Page 36 of Goalie Secrets

“We brought a salad,” Vanya offers.

“Thank you. Do you mind bringing it into the kitchen?” I lift my full hands.

“I’ll top us up for drinks,” Dexter says while freeing my hands of the wine. “Anyone want a beer instead?” he adds.

I lead Vanya into the kitchen where she puts the salad down on the last free section of the counter.

“Great place,” she states, looking around. Although it’s the same midcentury, no-frills architecture as all the houses on the street, I’ve made renovations. My childhood home is updated with the best appliances money can buy and sleek, built-in storage spaces that maximize square footage.

“Thanks. I’m glad you could make it at short notice. Your friend seems fun.”

“Ashley’s a blast.”

“How long is she staying?”

“Four days. We’ll make a long weekend out of it.”

“Good that you’re taking time off. You work too hard.”

“I’ll come in for some early appointments, since Ashley will sleep in till noon.”

“Oh, good!” Gordon says, creeping up from behind me. “I have a nine a.m. with you on Saturday.”

I elbow him back. “She deserves a weekend, too, you know.”

“Fromyou, maybe. But I’m her favorite Mavericks patient. Isn’t that right, Vanya?”

“I don’t play favorites,” Vanya states.

“She won’t admit to favorites, but Vanya is partial to goaltenders,” Ashley says from across the room with a smirk.

I’m entertained by Vanya’s flush, spreading from her chest to her cheeks.

“Guess our secret is out, huh, doc?” I tease.

“You wish,” she answers haughtily in a tone that sounds more like a dare than a rebuttal.

By the time we pile our plates and settle in our seats, we’re all ready to dive in. Between enthusiastic bites, there’s talk of holiday plans and hockey stats. Ashley is getting tips on shopping districts from Sabrina. The boys yap about their cars and the fishing trip Dexter is planning for next summer. Rose is giving Vanya the gossip on everyone who watches Musical Mondays at the Drexel. The whole time, I’m stealing glimpses of Vanya from across the table, the subtle lighting catching the edges of her lashes and the sheen on her lips.

“Jeremy, did you hear me?”

The voice comes from my left, where Rose is sitting. By the time I tilt my body to face her, she is already shifting her eyes between me and Vanya. Whatever she finds makes her smirk.

“Sorry, Rose. Dexter talking about his fishing boat was distracting.”

Randi, sitting on the other side of me, snorts like a farm animal. “That was ten minutes ago.”

I kick him under the table before speaking. “You were asking?”

“About your mom. Is she coming to visit any time soon? Not that I blame her for staying in Arizona as the winter approaches. Is she still busy with the nonprofit?”

I nod. Three years ago, my mother moved to Tucson. After struggling to raise me as a working single mother—my father was a useless jerk from the beginning—Christina Lopez could have retired comfortably. Instead, she took a job with Frontera Care, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting migrants at the US-Mexico border. Her official title is Humanitarian Support Coordinator, but she wears many hats.

“Busier than ever.”

“What nonprofit?” Vanya asks.

Rose jumps to answer before I can. “Frontera Care helps migrants with translation services and access to humanitarian care. She’s incredible,” Rose praises.