Page 57 of The Parent Playbook
As I lie back down, pulling the sheets up to my chin, doubt creeps in. What if it changes nothing? What if I’m overstepping?
Or what if he realizes the error of his ways and decides to stay in Maple Falls forever and be the man of my dreams by my side every morning and every night?
I wish. Nothing I say could do that.
Tomorrow, one way or another, I’ll find the words. For now, I’ve got to catch some z’s or I’m going to be an inarticulate wreck.
That’s when I hear one loud bleat right outside my window.
“Go to sleep, Edgar.”
My car hums along the empty streets of Maple Falls, an old tune from the radio filling the space where Andy’s chatter usually does.
Once I’m pulled into the rink’s parking lot, I kill the engine and sit for a moment, gathering my thoughts—or trying to. I’m here on a mission. A mission to convince Scotty to stick to the ice, because heaven knows he belongs there more than anywhere else.
This isn’t about me. It isn’t about us. It isn’t.
The arena is already busy as I slip inside as the morning teampractice is finishing up. I edge along the corridor, peering into the rink, and … Well, I’ll be.
It’s Andy. Knocking around a puck. With Scotty.
How did I not see that coming?
I’m frozen like the ice, watching them. Andy hangs on Scotty’s every word, every demonstration. His admiration for Scotty is written all over his young face.
Scotty demonstrates a slapshot, his movements fluid and sure, while Andy watches, wide-eyed and absorbing every bit of wisdom like it’s gospel.
The scene is so domestic, so utterly heartwarming that it tightens something in my chest. I duck behind a pillar, not ready to interrupt. Not yet.
Watching Scotty with Andy, it’s like seeing a window to what could be, to whatshould beif life played fair.
He laughs at something Andy says, and it’s that full-bodied, sincere sound that reverberates right through the cold arena into my hiding spot. I feel a lump form in my throat, unbidden. How can this man be all coach one minute and all dad the next?
A pang of something bittersweet tightens in my chest as I watch them laugh together, a father-son moment that Andy has often missed.
It makes a woman think thoughts—dangerous, treacherous thoughts about blended families and hockey weekends. This is what Andy needs, what he deserves. I wipe a rogue tear that has no business being there and chastise myself for turning into one of those sentimental types I’ve always mocked. But as I watch the boys, a part of me molds into something new. Something that wants this. That wantshim.
I lean back against the cold pillar, letting the scene wash over me. The laughter, the instruction, the sheer joy of it all. It’s a beautiful sight, one that stirs up all sorts of ideas about futures I’ve never allowed myself to contemplate. But today, hidden behind this vending machine, I let myself dream a little.
I’ll let Scotty go. And I’ll tell him about why he needs to getback on the ice himself. But first, I need a minute. Just a minute to watch.
To see the life we could have had.
I take a deep breath, ready to step out of the shadows, ready to speak my piece … I think. Scotty looks up, spotting me. His smile is wide and welcoming, but my heart is stuck somewhere in my boots.
CHAPTER 24
SCOTTY
Angel’s words hit me like a puck to the gut.
“Scotty, you might not see it, but everyone else does. You belong on that ice, not coaching beside it.”
I lean against the boards, arms crossed, watching the Zamboni make its slow sweep across the ice, the machine smoothing over the scars of practice. As Angel talks, I find myself dissecting her words, turning them over like a well-used stick in my hands. She’s right about one thing—I do miss it.
Being out there, the feel of the ice under my skates, the quick give and take of passes, setting up the play … it’s a dance I’ve known all my life. And during those practices with the Ice Breakers, when I stepped in to demonstrate a drill or correct a formation, it wasn’t simply muscle memory; it was like waking up a part of my soul I thought I’d put to bed.
But there’s more to it than lacing up and hitting the ice again. Colorado, with its quiet life, the job at the hotel that doesn’t ask more of me than I’m willing to give. And Lily.
