Page 141 of Hot for the Hockey Player
She picked up the honkin‘ bowl that I spent hours painting mandalas on.After doing all the different arts and crafts on the island, I took to pottery the most.And Hugh and I became good friends.He taught me how to throw clay on the wheel, and while I first started with smaller bowls and mugs, I eventually made something bigger—this salad bowl—that I didn’t want to crush into a glob again.
I still enjoyed whittling, and I went over to Man’s twice a week to carve, but I went there more for the company and conversation than I did because I was in love with making spoons.Sometimes Hugh, Man, and I got together and drank beer or masala chai on Man’s deck overlooking Duck Cove as Dandelion and her minions quacked like gossipy nuggets and disturbed our peace.Logan and I had become quite good friends as well, and sometimes—when he wasn’t working or hanging out with Reneé—he joined us.
“You painted this too?”she asked, gently turning the bowl over to study the bottom.“This must have taken hours.”
“Like twenty-six or something ridiculous, yeah.”
With a slack jaw, she glanced up at me.“Maverick.”
I shrugged.“It was relaxing … sort of.”
“It’s gorgeous.”She cupped my jaw and kissed me.“I love it.Thank you.”
“Well, you know, with no hockey money coming in, I have to resort to making your dishes now,” I teased.“We can’t afford to go to IKEA.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes.“Ha-ha.Even if your podcast wasn’t making money rain down on you, you’d still be fine.”
The front door opened, and Damon and Laurel came in, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed.They stowed their shoes, and Laurel removed her jacket.Damon kept his hoodie on.
“What have you two been up to?”Gabrielle asked them as they joined us in the kitchen.
“Sam rode over so we were out visiting her and Raven,” Laurel said, going to the sink to wash her hands.
“Did you make this, Mav?”Damon asked, pointing to the bowl.The kid was nearly as tall as me now, and his voice was extra cracky too.
“I did.”
“Cool.”He nodded.
When I returned to the island with Gabrielle last year, I made her a smaller bowl to replace the one that she dropped and cut her finger on, but this big, shallow salad bowl took some skills—and first, I had to learn them.
“How’d the court stuff go?”Laurel asked, heading to the kitchen to grab a yogurt from the fridge.
“Yogurts all around,” I said to her, joining her and grabbing four spoons from the cutlery drawer.
Damon and Gabrielle made their way into the kitchen too and Laurel passed us each a yogurt.
“I gave my submission.Opposing council spoke, I rebutted, now it’s up to the judge,” Gabrielle said with a shrug as she scooped some peach yogurt into her mouth.
It was kind of comical, but also so wonderful the four of us standing in the kitchen, leaning against counters, eating yogurt.We did it an awful lot, and I loved it.I could tell by the twinkle in Gabrielle’s eyes that she loved it too.
“It still just …” Laurel sighed, her spoon of blueberry yogurt hanging midair, “it still just confuses me that your dad wouldwantto do this to you.Aren’t parents supposed tolovetheir kids?”
As hard as I tried to become indifferent when it came to my father, it was damn near impossible.Every time I thought of him, every time I had to discuss him and the lawsuit with Gabrielle, my heart hurt.Because yeah, this man was supposed to love me.Support me.Regardless of whether I did whathewanted me to do, or I if followed my own passion.
That wasn’t how the Roy family operated.
At least the one I came from.
My new family, the family Ichose,operated like that though, and I was grateful that they welcomed me into their world with open arms.I was, however, expected to “earn my keep” as Gabrielle teased, and help out during the busy season of hosting tourists, picking grapes, and crushing.But I didn’t mind.I learned so much my first year and loved that I was a contributing member of the Westhaven Winery family.My presence also seemed to boost tourism a bit since a lot of people said they came to the island and vineyard specifically to meet me.While I didn’t want my celebrity status to overshadow the winery, if I could talk those people into buying a bottle—or a case of wine—then I figured my influencer status wouldn’t be considered such an inconvenience.Not that Gabrielle or her cousins ever indicated that it was.
“We do this a lot,” Laurel said, scraping the bottom of her yogurt cup.“Stand around eating yogurt in the kitchen.”
I snagged Gabrielle’s eyes, and they crinkled at the corner.
“I like it,” I said matter-of-factly before scooping the last bit of my strawberry-kiwi into my mouth.“A family that stands in the kitchen eating yogurt together, stays together.”
The kids both snorted and rinsed out their cups before putting them in the recycling.I took Gabrielle’s from her and did the same with ours.
