Page 53

FIFTY-THREE

Jethro

Alas, I do not get a clean sheet in game three. We’re still playing great. Before the final buzzer, we’ve got five goals.

Unfortunately, Carolina has four. Two of them were lucky, one of them was a complete miscalculation on my part, and the final one was offsides and should have been disallowed. But the ref Clay screamed at didn’t see it our way.

Still, a win is a win, and I’m in the mood to celebrate. I text Clay after the post-game madness.

Come over. I’ll be home alone. Unless you think it’s too risky.

I’m in. I’ll wear a hoodie. Maybe that sounds kind of James Bond, but it pays to be careful.

James Bond didn’t wear hoodies. But if you’re really worried, I’ll leave a door open for you. Come in the back.

Oh baby.

!!!

:)

I’m drowsing when Clay arrives in my bedroom. “Is that you? Or am I being robbed.”

“Gonna rob you of those boxers.”

Apparently, we’re still capable of joking around like rookies, because he does, in fact, steal my boxers a moment later.

And then we stay up way past our bedtime.

Game four goes a little better for me. Carolina plays like they’re out of gas. By the middle of the third period, it’s 3-0 in our favor. Their coach calls a time out, and I skate over to the bench.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Clay is saying to the team. “Don’t underestimate them. Defense will be everything as they get desperate. Help Jethro keep a clean sheet, okay? I want it bad .”

I don’t even dare to make eye contact with Clay after that comment.

“If we can shut out Carolina tonight,” he adds, “forget the bar tab. I’ll buy everyone a pony.”

There’s a rumble of laughter, the loudest of it from me.

Maybe there are some sexual favors at stake for the other team, too, because Carolina makes a big push and slides a goal between my skates in the last two minutes of the game.

I’m only partly mollified by DiCosta’s goal right before the final buzzer, and we go home with a 4-1 win. The series is three games to one, which means we could end this thing in Raleigh.

The next day I get a text from my dad. Call me is all it says.

That sounds grim, so I return it in a hurry. “You rang?”

“Yeah, kid. Nice streak you got goin’.”

I relax a little. “Thanks. How’s Shelby?”

“She’s great, Jethro. So great. Can’t wait for you to see for yourself. Meantime, I could fly Toby out to Raleigh to watch the game. You got two tickets?”

“Sure.” I rarely use my comp seats. “You want to come to a game? They’re yours.”

“Of course we want to come,” he says, as if this were a regular occurrence.

I buy them airplane tickets and find them a hotel room. On game day, I wait for them in the hotel lobby, stealing a few minutes from my busy schedule for a quick hello.

I’m checking my watch for the fifth time when the revolving doors push open and Toby strides in. He’s wearing shorts, a Cougars tee, and a big smile. “Uncle Jethro!”

“Hey!” Something catches inside my chest as he runs toward me. “Dude! I haven’t seen you in ages! Nice shirt.”

He laughs and throws his arms around my hips. “I got a foam finger, too! I’m gonna cheer really loud.”

“I could use it. How you been?”

We sit down on a sofa, and he starts blabbing at me about day camp. “The free swim is better than the lessons. They make everybody take lessons. Volleyball is cool, but we’re riding horses next week!”

“Wow. I’ve never ridden a horse.”

“Never?”

I shake my head.

“Mom told me not to do it unless they have helmets. So I asked, but they totally have helmets.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I say uselessly. That would have never occurred to me. Worst guardian ever.

“Grandpop went on a date,” he says next.

My eyes lift to my father, who’s standing awkwardly to the side.

“What?” he demands, his face reddening. “It’s just a date. Everybody dates.”

I shrug. “That’s cool. You’re the one making it weird, not me.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Where’d you meet her?”

“She bought the house next door!” Toby says. “Her name is Greta. She makes really good cookies. She calls them Snickerdoodles, but they aren’t like a Snickers at all.”

“Bummer. Still nice of her, though.”

“Yeah,” Toby says. “She comes over after dinner a lot .”

“Twice,” my father corrects. “To play cards.”

“Cool.” I bury my smile.

Several of my teammates breeze into the lobby through the revolving door. “Lunch in ten,” Kapski says with a wave. “Third floor.”

“Aye aye, Kap.”

“Wait!” Toby says, springing up. “Can you sign this, Mr. Kapski?” He pulls a Sharpie and a pack of hockey cards out of his pocket and thrusts them at Kapski.

“Sure, buddy.”

Toby collects a few signatures, something I’ve never seen him do before.

“This is new,” I say to my father. “He’s never been a hockey fan.”

“His Michigan friends are,” my father says with a chuckle. “They told him that if Colorado wins, those cards would be valuable.”

“So he’s a little opportunist?”

My dad just shrugs.

Then Clay appears, and Toby swoops in on him, too. “Hi, Coach!”

“Hey, Toby. Mr. Hale.” He stops abruptly, smiling at my kid and then my dad. He puts his hands in his pockets. Then he pulls them out again, like he forgot how to stand still. “Are you ready for the game?”

“Yeah, but are you?” Toby demands. “I got a lot riding on this.”

Clay cracks a smile. “I’ll do my best, okay?”

“If you win, I’ll make you cupcakes,” Toby says.

“Hmm.” Clay crosses his arms across his chest and seems to think about it. “You know, it’s been a while since we made those, and I could use another one. All right. It’s a deal. Now I’d better get upstairs. Later, guys.” He trots off.

“Don’t forget the cream cheese,” I tell Toby. “And now I think I have to go with them for lunch.”

“Is the food good?” he wants to know.

“Yeah, bud. But while we eat it, they play video of the other team and talk strategy. It’s not really about the food.”

“We’re getting hot chicken,” my father says, a hand on Toby’s head. “Buddy, wait for me by that plant?” He points at a potted tree by the check-in desk. “I just gotta talk to your uncle a minute.”

“Sure. Bye, Jethro.” He bops over to hug me again. “I’ll scream loud.”

“You do that.”

“Look,” my dad says after Toby scoots away. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission about the trip to Michigan. I know that custody document has your name on it—but you weren’t home .”

“Yeah,” I say gruffly. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“I’m not judging,” my father adds. “You got a busy life. But so do we, and it’s not in Colorado. The boy needs Shelby.”

Does he, though? And does Shelby deserve him? “We’ll talk more when the series is over,” I say. “Promise.”

“Fine. We’ll be rooting for you.” He gives me a quick smile.

“Thanks, Dad. It means a lot.” I hold out my hand for a shake, but he grabs me into a quick, hard hug instead.

I’m so startled, I forget to say goodbye.

Upstairs, during Murph’s video review, I surreptitiously pull out my phone and message Clay.

Sorry my kid mugged you in the lobby.

Sorry I was so awkward.

You know, I noticed that.

I’ve literally never done a meet-the-family thing. I mean I still haven’t. But it made me think about it.

Toby’s already a fan. I’ll make sure he keeps his word about those cupcakes.

See that you do.