Page 44 of Speed

I smiled, dropped my bags, and walked over to him.

“This is incredible,” I said, leaning over the hefty wooden slab coated with goodies to steal a kiss. He leaned into it, soft lips parting just a bit as I licked into his mouth. He tasted of spicy lunchmeats. My stomach snarled. Brody leaned back to break the kiss; his hazel eyes tender. “You’re incredible. Thanks for this. I’m kind of hungry.”

“Let’s sit,” he said, then carried the board to the living room area, placing it on the coffee table as I stepped over my bags. “You’re limping.”

“Meh, it’s nothing. Blocked a shot in that Toronto game. Left a mark.” I toed off my shoes, gimped to the sofa, and fell back into it with a sigh.

“Let me see it,” he said as he sat beside me. I rolled my eyes but bent over to roll up my pant leg. “Jesus, that needs ice. Can you take some aspirin?”

“A few ibuprofen is good. Man, hey, no,” I called as he shot to his feet. “Honestly, this is nothing. I don’t need to be waited on.”

“Yes, you do. I need to make up for… well, everything.”

“Brody, you have nothing to make up for.”

“Let me be gallant, okay?” The ask was genuine. I nodded. Off he went to find ice and some Advil while I snacked on meat. Mm, meat. “I’m going to snoop in your medicine cabinet,” he called down the short hall. I smiled around a mouthful of salami.

“M’okay,” I yelled back just as the doorbell rang. “Got it,” I shouted as I rose, stole a big black olive from the tray, and went to the door. My calf did hurt, but I’d had worse. Hockey was a rough mistress. I peeked through the peephole. Pops stood on the other side, peering up and down the hallway as if expecting old Mrs. Meeler from next door to leap out and shoot a puck at his head. Well shit. I hadn’t planned on introducing Brody to my family quite yet. Pops could be a lot. Still, here we were. I swallowed and opened the door. A huge box sat between me and my adoptive father.

“Ah, you are home. Good. I have need of good Swedish eyeballs and your dad is not feeling good for reading. His eyes are goopy. The doctor says he has icky virus. I did not get the icky eyes, so I think my getting a flu jab was good.”

“Pops. What is this?” I tapped the cardboard box from Ikea.

He sniffled, then smiled. “Is big present for Mittens for fourth birthday. Is big white cat house with many scratching poles and special hiding box for getting away from noisy slobber dogs. We put together. I take home in truck. Hide from Mittens in the garage.”

“Oh, well, Pops, I was kind of?—”

“Okay, I found the ibuprofen right off and didn’t poke around looking at anything else. The ice was easy to find as it was in the free—oh, hey.”

Brody hit the brakes so hard it was a wonder his socks didn’t smoke. He reverted from my Brody to the Brody the world saw. The transformation was astounding.

“This is awkward,” I mumbled, dragging the box through the doorway to allow my father to enter. Pops strolled in, a towering man who filled the room with his presence. “Well, I guess we should do this.” I shoved the box aside, pulled out my best good son smile, and introduced the two men. “Pops, this is Brody Vance.”

“I am knowing him.” He seemed to be a few ticks ahead of me. His gray eyes darted from Brody, in his apron holding an ice pack and a bottle of Advil, to me. “Is this the man that is making for running from you in Atlanta?”

“Uhm…” I replied. “Yes, but we’re good now.”

Pops’ dark eyebrows tangled. “Explains just how good?” He folded his arms over his Railers Alumni Game sweatshirt, sniffled, and waited.

“Mr. Gunnarsson,” Brody interjected. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I am Lyamin, not Gunnarsson. Gunnarsson is my husband. And you are racing man who peels off away from my son leaving him feeling many bad things and being confused. Do you think to play games with my little rabbit?”

Pops was pretty damned intimidating when he wanted to be. Generally, he was a teddy bear, but if you hurt those he loved, or dared to skate into his crease, all bets were off.

“Okay, Pops, no need to be surly. Or use the rabbit name,” I mumbled to the side. “We were just about to sit down and talk about things.”

“I never meant to cause your son any upset, Mr. Lyamin. I’m dealing with a lot, which is no excuse whatsoever for agreeing to meet someone, then dashing off like a frightened mongrel.” Brody placed the ice and ibuprofen bottle in my hand. “I’m here today to talk things over with him. I have… there are some things that we need to discuss, clear the air, and work on moving forward.”

Pops took a step closer, bent down. “I am watching you most very close.” Pops made the two-finger point at Brody. “My children are my most special gifts from the angels. I do not like people making them sad and unsure of themselves. You will walk a very skinny line over a pit of hungry sharks with umbrellas.”

“The sharks have umbrellas?” I asked and got a dry look from Pops, who then returned his full attention to Brody.

“The sharks have no umbrellas, the man on the wire has umbrella for making balance good. The man, who is Brody Vance, is tippy-toeing on high wire over vat. I warn you as maybe a big shark in tank, who does not have umbrella but has big teeth and knows people.”

“Pops…” I limped closer. “Let’s not bring up the people that you know.”

“I want for him to know that I know people. I also know other things, but for him is knowing that I know the people. People who are not liking famous man with many women notched on bed posts to be making his son feel like dog shit on bottom of Gucci loafers.”

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