the locker room.
My dad’s already come and gone, so I don’t have to deal with his critiques and “advice.” And it’s early enough in the day that I can still make it to Savannah’s dance class.
But I pause halfway to the lockers when I spot Bruce Levin sitting in the scorer’s box. I remember how Wayne said he’s the only staff holdover from when Savannah’s dad coached here.
Last night’s conversation with her sister plays in my mind as I nod at Bruce and step inside the box.
“How’s it going?” I ask him.
He looks up from his laptop where he’s furiously typing. “Good.” He gestures to his laptop. “Trying to get down all the notes from practice. Coach wants a rundown.”
“Right.” I pull up a metal chair and sit down on it backwards. “You’ve been working here a while, huh?”
He chuckles. “Savannah was yay-high when I arrived.” He holds his hand about four feet off the ground. “I always tell her she’s my benchmark for how long I’ve been a Cannons’ staffer.”
“And her dad was the coach then, right?”
“Sure was.” He glances onto the ice. “Can remember him like he was still here.”
“Savannah said she was skating young.”
Bruce’s weathered face lights up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “She had these pigtails that stuck out from each side of her head. Her dad would shove a hat over them, but they’d still poke out from underneath. She was the cutest kid.”
I smile. “I’m not surprised. So how well did you know her father?”
All the mirth leaves Bruce’s face. “Well enough. Let me put it that way. You know, for his family’s sake, I hope he wasn’t as bad at home as he was at work. Although I’ve got a sinking feeling he was a lot worse. And Savannah—she took the brunt of it. And she never complained; instead, she took care of that man, I tell you. As screwed up as he was, she cared for him like he was worth something.”
My stomach clenches as I picture Savannah as a little girl, dealing with a man our highly-esteemed staff member clearly has no respect for. I haven’t known Bruce long, but he’s a good guy. And if he disliked Savannah’s father that much, well…he sure as hell has good reason.
* * *
Savannah
I crack open an eye, and the pain in my head…
