Page 90 of Icing the Play

“Oh, honey, have you been icing it? What sort of physical therapy are they doing for you?” Mom wrapped her arm around Myles’s waist.

“Your son makes sure I ice it.” Myles gave me a pointed look. “And I’ve got some of the best trainers in the NHL working with my team trainer, so I think I’m set, eh.”

She released Myles. “Can I see?—”

“No, Mom, he’s not in your trauma unit.” I huffed. You could take the nurse out of the ER, but not the ER out of the nurse.

“It’s fine, really, Caroline.” Myles brushed his palm over the back of his hair, chuckling.

Mom’s gaze snapped to Myles’s glass of wine on the counter. “Fine, then pour me a glass of wine, please. It’s a holiday and I’m on vacation.” With a smug grin, she sauntered into our kitchen. “Smells good in here, boys.”

Jogging in behind her, I snatched a wineglass from the cupboard and poured her wine. “Thanks, Mom. We got recipes for everything from our roommate, Ace.” I handed her the wine. “Dad, do you want wine or beer?” I was pretty sure he’d go for the?—

“Beer, please.” Turning in a circle, Dad scanned the room. “Pretty nice place you boys have here. Hard to believe a bunch of college athletes are living in it.”

Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, I said, “One of them isn’t in college anymore.” I snicked the can open and brought it to Dad.

Mom peeked into the gravy pot and then headed for the couch, taking a seat at one end.

Myles opened the oven and checked the turkey. “And Cooper cleaned the place before you came over.” He snickered.

“Yeah, but we’re generally clean.” I strode to the coffee table. “Have a seat. I’ll put the game on.” Mom loved football, too. How could she not?

The Giants versus the Cowboys game filled the screen.

“The Bears are next. When is dinner, Myles? We should eat before that game comes on.” Dad dropped into the corner of the sectional, setting his big hands on his thighs. “The Bears are going to wreck the Lions and I’m not missing a second of it.”

“Don’t you worry, Jim. I’ll have it ready within the hour.” Myles pulled the turkey out of the oven and set the roasting pan on the stovetop.

“Babe, you should have let me do that. Your knee…” I paced between Myles and my parents, my pulse picking up speed. Shit, this was a little hectic. “Myles, what can I do?”

“We have to wait for the bird to rest.” He peeked under a sheet of aluminum foil covering the turkey breast. “I don’t know why, but Ace said we should do that.”

“Because it allows the juices to flow and makes the meat tender and moist.” Mom sipped her wine and giggled.

“Mom.” I cringed. “Don’t say that word.” She was fucking with me now.

Shaking his head, Myles said, “I like your parents a lot. They’re so cool in person.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Let’s let everything sit for a little while and go talk with them.”

“Sure.” I grabbed his hand, led him to my old couch, and dropped in.

After watchingDad coach the game from the comfort of our couch and listening to Mom tell embarrassing stories of my childhood to Myles, which he ate up, we served the Thanksgiving meal.

We sat at the table and passed plates of food around, Dad making a mountain of turkey, mashed potatoes and dressing on his plate. “You play again next week?” Dad asked.

“I do. My agent is seeing if the scout that was interested in me can come to the game next weekend. It’s at home.” Myles peeked at me and cut into his turkey. “The scout is checking out a University of Arizona player in Tucson on Friday, so it makes sense.”

“So, the scout might watch your game on Saturday?” I furrowed my brows. Fuck, and I had an away game.

“That’s what I’ve been told.” He ate his turkey and then sipped some wine. “Jett really knows his wines. This goes so well with the turkey.”

“It sure does.” Mom beamed at Myles. “Who is Jett?” She raised her brows as she drank some wine.

“Jett is an NHL player for the Coyotes. He’s dating a guy Myles played with in college. He’s from SoCal. This wine is from a winery close to where he grew up.” I held my wine glass and spun the crimson liquid. We had so many cool friends. Merging a hockey family and a football family was great.

“Son, you’ve really done well since coming here. I’m proud of you.” Dad patted my forearm, resting next to my plate.

“Thanks, Dad.” I shot a look at Myles, warmth swirling in my chest. “Finding Myles again was key.”

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