Page 51 of The Overtime Kiss

“I don’t know. Do I?” he asks, curious, like a cat wanting to check out your new food offering but not sure he trusts you.

“You do now,” I say. Then I tell him what we’re going to do.

And in the rearview mirror, I see his jaw drop.

14

DICK CONTROL

Tyler

The Las Vegas forward is charging down the ice at Mach speed, and Lambert looms in the net, a beast protecting his lair.

But it’s my job, too, and I spot an opening. Right when the opponent lifts his stick to slam the puck, I time it perfectly, jamming mine in front of it, swatting it back the other way with a satisfying whiz across the ice. The puck whistles past center ice, landing on my brother’s stick. He races toward the Vegas net…

And delivers us a point.

I thrust my glove in the air. A block and an assist all at once. Thank you very much.

The forward curses at me. “Fucking asshole,” he mutters.

“Yes, yes, I am,” I say to him, flashing the Vegas Saber awhat are you gonna do about itgrin as I skate to the bench and hop over the boards.

After grabbing my water bottle, I chug as the next line jumps over.

Coach smacks me on the shoulder. “Keep that up.”

“I will, sir,” I say, meaning it. This game is exactly what I need to set the tone for the season: gritty, full throttle, leave it all on the ice.

When the game ends with another W, I head to the locker room, eager to do just that for the next eighty-one games. Right now, I’m ready to head back home and see my kids. They’re the reason I play all out.

The better I play, the better I can provide for them, and the last thing I want is to fail as a father. I witnessed that failure for myself growing up, and I won’t do it to my kids. Which is why I have something fun planned for Parker this weekend.

As we head down the Vegas arena corridor to board the bus to the airport, Rowan gives me a nod. “How’s everything back home?” It’s a rare moment when he’s not giving me hell.

“Pretty good,” I say as we walk.

“Nice. How are the kids doing?”

As if he’s summoned them, my phone trills and Parker’s photo lights up the screen—a shot of him triumphantly lifting a fork and digging into a plate of pancakes. I took it at a diner they love.

I show it to Rowan. “I should grab this.”

“Do it, man,” he says, waving me off. He’s the same way—always picks up for his daughter.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Dad! Did you know Betelgeuse is a red supergiant near the end of its life?”

I furrow my brow for a second, then figure it out. “It’s a star?”

“Yes! A reddish star in Orion. The planetarium had thecoolest exhibit on supergiants, and there was a light show and everything.”

Sabrina must have taken him. My chest warms, a mix of gratitude and something I don’t have a name for yet. Maybe appreciation for her effort? Her creativity? “Sabrina took you to the planetarium?” I ask, confirming.

“Yeah! It was super cool. They had a whole sky show with music, and we learned about supernovas—like the team you used to play on. Betelgeuse might turn into a supernova someday!”

“That’s pretty cool.”

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