Page 45 of The Ex Puck Bunny
I say, “Cara’s notes indicate that they want social media trends, pizzazz, corn.”
“Do you know how dangerous it is while skating when the Zamboni misses kernels?”
Brow furrowed with confusion, I say, “The Lions’ fans didn’t throw corn cobs.”
“No, they threw underwear. And, I’m afraid I have a pair in my pant leg.”
I go still. “What?”
“For my entire shift, I’ve had a piece of laundry—could be a sock, a pair of underwear, who knows what—lodged in my pant leg thanks to a combination of how snug these pants are and static cling.”
My urge to help is strong but entirely uncertain, along with the laughter building inside. “Um, maybe visit the bathroom?”
“I haven’t had a chance all night.” Her shoulders drop as she exhales, exhausted.
“I can handle these salt and pepper shakers. You go take off your pants.” My cheeks instantly blaze. “That sounded wrong. I did not say that. Do not tell your brother I said that.”
As Heidi hurries off, I glance around to make sure he didn’t appear like a ghostly goon, ready to pound me.
Derek and I have been friends for most of our lives. Aftereverything that went down with Trey, the notion of any man entertaining anything except for ’til death do we part with his sister is totally off limits. Even that is questionable, with emphasis on the death part.
Plus, despite Heidi’s hockey player prejudice, which is somewhat understandable, she deserves a man who is kind, caring, steady, and present. Not to toot my own horn, but I feel confident in the first three. The last one trips me up. I’ll be traveling for games, making me often absent—like my father and, ultimately, my mother. I’ve broken the mold in so many ways, but I worry that’s where it ends. There were only so many coins in my pocket and I’ve spent them all.
Something small and soft hits me in the chest. I catch it before it drops to the floor which is still somehow sticky with soda and popcorn even though someone mopped. I’m holding a tiny pink sock with little sticky hearts on the bottom. Holding it up, I’ve never seen something so adorable.
Heidi says, “Thankfully, it was one of Bunny’s socks, all balled up.”
“Glad you still have your underwear on,” I blurt.
Heidi’s eyes widen and once more, I’m afraid her brother lurks nearby, but it’s just the two of us. Actually, we’re the last people at the pub.
She flicks off the lights except for one by the door.
“Another night at the Fish Bowl in the books.” Heidi dusts off her hands and locks up.
We step outside. As spring kicks out the last of the winter chill, the air is moist and slightly warm.
After being in the pub for the better part of the night, my voice sounds extra loud when I say, “You don’t usually work nights.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I need all the sleep I can get to keep up with a twenty-three-month-old.”
“That means Bunny’s birthday is soon.”
“She was born on Easter, but since it shifts around every year, it’s off by a few days.”
“You’re an amazing mom, Heidi.”
She leans against the building’s brick wall as if needing support to remain standing. “If you’re measuring me against my mom, I don’t even come close.”
“Give yourself some credit. But no, I’m measuring you against mine.” I realize that might sound offensive if she knew my mother, but it’s because they’re both single moms.
“I’ve never heard you talk about her. Figured you were raised by feral cats in a cornfield.”
I chuckle. “Close enough.”
Much like when we were in my truck on the ride back from the Ice Palace that first time, silence sits between us. It welcomes us to stay or go our separate ways. I’d prefer the former even though I know it could get me into a world of trouble with Heidi’s brother.
“Let me walk you to your car,” I say.
