Page 45 of The Parent Playbook
“What’re you doing here, bud?” I ask as I approach, keeping my voice light but curious.
“Well, yesterday was rough with Mom and all, so I wanted to come and apologize.”
“It takes a real man to speak when he’s made a mistake.” I give him two thumbs up. “Well done, big guy. Apology accepted.”
He gives me a sheepish grin, and I notice he’s hiding something behind his back. With a bit of a flourish, he brings it around—a hockey stick, older and a bit worn. “I, uh, I’ve always wanted to try playing, you know? But I was kinda afraid to ask before.” He scuffs his shoe against the ground. “I was wondering if maybe, since your practice is over, if you might have a minute or two …”
I can’t help but feel a rush of warmth for the kid. Here he is, stepping out of his comfort zone, reaching out. “Hey, you never have to be afraid of asking me anything, especially when it comes to hockey.” I ruffle his hair. “You want to learn a few things now?”
His face lights up. “Really? You would?”
“Absolutely.” I lead him toward the ice. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
As we step onto the chilled surface, Andy grips the stick a little nervously. “Thanks, Scotty,” he says, his voice earnest. “You’re a good guy, you know that?”
Hearing those simple words, something tugs at my heart. I nod with a quick smile as I set up a puck for him. “Let’s start with some basics, champ.”
CHAPTER 19
ANGEL
This morning feels like an obstacle course designed by a sadist with a sense of humor only Edgar the goat could appreciate. I distractedly pour Oat O’s into my bowl until they spill over the rim, creating a crunchy yellow moat on my countertop. The irony isn’t lost on me—overextending seems to be the theme of my life.
With a sigh, I pick up my coffee mug, a relic from a second-grade Mother’s Day gift, and take a sip that’s way too eager. My tongue sears with the heat, and I curse under my breath, setting the mug down with more force than necessary. The universe clearly hasn’t had its coffee yet either.
As I shuffle toward the sink, a sharp pain shoots up my foot. “Edgar!” I hiss, looking down to see one of his “treasures”—a small, suspiciously sticky object that has no business inside a human dwelling. Andy must have left the back door open again, and that goat never understood that houses are for humans. I kick the thing aside, mentally addingclean the floorto my ever-growing to-do list.
Clearing up the Oat O’s disaster, I spot a note from Andy, weighed down by the salt shaker. It reads, “Important missionbefore school. See you at the game! Can we watch with Lil’?” His handwriting is all enthusiastic loops and whirls, the kind that suggests he’s plotting more than attending a simple hockey game.
I lean against the counter, folding the note. Andy and his “important missions” often involve more scheming than a Bond villain. And now he’s roped Lily into his plans. For three days straight, he’s taken off for destinations unknown, and the last thing I need is Scotty thinking I’m running a junior espionage ring out of the ranch.
Scotty.
Nope, not going there, not now. Today is all about Game One of the Ice Breakers, since their success would mean a lot for Happy Horizons. If every time I have a free moment I’m thinking about what almost happened, didn’t, and then became a middle school drama with Scotty, I’m never going to live to tell the story.
I pick up my now tolerably drinkable coffee, take a cautious sip, and commit. It’s game day and I’ve got a ranch to run, a son to corral, and a team to cheer on.
And it’s not even seven in the morning yet.
The sharp ring of the doorbell makes me jump out of my skin. Grumbling about the injustice of early morning visitors, I stumble to the door, pulling it open to find my cousin Harlow grinning like she’s discovered coffee beans that don’t stain teeth.
“Surprise!” she chirps. “Given your new celebrity status, I thought a visit to the ranch was overdue.”
“This early in the morning?”
“I thought all farm folk were up at the crack of dawn?”
She’s not wrong, I’m just barely getting by these days with a minimum amount of sleep. I may feel like a zombie, but Harlow’s presence fills the space. “You know that it’s always a pleasure, cuz, but you’re still in Maple Falls? I thought you’d be getting out of Dodge as soon as you could.”
She breezes past me into the kitchen, setting down her bag and heading straight for the coffee pot like it’s her home, too. “I really needed a little escape, and the getaway I won made it worth my time to stay.”
I narrow my eyes. “So you’re taking an extended getaway … still alone?”
“Mostly.” She tops up her coffee and avoids my eyes. “Hanging with a friend, too.”
“Oh, really?” I pour myself another coffee, leaning against the counter, eyebrow raised in mock suspicion. “This friend wouldn’t happen to be more than just a ‘friend,’ would he?”
Harlow rolls her eyes. “We’re friends, Angel. Not everyone operates at soap-opera levels of drama.”
