“Apparently, more than one of the guys’ teammates thinks they’re perfect for her, from what I’ve been hearing.”
Leo has never learned to keep his mouth shut, and we’ve all enabled him for too long. The baby of the family, the only one who takes after Mama’s lighter features instead of the olive skin and dark hair that mark the rest of us as Sicilian like Papa. He greased his path by being the most angelic baby I’ve ever seen, a cheerful temperament and a tuft of blond hair earning him Nonna’s favoritism and the nickname “Cherubino,” which he’s never been able to shake.
“That’s not even true. I—”
Gabri interrupts me with an honest-to-Godgrowl,and Leo’s eyes widen as Nikki smirks.
“What our dear Gabriele is trying to say, Cherubino, is that you can tell whoever is spreadingthoserumors that they have no change with our darling sister. There will be no more hockey players in this house. She deserves better than a degenerate like us.” Gabri must agree with Nikki’s assessment because he doesn’t say anything more than a final grunt as he goes back to eating.
With that final word on my dating prospects for this week, the conversation turns to business, mixed with hockey updates: both Leo’s college team and my brothers’ professional careers with theThunder Bay Rising Tide. I’m proud of them all, especially this year. Gabri made captain, Nikki is having his best year ever as the alternate captain again, and with the regular season coming to a climax soon, they’re all but guaranteed a top seed in the playoffs. We’re hoping Leo will get drafted here, too, and based on what the team will need next year, he should be a perfect fit.
“Niccolò, tell me more about this new goalie you have—”
Papa is interrupted by the shrill ring of our landline, a number that’s only used by a few people for very specific reasons. After a few years of relative peace, it seems to be ringing more often lately. I see Mama and Nonna exchange a loaded look.
Gabri and Nikki rise to follow Papa from the room, the latter giving Mama a kiss to the temple and apologizing that he won’t be here to do the dishes tonight. Leo is half out of his chair, unsure if his recent increased exposure to the business includes involvement in whatever is happening tonight.
Papa pauses in the archway of the dining room, seeing the hopeful look on Leo’s face and sighing. “Leonardo, come.” My little brother’s victorious fist pump earns him an eye roll from Mama as Nonna makes the sign of the cross and starts gathering the remains of the meal.
“You’re the only one I get to keep, Elia. Everyone else is busy with hockey, and if it isn’t hockey, it’s this…”
“I’m not going anywhere, Mama.”
“She’s not going anywhere, Giulia. But she needs to bring you another son! One who isn’t involved in thisorhockey, and can just help us around the house and make grandchildren!”
Knowing there’s no way to tell Nonna that there hasn’t been a man anywherecloseto deserving my children, I keep my mouth shut as we clean up from the meal. Mama goes to take her bathand relax as much as she can while the boys are out with Papa, and Nonna goes to her room to watch her show in bed and pretend she likes the plot. We all know she just wants to ogle Tom Selleck. Who can blame her?
In my room, I wind down during my evening routine and take stock of the week ahead. Tomorrow is a full day of baking, with every hour accounted for. I signed up to make gift baskets of breads, cookies, and homemade jam for the raffle at the Emerald Sunrise retirement home, where I visit every Tuesday. That’s on top of my usual weekly haul for the residents and staff. I’ve been going for so long that many of them feel like my adopted family. At this point, I can make everyone’s favorites with my eyes closed.
Tracy will want sprinkle cookies as always, and Horace told me he’s in the mood for pizzelles this time…
A glance at my desk calendar confirms the rest of the week: a visit to the neonatal unit at the children’s hospital to take baby hats Nonna and I knitted, two of Leo’s games, and a gala to raise money for protection against beach erosion. My schedule is typically full, and as I stretch and fill myself with positive thoughts for the week, there are plenty.
My loving, healthy family. Our beautiful home, filled with food and laughter. The ability to choose how I fill my time almost every day, and the fact that I’ve built my life around community outreach and projects that give back.The irony is not lost on me, with that last one.But, generally, I have everything. I shouldn’t covet anything else.
Shouldn’t.
Even my lavender diffuser and soft rain sounds can’t stave off the guilt I feel as my automated window shades lower, signaling it’s time for bed.Deepshame, hidden and only accessed at nightwhen my brain slows enough to feel it. All my practiced deflections, smiling at Nonna’s comments and continuing as if they don’t bother me…
My bedside lamp turns off right on time, and I pull my eye mask down with a huff.
You don’t need a man, Ellie. Stop your nightly pity parties. You have everything you need, and people would kill to have your life.
Maybe not if they knew the risks of being killed themselves.
Chapter 3
“Here, Cuddles. Thisis our proprietary blend. The perfect electrolyte mix to keep you from cramping after practice.”
Accepting the cup of what looks like sewer water mixed with blue raspberry punch, I hold my breath and take a sip. This isn’t the first time I’ve been part of a new team, and overall, the hazing I’ve experienced since joining the Rising Tide pales in comparison to what I’ve heard from elsewhere in the league. I’m not going to complain about a little jungle juice or being the butt of the team pranksters’ jokes. It’s not as bad as I’m expecting, maybe a pre-mixed coffee drink plus the punch with some salt thrown in for added nastiness, but I make a show of giving them the reaction that they want. The sooner I can get past all the “new guy” attention, the better. It takes energy that I don’t have to get to know new people and act like I enjoy small talk, when I need all my efforts focused on the ice.
“Ugh, Jesus, guys. This is too far! The pink skates were one thing, and I actually kinda liked driving the pink rental around. But this is inhumane.”
The ringleader of the hazing, Bugsy, guffaws as I grimace at the aftertaste. His real name is Justin Smith, and he’s a solid defenseman for the Tide, as long as there are no spiders on the ice. Apparently, “initiation” of new blood has been his specialty for a few years now, and his new partner in crime this year is my fellow goalie, Pretzel. Aaron Moffit is the most flexible motherfucker I’ve ever seen, contorting himself into impossible shapes and saving crazy pucks with ease. He’s young and inconsistent, which is why he’s my backup, but he’s got a long career ahead of him if he can keep improving. And if he doesn’t quit to be a yoga guru.
“You’re too nice, Cuddles. We didn’t have the heart to—”
Bugsy is interrupted as I open my locker to find what must bethousandsof tiny pink teddy bears pouring out in a seemingly endless wave. This must have been Pretzel’s idea because he bends over in a silent laugh, overcome by the situation. The bears areeverywhere, in every nook and cranny of my skates, bag, street clothes…I have to give it to the guys, though. Even though they violated my locker, they didn’t move a single thing out of place. My clothes are neatly stacked in the order I’ll need them, and my toiletries are all lined up, labels out, still in perfect order. This isn’t the first time that I’ve sensed suchgoodnessfrom this team, but for some reason, it brings a bit of a lump to my throat today.
