Page 15 of Goalie Lessons

I’m just glad I didn’t throw up.

“You okay, man?” Callum asks, eyeing me carefully. Callum and Luca—and the rest of the Frost roster—are the nicest guys I’ve met. Especially for hockey players. But I still get the sense that Callum isn’t ready to jump into talking about my feelings.

“Yeah,” I roll my shoulders and clench my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. They’re just little girls—how bad can it be?

The Milwaukee Airport is by no means the largest I’ve been to. The crowds are mild, and we don’t have to fight to get through. Compared to O’Hare or Denver, it’s low key, easy to navigate, and we manage to find the drop-off point for unaccompanied minors pretty easily.

When we turn the corner and start walking down the long hallway, I can already see two girls standing close to a desk. One is taller, her arms crossed, a sparkling purple backpack on her shoulders. There’s a beaded necklace around her neck and her hair pushed back in a stiff headband. The other is shorter, huddled right next to her sister, clutching a large stuffed green bunny to her chest, her face half-buried in it.

And both of them look like Josh. Calliope—the older one—has a shorter cut, hair swinging just above her shoulders in glossy waves. She just turned thirteen and has that look about her. A kid stuck between baby and adult, not sure how to hold herself, but filled with rage.

Athena is six years old and looks like a strong gust of wind could carry her straight away. Her arms and legs are so skinny, her shaking hands giving her the presence of a little chihuahua scared of everything around her. Her hair is much longer, and hangs down her back, thin, and a little wispy at the edges.

It’s not just close—their hair is theexactsame color as Josh’s, and it socks me in the stomach with missing him. Logically, I should have known that his daughters would look like him, but it hadn’t even occurred to me how it would make me feel to be face-to-face with them. To be staring at them and thinking of their dad.

Thinking of the day he first noticed I was having an anxiety attack. All the times he’d wordlessly hand me a bottle of water. The smile on his face the last time I saw him, the way he’d held Calliope in the crook of his elbow and tilted her up likeLook, see?

For a second, I expect him to come walking around the corner, a grin on his face, hands in the air, wearing agotchaexpression.

“You should have seen your face!”

But Josh isn’t here, and he wouldn’t joke about something like that.

The first person to see Callum and me is the attendant at the desk. She looks up, her eyes sweeping over us, up and down. Then she moves around the side of the desk to stand in front of the girls, plastering a customer-service smile on her face.

“Hello,” she says sweetly, but there’s a hint of menace in it. “Name?”

“Oh,” I falter for a moment, clear my throat, and say, “Grayson O’Connor.”

Now the girls have turned and are looking at us. Calliope’s eyes dart between Callum and me, sharp and unhappy. Athena looks like she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Can I see some identification?” the attendant asks, tone chipper. It takes me a moment to dig into my pocket and pull out my wallet. If she sees the NHL card in the other sleeve, she doesn’t seem to care.

After a second, she returns to the desk. “I’ll need you to fill out these papers.”

“Hey, girls,” I manage to them, picking up a pen. “Just give me a second and we’ll be on our way.”

When I turn to fill out the forms, I hear Callum step toward them and start to speak.

“Hey, I’m Callum, Grayson’s friend. Are you guys excited to be in Milwaukee?”

“No,” Calliope says, tone clipped, her little voice mighty, and mightilypissed off. “We want to go back to Colorado. With Aunt Kayla.”

Callum seems at a loss for words, and my hands shake around the pen. I finish filling out the forms as quickly as I can, not wanting to leave him with the girls alone. The lawyer had mentioned behavioral issues. Maybe being rude to a stranger is the extent of them.

“Alright,” I slide the papers back over to the attendant, who scans them before nodding and stamping them one at a time, like she’s trying to delay this as long as possible. Finally, she shuffles them together.

“They’re all yours,” she says, before leaning around me. “Have a great day, girls!”

Athena lifts her hand in a weak gesture, but Calliope doesn’t pay any attention to the attendant at all, instead glaring straight at Callum, who looks like he might melt away from the intensity of her glare.

“Alright,” I say again, nervously, turning to look at them. Athena avoids my eyes, and Calliope stares up at me defiantly. “I guess we’ll…go home now.”

“I’dloveto go home,” Calliope says, her brows drawn down, her hand outstretched and resting on the handle of a pink suitcase. “But that’s not where we’re going. We’re going to your house, aren’t we?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” I say, swallowing. “I’m sorry. I wish you could go home too—”

Calliope rolls her eyes, turning and starting to drag her suitcase away. “Save it, we’ve heard it all. Come on, Thena.”

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