Page 50 of The Parent Playbook
As the applause fades and the players reset for another drill, my gaze sticks to Lily, perched in the cold, empty stands.
My heart sinks. What’s she doing here? It’s the middle of a school day.
If there’s been another suspension …
The joy of that brief, shining moment on the ice turns sour, mixing with a surge of worry. The distance between the ice and the bleachers feels like miles as I skate over, my mind racing.
All the signs are there, and I wasn’t ready to see it—missing school, acting out, getting in trouble. It’s been tough on her,moving to Maple Falls, trying to fit into a new life that doesn’t fit her.
I pull off my helmet and climb the steps to where she sits, her school bag dumped beside her, her eyes big and worried when she sees the look on my face.
“Dad,” she starts, her voice small.
The rink suddenly feels colder, the echoing sounds of practice a dull roar in the background. “Why aren’t you in school?”
She squirms, chewing on her lip. “I … um, I need some advice.”
“Of course, tell me.”
“It’s—uh—awkward.”
“I can handle it.” Can I?
“It’s about woman stuff.”
“Oh.”Alert, alert! I can’t handlethat.“How about we find someone who can help with that.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
My thoughts scramble. I could ask Blair, but she’s fully overtaken with work and Lily isn’t that close to her, but …
Angel.
She’ll know how to handle whatever this is. She’s been a guiding force for Lily, more than she knows. As much as I want to be everything Lily needs, some things are out of my depth. And that’s okay. I need to be okay with it.
I pull out my phone, hesitating as I thumb through the contacts. Angel’s name pops up, and I feel that familiar kick in my chest.
I shove down the feelings. Now’s not the time for whatever’s been growing between us. Lily needs help, and I need to focus.
“Okay, sweetheart,” I say, putting an arm around her. “Let’s give Angel a call, yeah? She can help.”
Lily nods, relief washing over her features, and I step away to make the call. The ring feels like an eternity. When Angel picks up, her voice is a lifesaver.
“Angel, it’s Scotty. We have a bit of a situation. Lily needs some advice, and, well, it’s not really dad territory.”
There’s a pause, then a soft laugh on the other end that makes something in me ache. “Of course, Scotty. Put her on.”
I hand the phone to Lily, watching her take a deep breath before she starts talking. I step back, giving her privacy, my eyes tracing the ice below. A laugh breaks through Lily’s initial embarrassment as she chats with Angel. She lightens up, her shoulders relaxing. Angel’s doing that. She’s helping my kid when I can’t. Seeing the relief on her face makes the tough choices ahead feel even heavier.
“Thanks, Dad.” She hands the phone back to me. “It’s hard not having a lot of people to talk to, you know?”
I do. In times like this, I would have turned to Corrie. My heart sticks in my throat.
“I know, kiddo.”
“Thank goodness Angel is here. She gave me some real good advice, even if back home, there was everyone at the Dog’s Paw. Remember how Amelia let me dog sit her pug puppy, Max?”
The folks of the Dog’s Paw dog spa were like family. The closest we had, and I could count on them for anything. A lot of people couldn’t understand why a former hockey pro would change lifestyle so dramatically—but for me, that family feeling of a team was just the same at the Dog’s Paw as it ever was at the Denver Peaks. Sometimes more. Something about working with animals brings people together.
