Page 41 of Sporting Goods

“Eventually he couldn’t help himself to give me some pointers from outside the rink. Calling them from the sidelines while he pretended to clean.”

I was smiling.

He took a breath, and whatever his thought was, also brought a smile to his face. “Something about his comments and suggestions made me look into him. Like maybe he was a retired coach or something.” Logan pulled out his phone, searching for something then held it up to me.

“Martin Highwater. Defenseman for the Buffalo Gaters in 1966.”

My eyes bulged. “Wow. Hey, he was cute.”

Logan laughed. “Oh man, I’d love to tell him you said that but it’s our little secret that he used to play pro. Well, my sister knows but that’s it.”

I watched Marty with my kid. “Guess it’s no surprise he ended up back here.”

“It’s home to him.”

I glanced at him then turned away.

“What? You want to ask me something.” He raised a brow.

“Is it hard? To live here?”

“Not if you don’t care anymore…it’s not like I’m a stranger here—my sister’s lived here for years.”

I nodded.

“You wondering why I never went back?”

I shook my head slowly, innocently. Then caved. “Yes.”

Another sweet laugh. “It’s one of those things you don’t really know how to respond to, I guess. Nothing to go back to.”

I made a pouty face. “That’s sad. Also probably untrue. But so sad.”

“Yeah, well so was your cheap shot distracting me with that twirl.”

“I. Do. Not.Twirl.” I whacked him on the arm. “That was a spin. I spun.”

He rubbed his arm. “You also broke like seven hockey rules in the process.”

I shrugged. “It was only three.”

14

Tisch wasoff today and it kept me on edge. Because that was the kind of shit that worried me about her. None of her usual mockery and bossiness. That ‘No BS’ attitude nowhere in sight. These were the signs that typically let me know she was just fine. When she was present. With it. Alive.

Today it was the one-to-two-word responses I had once been far too familiar with. It shuddered me to think she was having a problem again.

What was worse was that there was no reason for it. None that made sense.

She slammed the register shut and stormed past me, heading into my office.

Scanning the front for customers first, I stopped her in her tracks with a tone I was sure she would remember too. “What’s going on Tisch?”

She froze but didn’t bother turning. “Just been a long week.”

“Tisch.”

“Back off me, okay?”

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