Page 43 of Absolutely Pucked
“She’s probably just worried. Moms don’t like when their kids run off,” I told her. “I used to run off, and I’d get in so much trouble.”
She grinned. “Me too.”
With a small laugh, I stood back up and glanced out through the front glass doors, but I couldn’t see a frantic parent searching the parking lot. Yet. There were only a couple of shops in this strip though, so I doubted it would be hard to find her.
“Why don’t we walk next door and see if we can find her.”
She stuck out her hand, and after a second of hesitation, I took it. “Mmkay. She’s nice. She has curly hair.”
That was actually helpful. “I can work with that.” I had never done this before, of course. I’d guided Tucker around his hospital room a little and outside along the garden path, but he’d been in a wheelchair, so it was nothing like this.
She seemed entirely unafraid and unbothered though, so I let her take the lead as I headed past the doors and toward the craft store a few hundred feet away. Between one step and the next, a question began to burn in my chest, and though I knew I had no right to ask it, I couldn’t help myself.
“Is Coach T’s name Tucker?”
“Yeah. You have the same voice. Do you know him?”
Fuck. “We’ve met before.” Seemed a safe half-truth. “He’s your coach?”
“Mhm. He teaches me to skate. I wanted to do hockey like the other kids, but my mom doesn’t like it. But he’s not my coach now. He got another job, so Coach Jonah took over and he’s nice and he’s funny but he doesn’t give the same kind of hugs like Coach T. My mom said it’s okay to be sad.”
“It’s definitely okay to be sad anytime you need to be.”
“Did your mom teach you that?” she asked me as we turned toward the entrance of the craft store.
I felt a dark wave rising in my chest. It was such an ugly feeling every time I thought about my parents. “Ah. No, she didn’t teach me that. I learned it as I grew up. It’s better to learn these things when you’re a kid.”
“Regan?” A familiar voice had me freezing in my tracks, and I turned slowly to see Ford rushing up to us, leaning heavily on his walking cane. He looked confused and worried. “What is happening right now?”
Regan’s face brightened. “Ford!” She let me go and flung herself in his direction, and he caught her like he was expecting the rush hug. “This is my friend Mr. E.”
‘Mr. E?’ he mouthed.
“My name is Ian,” I said, stressing the pronunciation.
Ford snorted and rolled his eyes as he set her back down. “Right. Cool. So…what’s happening? Regan, pumpkin, where’s your mom?”
“I don’t know. I wanted ice cream, and I got lost.”
He sighed. “Ah. Like the time you left the rink because you thought you heard a circus across the street, and we almost had to get the police helicopter to search for you.”
She blushed but grinned and shrugged. “I like the circus.”
“And ice cream,” Ford said. “Your mom is going to murder you.”
“Too damn right I am!” came a half-hysterical voice as a tall woman with long, curly black hair, light brown skin, and wide, frantic eyes burst out of the craft store. “Child, I am too young to be worrying about my heart.” She had Regan in her arms in half a second and squeezed her tightly before turning back to us. “Ford. And…random man who looks like?—”
“I’m Ian,” I said quickly, glancing over at Ford in panic. Fuck, this was not going to work. I was going to get busted immediately.
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t call me on it again. “What happened?”
“Ice cream,” Regan said, clinging to her mom.
“She said she heard the ice cream truck,” I clarified, then stuck out my hand. “Sorry. I work at the supermarket next door. She came up to the service counter to ask for help.”
“Well, thank God she learned something from our safety practice,” she said, giving me a quick handshake.
Regan wrinkled her nose and grinned, her cheek resting on her mom’s shoulder. “Mmkay.”
