Page 100 of Home Ice

Brant's arms go around me and clasp in front of my belly as he rests his chin on my shoulder. "It is special. Because it's all of us." And I realize I must have been talking out loud.

"It was supposed to be the night..." I let my words trail off because I know how stupid I'm going to sound once I say them.

"The night what?" He kisses the side of my neck and a warm wave rolls through me even though the last thing I want to feel is comforted.

Brant shaved before he came over, but his cheeks are already rough with the emerging stubble. I can't resist running a finger across it as I turn. His lips are so close now, just inches from mine. His breath is warm on my nose. Since it doesn't smell like fetid compost, I know he hasn't actually snuck a bite of the potatoes that he's pretending are good. "The night I officially introduce you and Chloe to my dad," I whisper. And the last night that I'll ever disappoint him. I keep my lips pressed tight so I don't accidentally say that part aloud. I can't let Brant know about that yet.

His breath stops for a fraction of a second, and he's probably doing his best to not laugh at me. The insane girl who invited her boyfriend and the teen girl, who somehow snuck into her life, to the house where she grew up so her dead dad can meet them. So Dad can understand why I'm doing what I'm doing.

To make things even less perfect, I'm crying now, because apparently I'm that girl too.

"That's why you have those books back on the shelves. And that painting."

That painting Dad was so proud of painting that he hung it front and center where everyone who came into the house could see it. I was thirteen-years-old and had just settled on the name Lily. I'll never forget how his eyes lit up when I told him, the way his scratchy beard felt on my face when he hugged me. I hated that beard so much. I thought it made him look like a hobo who spent years catching trains around the West. I'd give almost anything to feel it against my cheek right now.

Two weeks later, he practically dragged me out to the garage, where he had a stained blue sheet over what turned out to be this painting. "A lily for my Lily," he told me as he uncovered it. I called him a dork and rolled my eyes because if I didn't, tears would have poured from them instead. Mom had already left us at that point, so it was just the two of us. As much as I wanted to pretend he was just being a dorky dad, he was being the best dad ever. I hope he felt that in the hug I gave him.

"It's silly, I know."

Brant cups my face and swipes away my tears with his thumbs. "I'm honored you want him to meet me. Truly. It's not silly at all." He flicks the tip of my nose with a finger and a start of a laugh bursts from my lips.

When he brushes his lips across the tip of my nose and rests his head against mine, I close my eyes and try to not think of Dad or the burnt smell that set the smoke alarm off ten minutes ago or the conversation I have planned for after the game. I try to be in the moment. I try to be happy.

"Chloe?" Brant calls out.

"Got it ordered," she answers, still in the living room. "The card's back in your wallet. I ordered some cheesy garlic knots too. The app says twenty-seven more minutes."

I tilt my head back to look at him, but he darts his eyes away from mine. "What happened to mostly fine?"

He shrugs. Traitors. "Thanks, but that's not what I wanted. Come here, please."

The teen groans, but after a couple of seconds, I hear her feet shuffling across the floor. "What are we doing?"

"We're hugging Lily to remind her that we love her and that we don't care if she can't cook. Ow!" He jumps as I press a finger into his ribs. "And we're meeting her dad. Get in here."

I expect her to shake her head or tell us that we're being dumb or whatever it is fifteen-year-olds say about the weird adults in their lives. I don't expect to feel her arm go around my back as she joins our embrace. "Hey, Lily's dad," she says.

"Lucas," I whisper.

"Lucas," she says. "Lily told me you were good, and I can tell, because she is too. So thanks, and good to meet you."

He was so good. I hope he forgives me for this. I hope they all do.

CHAPTER 61

KNOTS

BRANT

I knew this would be hard. Watching the team—my team—on television instead of being on the ice would have torn at my insides no matter what. But watching them lose by four goals against a weak Edmonton team? My stomach is knotted without anyway to untie it.

To make it worse, every time I try to guide Lily onto my lap, she pulls away. This is the first night I've had with her in almost a week, but she's barely touched me from the time we sat down together. Whatever's going on hasn't stopped her from looking at me, though. Every time she thinks I won't notice her, I feel her eyes move to me.

"This hurts," I moan when it's finally over. The television announcers are doing their best to make the recap of the game sound like anything other than the complete and utter shitshow it was, but even they're struggling. The worst part is wondering how it would be if I were out there on the ice instead of Gordo. He's not a bad goaltender. In the minors, he was having a great year, but he's not on the same level as Milo or me. Add in the nerves of being thrust into the League before he's ready, and even a team like the Edmonton Turbines suddenly looks like a group of all-stars.

"Hurts so much," Lily whispers, and this time when I look at her, I see the tears pooling on her lower eyelid.

I force a chuckle. "It's not that bad. I can't wait to tease Gordo and tell him he was so awful he made my girlfriend cry. At least you have me here to comfort you, right?" I wink and reach for her hand.

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