Page 71 of The Legend Next Door
“I’m glad it’s you, Jelly.”
When I release him, he successfully negotiates the gate lever and turns left to head home. I watch as he pauses under the streetlight to run a hand through his hair, mussing it up before it settles into perfect disorder.
He turns to me and raises two fingers to his brow in something resembling a salute.
“Get some sleep, Captain,” he says. His eyes add, “You’re going to need it.”
37
Jeremiah Blake
“Isthelittlemanhome yet?”
I’m slightly out of breath, courtesy of my hurry to get here. I only fell into a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning and had a hard time waking up, so I’m at Ben’s later than usual, and I’m worried I’ve missed Luca’s arrival.
“Not yet. Amy texted to say they’d be here in a few minutes.”
No sooner has he uttered the words than Amy’s SUV comes hunkering around the bend, slowing as it turns onto Thickwood Drive.
Ben’s on his feet right away and Luca is nothing more than a streak of blurred color as he makes his way out of the vehicle and throws himself into Ben’s arms. As soon as he gets to him, he leaps up and wraps his arms and legs around him like a monkey. Ben’s eyes close as he cradles his son to his chest, enveloping him in strong arms and big hands. “Missed you,” he whispers. “Missed you so much.”
Luca clings to him tightly for a few seconds and then spots me on the swing.
“Dad!” he exclaims. “Put me down. I’m big.”
Ben chuckles and sets him down on his feet.
Luca hotfoots it over to me and, after a quick hug, says, “Are you coming with us to the rink, Jelly?”
“Yeah,” says Ben, “you should come, Jelly. Camp starts next week, but the organizers said we could come by today to check out the facility and get some ice time.”
“O-okay,” I say.
I mean, sure. Why not. I love hockey. I’ve been to a game, and I had a great time. I’d love to see the facility.
“I’ll get the gear you need,” says Ben, looking down at my feet. “My skates won’t fit you, but we can rent some for you.”
Wait. What now?
I follow at pace as Ben heads upstairs and begins sorting through various boxes in one of the guest rooms.
“Um, excuse me, Ben, just checking what you meant by getting gear for me because I already have a Blackeyes cap, a scarf, and one of those big hand things, so I think I’m all set.”
Ben straightens, a hockey jersey in one hand and ominous-looking safety equipment in the other. Best I can tell, they’re the pads hockey players put on their knees or elbows to stop them from skinning themselves when they fall.
“You can skate, right?” he asks.
“Of course.” I shake my head as though it’s a ridiculous question. “I mean, I haven’t skated for, um, about ten years, but—”
“Perfect,” says Ben. “It’s like riding a bike.”
I watch as he pulls out more and more safety equipment. He moves quickly, with a strong air ofI know what I’m doing.
That makes one of us.
He stacks a whole lot of things into a neat pile. Seriously, there are so many things. Gloves. A neck guard. Shin pads, shoulder pads, a chest protector.
He’s saying things like, “This goes under that, and that goes over this.”
