Page 76 of Trade Deadline

“Huh?” I wonder as the elevator stops on my brother's floor.

I groan at the sound of my mom’s voice filtering through the doors before they slide open to reveal my parents.

My mom’s eyes light up when she sees me, then flick to Alex. Her hand flies to her mouth, and next thing I know she’s jumping her way into the elevator like a happy kangaroo.

“Please don’t jump in the elevator, Nicola.” My dad grumbles, holding onto the bar. He looks a little green when he greets me. “Hey, kid.”

Alex rolls his lips together; his eyes are comically wide as my mom throws her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“ALEX! I’m so happy to meet you! SO happy!” She squeals.

His hand squeezes mine. I should have warned him that her mouthing off at the officials is just a snippet of how wild she can be.

“Mom, can you not be so embarrassing?”

Her head whips toward me, glaring as she points an accusatory finger. “Why didn’t you tell me we would be sitting next to the lovely Alex all night? Now I feel rude!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were flying in a day earlier? Maybe then I could have told you that you would meet Alex.” I cock my head to the side in challenge.

She purses her lips, knowing I have a point.

“Tough game last night.” My dad breaks the mother-son glare off, color coming back to his face now that my mom has stopped bouncing.

“Yeah, it’s always shit against Jersey. I don’t know what their issue is.”

“Jealousy.” My dad nods confidently. “Their offensive line is weak, and their D? Pfft. Their goalie couldn’t catch snow in a blizzard.”

Alex chuckles nervously next to me.

“Mom, Dad, I would like you to meet Alex.” I turn to him. “Alex, this is my mom and dad, Nicola and Graham.”

He holds his hand out to my dad. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“None of that sir bullshit, I’m not seventy.” He shakes Alex’s hand.

Alex turns to my mom next, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma—”

She points a red-painted nail at him as the elevator doors open. “Don’t you dare ma’am me. If you ma’am me, I might have to start jumping again.”

“You won’t hear a ma’am from me.” He winks.

My mom wraps her arms around him, and over his shoulder, she mouths, “I like him.”

Me too, Mom, me too.

Twenty-Three

Blaine

We’reon fucking fire tonight.

Montreal doesn’t know what hit them. Their goalie must have holes in his pads because his five hole is wider than the Grand Canyon.

Leaning in for the face-off, I rest my stick against my thighs as I wait for the Montreal center to take his position. He’s been smacking his gums at me since the first period, probably thinking it’s going to put me off, but he has it all wrong.

It’s only spurring me on.

I give him my widest grin.

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