“There’s nothing to tell.”
Four sets of eyes are all staring at me. Judging me. Trying to decide whether I’m telling them the truth.
I’m not. But Ican’ttell them the truth. My dads would blow a gasket if they knew I was seeing Bex. Not that they wouldn’t approve, but I have a feeling they would see it as me needing a maternal figure in my life and blame themselves.
It’s never been an issue, but I can see them making it one to justify my actions.
I’ve never been worried about Bex being so much older than I am. I think because of the way I grew up, I matured faster. Pops always said I had an old soul. Maybe that’s why we’re so drawnto each other and why it’s so hard for me to connect with people my own age.
A timer goes off, breaking the staredown. Thank God.
“Saved by the timer,” Dad says. “C’mon. You can help set the table.”
Even though I no longer live here, we all still chip in at dinner. It’s why I’m glad Colorado drafted me. I love my dads and being able to spend my free time here.
By the time we’re seated with Pops’s latest recipe creation—a take on pasta and jambalaya—the conversation has once again turned back to me and my dating.
“Have you had any more luck on the dating front?” Angie asks, scooping a heaping portion of the pasta, sausage, and chicken concoction into her bowl.
“I plead the Fifth.”
The very wrong thing to say because Angie’s eyes light up with excitement. “So this is what you’re hiding.”
“Ang, I’m not hiding anything. The date you set me up on didn’t go well.”
“Edith said she was intimidated by you.”
“She was?” Troy and I ask at the same time.
“Nick is the least intimidating person I know,” Troy tells her. “If she didn’t like him, there are easier ways to say that.”
“Ouch. Thanks, man.”
“Okay, fine. Not Edith. What about someone Piper knows?”
“Or maybe you guys give it a rest for now?” I ask instead. “Let me focus on hockey.”
Troy waves my comment off. “We’re ready for Arizona. Their first string goaltender is out. Should make it easier for us.”
“Oh, the joys of sports talk at the table.” Pops laughs. “And here I thought I’d get away from it when Alex retired.”
We all laugh at that.
“Really, Pops?” I tell him. “You thought you’d get out of sports talk in this house?”
“You love it,” Dad says, squeezing his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “At least I’m not the disappointment and played hockey instead of football.”
Dad bursts out laughing at Pops’s words. “If you could play either sport, I would be shocked. I love you, Carter, but you are not coordinated enough for that.”
“Have you tried hockey?” Troy asks, passing the basket of bread around.
Pops shakes his head. “Never. The closest I got to the rink was taking Nicky to practice.”
“You were a really good hockey dad, though,” Dad tells him.
“I was, wasn’t I?” Pops looks at him with nothing but tenderness in his eyes. It’s the same way Angie looks at her husband.
