“Baby,” I held his little jaw. “I know Coach Grey from when we were kids, he didn’t score all the time either,” I said.
“You knew him?” He asked with widened eyes.
“Yupp. Remember I skated here too? So I know he wasn’t mad at you about that. He had a season where he couldn’t even get one point, let alone goal,” I forced out a wry smile to make my baby feel better.
He widened his eyes at that and then he asked me for five bucks for a slushy, so I think I’d eased his little mind on the matter. I wasn’t as easily satisfied though. Was Greyson actually mad at my kid for not scoring?
Leaving the rink, I lifted Canyon’s bag for him and we headed out together.
Grey’s figure cast a shadow on the cement stairs leading down to the parking lot. He was watching Canyon and I approach through his sunglasses. I hated those damn sunglasses. Grey used to be so easy to read. We used to joke that he’d never be able to gamble because his poker face was so utterly horrible. I wondered if I’d still be able to read him, but I couldn’t tell because his hat and sunglasses took away any ability I’d have anyway. I still wasn’t sure how we were supposed to interact with each other either. Were we supposed to forget the past and just move forward? It was a hard pill to swallow knowing that the bubbly guy that was my person and loved me with everything he had turned into this stoic figure looking back at me with a stony face. God, he still looked the same though. I always wondered if he knew he had every woman looking at him when he entered a room.
We’d said about two sentences to each other so far, and I honestly wondered if we’d speak again all season.
He gave me a curt nod, and I nodded politely back.
When we hit the bottom step, I heard him call out.
“7’s,” he said.
Canyon was number 77.
Canyon turned back towards him, holding up his hand with his slushy in it to cover his eyes. Grey was standing in front of the sun as he walked down the stairs toward us.
“C’mere bud.”
I backed away a bit, giving them some space. I guessed this was a coaching moment of some sort. I figured it was needed, considering my kid thought he was mad at him.
He bent his large frame down, his knees cracking as he lowered himself to canyon’s level and he whispered to him. I stole the moment to study his face. His strong jawline that I used to kiss appeared more prominent than when we were young… but the thing I couldn’t get past was that scar. It bugged me that I didn’t know this part of him.
Canyon was nodding with a serious look on his face. They fist bumped each other then and Canyon bounded over to me.
Grey gave me another nod behind those sunglasses.
“I need my bag, Mom,” Canyon told me.
“Uh, ok. Did you forget something?”
“No, I mean I need to carry it.”
“That’s okay hun, I got it
“No, I hafta,” he seemed to puff out his chest then. “Coach said that real men don’t have their moms carry their bags for them. He said dad shoulda taught me that already.” He looked up at me for verification, but I was stunned. Even if Kevin was a jerk, Grey didn’t know that. He had no place criticizing Kevin… and in extension, me. He was criticizing my choice. Well. He could eat his heart out. It was not my choice, and he took himself out of the running.
I turned back towards Grey, and he was staring right at me, holding my gaze, as if he were challenging me. I could see his jaw throbbing. He gave a brisk nod and turned back to the rink.
Chapter Twenty-three: Jules - Present
Canyon and I made breakfast every Sunday morning together.
I was already sipping some coffee and making pancake mix when he entered the kitchen in his pjs. He sleepily pulled a chair over to the counter where I was mixing the batter and he silently added chocolate chips to it while rubbing his eyes.
The kid knew our routine so well he could do it practically sleeping.
I laughed and kissed his head.
My phone rang, interrupting my stirring. I quickly wiped my hands off on my sweatpants and grabbed up my phone. It was an unknown number calling.
“Hello?”
