Page 82 of The Kennedy Rule

four, if my dad can keep himself from getting too grumpy with Maria. I think she’d make a good match for him. She’s a tough Alaskan woman through and through. Truthfully, that’s why I hired her. Well, that and she has a grandson who plays peewee hockey, so my dad will have an excuse to go to games again. He needs it, especially now that he’s spending all his time on land.

Hockey has always been an excellent distraction. One that this area desperately needs. Which is why Connor and I have been talking about funding and running a junior camp up here next summer. With a little effort, we can attract some attention to these kids who know what it means to play with grit and toughness. The kids who play hockey up here have what it takes to get knocked down and get back up for no reason but the drive to keep going. They deserve a fair shot.

By the time I hear the El Camino coming back down the driveway, I have dinner waiting on the table. I’ve put some of the salmon aside for Bouchard when he comes to visit us next week. He loves my smoked salmon and he’s more than earned a few pounds of it as a thank you for all of his help and support to us.

“Well, how’d you do?” I ask Connor as he comes through the door.

“He did good,” my dad answers for him. “He’s a natural.”

Connor kisses me on the lips, then pulls away with a wicked grin. “We need to get one of those for Buffalo.”

I tip my head and smile at him. If he wants one, I’ll happily buy him two. “There’s plenty of room in the back for us to toss our gear.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for one,” my dad says, and cracks open a root beer.

I kiss Connor one more time, then gesture for us to take our seats at the table.

“What’s this?” Connor asks, reaching for the envelope with his name on it. His cheeks are flushed from the sun, which has brought out a smattering of freckles across his nose. Each night, as we lie in bed, I want to kiss all of them.

“A little gift for you,” I say, taking a sip of my root beer. Even though I’m confident in his response to what that envelope holds, my heart rate kicks up anyway. I just want to make him happy. I want him to know I’m in this with him until the end of our days. I want him to know that walking away from his father was the right decision, and that he’s strong for having done it. I want him to know that I will always have his back, both on and off the ice. I want him to know and remember that I love him now and forever and I’ll always choose him.

He opens it and his eyes go wide. He slowly lets out a breath.

“This is a big gift,”he says, then turns to look at me. His eyes are watery, and honestly, so are mine. If I looked, I’d bet my dad’s are too.

I reach around the table to ruffle his hair, letting the soft golden strands sift through my fingers. “The first of many,” I say, smiling at him. “Now let’s eat.”

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