Page 65 of For Crosby

Sabrina

“So that’s what a power play is?” I said, dipping a tortilla chip into the spicy bowl of salsa we shared.

“Yup,” Crosby said, sipping his beer in the Mexican restaurant he’d picked. Apparently, Texans loved their Mexican food.

The colorful décor and soft mariachi music surrounding us proved to be the perfect balance for an otherwise difficult day for Crosby—at least, I assumed it was difficult. He hadn’t spoken a word about his time with his dad. After his visit, he returned to the car where I waited and kissed me long and hard. I was convinced he was trying to rid himself of the past and lose himself in the normalcy of what we’d been creating.

“Do you know what a hat trick is?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He smiled, but I could see he was trying not to make me feel stupid for asking what I assumed to be a ridiculous question. “Three goals in one game by a single player.”

“This hockey stuff isn’t so tough,” I said, popping another tortilla chip into my mouth.

“Says the girl who can’t skate.”

I laughed with my mouth full. “Can, too.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “You with a mouthful is a good look.”

I rolled my eyes as I swallowed the last of my bite. “Smooth.”

He laughed. “I thought you like it when Mr. Hockey makes an appearance?”

I did. But I still wanted to know how it went with his dad. “So—”

“It was fine,” Crosby said, cutting me off.

“I’m here if you wanna talk about it.”

“I know.”

My brows shot up. “Do you?”

Sadness clouded his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“Well, promise me you’ll at least talk to your mom about it in the morning.”

He nodded.

Our waiter approached with a tray piled high with food, interrupting our conversation and lighting up Crosby’s eyes.

The waiter placed the dish Crosby ordered for me in front of me.

“Looks good, right?” Crosby said, eagerly scooping up something that looked like a taco from his own dish as soon as the waiter placed it down.

“Sure. You gonna tell me what I should start with?”

He lifted the food in his hand. “The puffy taco.”

I picked up the puffy taco from my dish and examined it.

He laughed. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a puffy taco before.”

“I can’t believe how much it makes me want to laugh every time I hear you say ‘puffy taco.’”

He laughed before taking a big bite, eating nearly half of it.

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