Page 94 of Breakaway Hearts

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.” Owen extends his hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine. Take a seat,” Granddad betrays me.

“Oh, he can’t stay, I’m sure. Are you meeting someone or just picking up food?” I try to sound friendly, though I’m deeply praying for the latter. But that doesn’t make sense when I remember Jason is supposed to be at his house for Team Dinner. And Owen looked happy to see me, not pleasantly surprised…

“I was actually with Gravy – Jason,” he adds for my grandfather, though I’ve never heard anyone call him that. “But Vales needed some help with a math thing, so he asked if I wouldn’t mind picking you up. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

“You jealous?” Granddad chuckles, but he’s eyeing him like it’s a weighted question.

“Nah, it would be selfish to keep someone as bright as Madison locked away.”

“She does have a boyfriend, then?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Owen in no way conveys that we are anything other than acquaintances, mostly by looking at me like he wishes we were.

Granddad looks at him suspiciously before saying, “Gravy, huh? Did Jason finally take up football?”

“Hockey,” Owen corrects, whereas I was trying to stay away from that, hence saying friend instead of teammate.

“He’s playing again?” Granddad looks to me but asks Owen.

“I was very convincing,” Owen explains. “Our goalie graduated, and our backup was…not someone who planned to play beyond high school.”

“You’re the captain, I guess?”

“Newly minted,” he agrees. “Not sure I deserve it, but I got us Gravy.”

“I’m sensing there’s a story?” Granddad asks.

I’m about to tell Owen I don’t need a lift and walk…but for once, he listens to my warning.

“Happened at team dinner. Rolls off the tongue better than Hargraves,” he answers as if my grandfather was asking about the nickname. But then he adds, “We missed you.”

I could kill him.

“What position do you play?” Granddad asks. “In my day, quarterbacks always made captain.”

“He’s a forward, Granddad. You know the positions,” I reproach as he harumphs.

“Did you play?” Owen asks.

“Never skated in my life,” Granddad says proudly.

“I meant football. You look like you might’ve been one of those captains.”

Up to this point, Owen has remained standing, allowing me to think he wouldn’t be staying long, whether he left with me or on his own, but Granddad’s face lights up as he scoots to the side so Owen can slide in with him.

“Even got a scholarship to Notre Dame, if you can believe it, before I tore my ACL senior year,” Granddad admits. “They used to say I was as fast as Thompson.”

“That winning catch in ’76 was incredible.”

“You were nowhere near alive to see it.”

“My dad brings it up every time someone comes close to matching it. Or fails spectacularly.”

They start talking about the best passes and players in football history while I zone out and wonder if they’ll notice if I excuse myself and don’t come back. Granddad orders pie, when he told me he didn’t want dessert, and they eat it with two forks as if they’re here on a date, discussing the current Coyotes roster.