Page 65 of Goalie Lessons

“And you’re okay with travel?” I swallow, wondering why I didn’t make a list beforehand, things I need for this position. Feeling my cheeks heat, I add, “I’m a professional athlete, and I’d like for the girls to come along when I’m out of town. Obviously, they’ll need someone with them while I’m playing. Other times, you can stay home with them.”

“I love to travel,” she says, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair away from her face. Once again, I’m struck with how this girl—woman?—seems so much younger than me, while our real age difference is one of a few years.

“What about hockey?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She laughs. “Honestly, I can learn to love anything for the kids I work with.”

For the next hour, we go over the details of the position—I need someone to help me with Athena and Callie. Get them ready in the mornings, pick them up from school in the afternoons.

Especially since I have a slew of away games coming up. I’d like her to start right away. Get to know them. My hope is that they’ll feel comfortable with her by the time they have to travel together.

I tell Savannah about the situation, them losing their parents. I tell her that the last babysitter did not last long. What I do not tell her is that a significant part of my motivation for this hire has to do with that fucking timer, always cutting off my time with Astrid.

A lingering doubt gnaws at the bottom of my stomach, telling me that I’m doing something wrong by wanting more time to myself. I try to push it away—I’ll still be spending plenty of time with the girls. I’ll still be there for them.

But even an extra hour with Astrid sounds like more than enough, and I need more practice time in the mornings, before the rest of the team gets there.

“Trust me,” Savannah says, laughing cheerfully. “Once you’ve dealt with French children who pretend not to know English for fun, you can manage anything. Besides, it sounds like they’re perfectly lovely, reacting to the situation rather appropriately, given how awful it is.”

At the end of the meeting, Savannah sticks her hand out for me to shake it again, and I officially have a nanny.

***

Callie is in a notably better mood after getting her homecoming dress, even with the integration of Savannah into our daily lives. For the next week, she brings up Ruby and Sloane occasionally, slyly casual, as though I might not notice how enamored she is with them. Savannah comes in the mornings to wake the girls up, make them breakfast, and get them to school on time, making it a lot easier for me to do early morning practice. Get back on the ice like I used to.

Athena asks to see Callie’s dress every night, and Callie obliges, opening the closet and pulling up the plastic cover so Athena can run her little fingers over the skirt,ooh-ingandaww-ing.

“When I’m big,” Athena says, “I want one just like it.”

“If you want,” Callie says, shrugging, “we could probably keep it for you.”

I watch the two of them and wonder if I’ll be here for Athena’s dress shopping days, too. Then, I wonder if Astrid will.

While they were gone, Athena and I stayed home, had fast food for lunch, playedMario Kart, ate leftover spaghetti for dinner, then settled in for a Disney movie marathon. Athena insisted I pop popcorn, then ate none of it. She lasted exactly half ofLittle Mermaid—just to the point where Ariel is eating in the castle with the prince, brushing her hair with the fork—before conking out on the couch, her little body going warm and loose.

For a while, I’d stared at the screen, planning on getting up and turning off the TV, but the movie sucked me in. In my head, I’d tell myself it was time to get up, carry Athena to bed and go to sleep myself. Then the next movie played, and I was watching a blonde girl wielding a frying pan before I fell asleep, warm from Athena beside me, lulled by the sound of her breathing.

And when I woke up, Astrid was there, smiling softly. The way she was looking at me…it was something I’d pay to see again.

But I haven’t seen her all week. This one is particularly brutal, with four away games Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Every time I’m on the ice, I find myself looking up at the box, waiting to see the woman who isn’t there. Savannah is perfect—the girls love her. Athena follows her around like a little puppy dog any time she’s over.

We play through each game, following our strategies. Coach Vic talks about flow and meshing, and weirdly, it’s exactly what we need to hear.

I stay at the goal and watch the players rotate, coming in and out, fighting for the puck and scoring. We keep good pressure, and as the week goes on, instead of falling apart, the team just gels together, getting smoother, faster.

During the school week, I video call with the girls. Athena tells me about the boy who is still causing trouble in her class, and Callie talks about how she and her friends are going out to eat before homecoming. Saturday morning, Savannah and the girls get on a flight and come to the Minneapolis game.

The Wild are aggressive, hands-on, and Luca and some of the other forwards get thrown around. When one of the Wild skates past and mutters something to Ethan Blackwood, Maverick tosses his gloves and goes after the guy, getting him across the face twice before Luca and Callum can drag him off.

I didn’t hear what was said, but I can guess. And I’d also guess that Maverick was well within his rights to knock the guy out.

The refs watch as it devolves into chaos, and I pull a few guys off of each other, wondering if Astrid is watching the game at home, and what she might say about the psychology of hockey and fighting. What she might say about “better coping mechanisms.”

We win by two, and for the first time since taking the ice, I look up to the box, realizing I haven’t waved to the girls this entire game.

But the girls aren’t at the window.

Astrid is. I catch her eye immediately, stomach flipping. Like finding a fifty-dollar bill in the pocket of an old coat, or the sun coming out when it was projected to be cloudy. A surprise that makes my heart squeeze and my mind replays this entire game, looking at it from her point of view.

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