Page 80 of Slots & Sticks
I remember the smell of sugar and lemons, and Vanessa’s voice telling her she should charge more. Coach had been there that day too, crouched beside her, fixing it after a gust of wind nearly tore it loose, telling her the same thing.
My heart is hammering so hard I have to look back at the road. I swear if I meet his eyes right now, he’ll see every single thing I’ve ever felt for her written across my face.
“You think so?” I ask. “I always thought they were pretty different.”
Coach studies me from the corner of his eye. “How so?”
I take a moment to formulate my answer. It helps that I have to focus on the traffic patterns as we merge onto a larger thoroughfare. “From what I remember, Delilah was an extrovert. She liked crowds and meeting new people. She had stage presence. Dot’s quieter and more private. She doesn’t trust people easily.”
“All true,” he agrees. “But they’re both stubborn. Once they make their minds up, whew, boy, there’s no changing them. They love fiercely. Although, Dot was always better at holding grudges. And she’s always been hard on herself.”
My mouth’s gone dry. He’s right there, a cane between his knees, and I’m about to ask him if I can marry his daughter. This man taught me how to tie my skates. What if he says no?
I don’t comment on the way Coach talked about them both in the present tense.
I force a swallow. The hum of the engine sounds too loud in my ears. I can see the curve of his scars in the half-light. I’ve never felt more exposed, more hopeful.
“If you know how I feel about Dot, then it should come as no surprise that… Well, I’d like to ask her to marry me. With your blessing, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes.
“Uh. Sorry, was that you repeating me, or…?”
“I’m giving you my blessing, Cam. I look forward to welcoming you to the family.”
“That’s it?” I glance at him for a split-second while we’re stopped at a red light.
“What, you want me to get out my rifle and threaten you? Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have one. I guess I could grab the hose like Cash…”
“I’m not complaining,” I assure him. “But I thought you might have some more questions for me. When I plan to propose, or where we’d live.”
I’ve been in love with his daughter since she was ten, and now he’s trusting me to love her for life.
“Eh, those are just details. You’ll sort them out.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching the city roll by. “Fuck the details.”
I laugh in surprise. “Is that so?”
It feels like a benediction, rough and unvarnished. My chest is too tight, my eyes sting, and I grip the wheel a little harder to keep myself steady.
“Yup. Life is short, and we’re never going to get as much time with the ones we love as we wish we had. Propose when you’re ready, and be good to each other. That’s all I ask.”
* * *
Renee, the team publicist for the Venom, meets us at the back of the arena with a scooter for Coach. It looks a bit like the kind they have in grocery stores, although sleeker and lighter.
“Oh, this isn’t necessary,” he protests, even as he leans on his cane. “Talk about overkill.”
“Would you be happier walking?” Renee asks. “It’s a hike, and the arena was built with full accessibility in mind.”
Coach grumbles about being able to get around under his own power, but as soon as his butt hits the scooter seat, he sighs. “You win. This is best. Thank you.”
“Let me know if you run into any issues,” Renee tells him. “Don’t think of it as complaining; think of it as helping the team avoid a potential lawsuit in the future.”
Coach winks at me. “And here I thought the Giovanettis were being altruistic.”
I laugh, albeit guiltily. Dante has a reputation, for sure, but I remember how kind he was to Dot when her dad was in the hospital. He’s not a hero, given how he’s responded to some crises, including the incident with Bowen and Vi last year, but he’s not a heartless villain, either.
Renee gets us through the tunnel and out to the ice. The second Coach rolls to the boards, the guys stop their drills. Helmets turn. Sticks tap the ice one by one until the whole arena echoes with the clatter—an improvised salute.
