Dad nods. “Makes sense.”
Mom regards him steadily. “Are you okay with this? After what she nearly cost him?”
“She was a kid in high school,” he says quietly. “With an overbearing, overprotective father and no idea how to navigate the curveballs life threw them. How mature were you at eighteen?”
Mom has the grace to flush, dipping her head in acknowledgement. “Okay, that’s fair. But our concern is Jordan.”
“Of course it is, but he loves her,” Dad says simply. “No one was going to keep me away from you, and I can see no one is going to keep him away from her. He has enough of me in him for me to know that. So, our job now is to support him in whatever way he needs.”
Thank God my father tends to be the voice of reason. Mom can be fiercely protective of me, which I totally understand, but in this case, I don’t need her to protect me. I just need their support.
“I promise I’m going into this with my eyes wide open,” I say. “That’s why we’re taking things one day at a time. I’m busy with hockey, she’s got both school and work, so we’re just going to see how it goes. I don’t want you to worry.”
Mom chuckles. “You know that’s not possible, right? I worry every time you get on the ice. I worry every time I see a picture on social media of you out partying. I’m your mom—I worry.”
“You stalk me on social media?” I ask, trying to look stern even as a grin threatens to break through.
“You bet your ass I do!” She gives me a pointed look. “I’m lucky if you call once a week—how else will I know how you are?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better.”
She waves a hand. “You’re busy. I get it. But that’s why I stalk your socials.”
I’m going to have to be a lot more careful what I post.
“Do we get to meet her this time?” Dad asks.
“I’m not sure when, since we’re both really busy, but if we make the playoffs, you’ll fly down for some games and we’ll make it happen.”
“Son, we just want you to be happy,” Dad says. “Remember that.”
“I know. And I will be.”
“And keep us posted,” Mom says softly. “Because now I’m going to worry even more.”
I can’t do anything about that, but I make a mental note to try to communicate better, even if it’s just a text every few days.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “It means a lot to me that you’ll give her a chance.”
“As long as she doesn’t hurt you, that’s all I care about,” Mom says, reaching out to squeeze my arm.
“She won’t.”
At least, I really hope not.
Chapter 15
Victoria
The only time we eat dinner as a family is on Sundays. It’s the only day all of us are around, and even if I work, I’m home by five or six, so I don’t really have a choice. My mom usually cooks something everyone likes, like her special two-cheese meatloaf, and either Ivy or I try to make dessert. I had to work today so she made a peanut butter pie and I’m at least looking forward to having a piece of that.
“You’re late,” my father says when I walk in at five after six.
“We had a little trouble balancing the register,” I say as I wash my hands. “But it’s just a few minutes.”
He grunts. “I’m hungry.”
“You didn’t have to wait for me.” I shrug before sliding into my place at the kitchen table. There’s a formal dining room but we only eat in there on special occasions. Instead, we crowd around the smaller but cozier kitchen table.
