“Sure,” I reply, grabbing cutlery and placemats from the drawers. Dad walks out of his office down the hall when I’m just done filling the water glasses.
“Smells delicious, love,” he says, wrapping his arms around Mom’s waist and kissing her cheek.
“You say that about everything I cook.”
“Everything you cook is delicious,” he replies, and I snort.
“Watch it, kid. You should know by now, never offend the person who keeps you fed,” Dad says, picking a chunk of beef off the plate in front of him and popping it in his mouth before Mom can swat his hand away.
“Sit down, boys,” Mom says.
She places my plate down, the rich tomato filling my nose and making my mouth water before the first bite even touches my lips.
“So, has Raines wised up to your awesomeness yet, kid?” Dad asks.
“Hardly.”
“He will,” Mom adds.
“Coach has me training in the power play one unit, so maybe if I pull that off, he’ll come around,” I say, my voice so full of hope.
“PP-one, that’s great, Luka,” Mom says.
“Yes,” Dad agrees, waving his fork my way. “The coaching team must see your potential, that’s what matters.”
“I’d like Reid to see it too. Oh, I have to eat breakfast at the rink now, apparently.”
“Why? What’s wrong with my breakfasts?” Mom asks.
“Nothing. Reid just said I need to. I don’t mind, though, because the more time I spend with him, the more chances I’ll have to impress him.”
“He’ll come around, honey,” Mom says confidently. “From what I’ve heard, he’s not very social with the team, spends all his time with his younger brothers. So sad what happened to his parents.”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine losing you two.”
Everyone knows what happened to Reid’s parents; it was all over the news his rookie year. Everyone expected him to postpone his rookie season—no one would have blamed him either—but he got out there and helped bring home the cup for Philly that year with a hat trick in the final, which as a defenseman is so fucking unheard of that it’s only ever happened twice before in the thousands of games played. I remember watching the game with my parents, crying my eyes out because my team, the Seattle Sabers, was the one he beat.
“So, enough about me. What’s new with you two?” I ask, and Mom smiles.
“I taught my first beginner’s ice-skating class today.”
“Wow, Mom, that’s great.”
Dad nods from across the table.
“Those are some lucky kids,” he says, shoveling more dinner into his mouth and talking through chews. “Any Olympic hopefuls?”
I laugh. “She just started, give her time, and I bet she’ll have more than one qualifying in no time,” I say, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t know about that, but it did feel good to teach again. There’s this one little boy, Curtis, he’s six and reminds me so much of you. He’s obsessed with hockey too. Maybe you can pop over one day when you don’t have training and say hi?”
“Sure, Mom. Hey, maybe I can get a few of the guys to come with me. Do you know who his favorite player is?”
She bites her lip in the way she does when she’s delaying delivering bad news. It’s the same face I saw when I asked her if she’d seen my hamster when I got home one day and couldn’t find him. Poor Mr. Cuddles.
“Don’t say it,” I plead.
“Sorry, kid. But it’s Reid Raines.”
