“Where is this coming from?” Dad asks, his penetrating gaze turned on me.
I do a casual shrug when my old self—the dutiful daughter—begins to rise to the surface. “It’s a fact.”
Mom heaves an exasperated sigh. “You’re all being silly. This is a hypothetical conversation about something that will never happen. Scarlett, your father is one in a million. I raised Jamie and Ethan to be the same. But you know how most hockey players are. At least when they’re younger. And we know you. You’ve always been so serious with your relationships. If you dated in the hockey community, it would be someone from the front office. Someone without the temptations today’s players face. That would be far enough from your dad where it could be acceptable.”
She casually adds spaghetti to a pot of boiling water, unaware of the turmoil she’s creating inside of me.
“As always, your mom is right,” Dad says, smiling affectionately at her. “And back to your original comment, Ethan—we’re talking about Wyatt and Aiden Wentworth. Wyatt is nobody Scarlett would be interested in because he’s a player off the ice. And Aiden’s one of my alternate captains. Heknowsthe rules, both in the rule book and the unwritten ones. That’s why I selected him for the A, even though he’s brand new to the team.That kid has a quiet leadership I admire, and I know I can trust him. Especially around Scarlett.”
I suddenly feel sick, my stomach churning at a rapid rate. All my annoyance and bravado have shifted into pure anxiety. I always knew getting Dad to understand my relationship with Aiden was going to be hard, but hearing it is making me realize the uphill mountain we’re going to have to climb when we come forward.
And I worry what the cost will be to Aiden when we do it.
“Now, Becks Bailey—if I had seen him sniffing around you, sweetheart—would be the one I would worry about,” Dad continues. “But even he’s got a girlfriend and he’s serious about her.”
“It’s truly the season of miracles,” Mom teases.
The conversation shifts to other topics—mostly about how Ethan is doing in Las Vegas, and every now and then I feel him staring at me. I quickly pull out my phone and decide to distract myself by sending a message to Hadleigh. She flew out to Las Vegas this morning, and she’s going to meet her F1 driver crush, Xavier Williams, at some chic hotel where he’s going to DJ.
I tap open my messages, and the first one I see is from her.
Hadleigh Vanderburg: OMG IT IS HAPPENING IT IS REALLY HAPPENING I AM MEETING XAVIER TONIGHT. I WANT TO VOMIT ALL OVER MYSELF.
I grin and text her back:
If you do that, just tell him you pregamed too hard before hitting the club. I bet he’d respect that. What are you wearing tonight?
I hit send. I’ll be the first one to admit I knew nothing about F1 before meeting Hadleigh, but I’ve become invested in her situation. I’m even going to watch the race on Saturday night. I also learned Xavier is THE playboy on the circuit, loves to have agood time, and can win up the Drivers’ Championship with this race if he wins.
Hadleigh Vanderburg is typing …
It’s Vegas. So I’m doing a short dress, high heels, and SEQUINS. Even though it’s freezing here, I’m going to pretend it’s irrelevant and strut around like it’s eighty degrees instead of fifty.
I smile. I’m so glad I met Hadleigh, she’s so fun. And so, so funny.
I put my phone down and get up off the stool, moving around to where Mom is cooking as Ethan and Dad get into hockey talk.
“Want me to make the salad?” I ask.
She smiles warmly at me. “That was always your task, wasn’t it?”
“It was. I know my limitations. I’m not the world’s greatest cook,” I say, going to the fridge and locating the things I need. I gather everything on the countertop.
Mom opens a cabinet and hands me a large glass bowl. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re really feeling okay?” she asks, studying my forehead.
“Mom. I promise you, I’mfine,” I say, rinsing the cucumbers and tomatoes in a colander.
A guilty expression passes over my mom’s face. “I know, I know, but you’re still my little girl. Even though you aren’t.”
I turn off the water and shake the colander. That’s the problem. The people inside this kitchen—Mom, Dad, Ethan—all still see me as sixteen-year-old Scarlett. As someone they need to protect, as someone they don’t trust to make the right decisions for herself, whether it’s how I feel after being hit in the head or who I can date.
I begin slicing the cucumber as I think some more about this. I thought the hardest part about graduating from college wasmaking new friends. And it was. I’m still in that process, but with Georgie and Hadleigh, I feel hopeful that I’m on the verge of having some good ones.
Now I see that part of being an adult is wrestling with what is expected of me—by my parents, by unwritten hockey code—which is at odds with what I want for my life. I have to find a way to reconcile that, and it’s something I never thought I would have to do.
