Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,34

a bit of notice to book a flight.”

“I will. Okay, take care Katy.”

“You take care, too, Dad. Love you.”

Then I text Ryan to ask him to let me know his plans about going home. I add, What do you think about Dad having a girlfriend?

As usual, his reply comes hours later. It’s cool.

Also as usual, the minimal words required. I sigh. We all have good relationships and grew even closer after Mom died, so I know it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to us. It’s just him and his busy schedule.

Soledad and I go out Friday night to see a new Broadway play, A Life of Truth and Lies. We both love it, and I leave the theater feeling uplifted. We walk a few blocks down Seventh Avenue to go to a thirtieth-floor rooftop cocktail lounge. The drinks are super expensive, but the spectacular, sparkly view of the city is worth it and it’s fun spending time with her yakking about all kinds of things.

I’d love to talk more about Hunter, but tonight I keep my thoughts and mixed-up feelings to myself.

11

Hunter

I don’t know why I’m doing this, other than the fact that I have nothing else to do.

Kate told me to go home to Calgary, and I will at some point, but right now I want to be here. So I agree to go with Hakim to some kind of kids’ picnic thing in Central Park, which is a fundraiser for Langmore Children’s Hospital.

I like kids. And kids usually like me. So maybe it’ll be fun.

It’s Sunday afternoon, a bright, warm day in May. The park is green and shaded with the soft light unique to Central Park. Hakim and I find the event, already swarming with kids and parents and…oh sweet Jesus. Mascots.

I feel the blood drain out of my face. Sweat breaks out on my back and my feet stop moving.

Hakim jerks his head around. “What? What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” I swallow. I don’t tell people about my fear. So far, I’ve managed to avoid the Storm mascot at any events we’ve done and nobody’s noticed that I duck out when he’s around. “I sort of don’t feel well.”

He frowns. “Suck it up, buttercup. Come on.” He slaps my shoulder then gives me a shove along the path.

I eye the mascots across the field. My gut clenches. I’ll stay far away from them. Jesus.

I get involved with a game of golf frisbee with a bunch of kids. A few of them are hockey fans and are excited to meet me. I’m not a star like our team captain or our top scorer, but fans like me because I’m a physical player and I come through with the odd clutch goal.

I flick my wrist and send the plastic disc sailing, to land right in a basket. I pump my arms in the air and cheer. Then I help one little dude who doesn’t know how to throw a frisbee. We get it close enough to bounce off the edge of a basket. I high five him. “Super close, buddy!”

I look up to see a mascot approaching. It’s Mr. Met. Sweat breaks out under my Storm T-shirt. The urge to run is real.

I take my frisbee and move to another group of kids as Mr. Met jokes around with some of the others. Fuck. I swipe my hand across my forehead.

“I have to move on now,” I tell the kids a little while later. “You keep practicing, Mick, you’re going to be great at this sport.”

I hightail it across the grass to a food truck. I’m not even a little bit hungry, but I can hide out there for a while. I wonder if they have beer.

No such luck. But I grab a lemonade slushie and gulp some down. I survey the crowd. There are no mascots over at one crowd I see preparing for some other activity. So I walk over there and introduce myself. There are two guys who turn out to be baseball players, Gord Delman and Antonio Reyes. Their girlfriends are there too, Ellie and Nira, who are busy filling water balloons.

“We’re playing water balloon dodgeball!” a little girl tells me excitedly.

“We’re gonna get wet!” another kid yells.

I laugh. “I’m not gonna get wet. You won’t get me with one of those balloons.”

They all jeer me.

Of course, when the game starts, I make a show out of trying to dodge their balloons, letting them hit me. Soon my jeans and shirt are soaked