Page 46 of You, Again
I wasn’t a dummy. She wanted to know if I thought Nolan was cute or something. I could have laughed it off as a silly query, but it felt like a truth moment. I wasn’t out, and I didn’t intend to come out to a seven-year-old. However, I didn’t want to lie either.
“Yeah, I like him a lot.”
MK smiled. “Are you—”
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Nolan said, skating up to us. He snatched my stick from MK and handed her a pee wee one. Then he dropped a dozen pucks and squeezed her shoulder. “There you go, Princess. Show us what you got.”
MK sucked in a theatrical breath and nudged her glasses again. She eyed the goal while adjusting her grip—right hand on top, left under the shaft. She wiggled her hips like a golfer preparing to tee off.
“Loosen up and let it fly,” I advised. “Don’t think too hard. Just go for it.”
She nodded and…went for it, nailing ten consecutive shots with more power than I’d seen from a few juniors. Ronnie and Nolan weren’t kidding. The kid had real talent. Sure, she was only seven and yes, she missed a few, but once she relaxed, she was a natural.
Nolan whooped and spun her in a circle. “Ice queen!”
I offered her my hand and squeezed her shoulder. “Well done. Looks like I owe you a few books. Do me one last favor and pass with me. Just to the other goal and back.”
“Okay.”
We skated a couple of feet apart and leisurely passed the puck. I had to chase after it more than once, and tried to make it funny by pantomiming some terrible figure skating moves that made her howl with glee. She stopped at the opposite goal, clutching her side when my double axel sent me into the boards. I still managed to pull off a decent pass, but I’d lost her to a new round of hilarity.
“Did you swallow a bag of feathers or something?” I teased. “What’s so funny?”
“You are.”
I grinned. “I like you, MK. Let’s go buy some books.”
The three ofus piled into Nolan’s truck—Nolan behind the wheel, and MK and I in the cramped back seat. A six-foot-five dude had no business folding himself in half in an extended cab pickup, but her unfettered laughter spurred me on.
Everything was funny to her—my knees squished against the seat in front of me, the honky-tonk song on the radio, the new sign on the coffee shop with an artistic swirl of steam I offhandedly mentioned looked like poop. In between giggle fits, she asked questions.
Why did I play hockey? Had I ever been to California? What about Disneyland? Why did I move to Elmwood?
Thankfully, the drive to Pinecrest took less than fifteen minutes. Our impromptu shooting session had cut into MK’s perusing time. According to Nolan, that was a blessing.
“She can spend hours walking up and down these aisles,” he said with an indulgent smile, crossing his arms as his niece skipped ahead to the children’s section. When she was just out of earshot, he leaned into me. “Thanks for this. It was really cool to see her on the ice again. It’s been a long time.”
I didn’t have a chance to reply. MK called his name just as the owner reminded us they’d be closing soon.
Twenty minutes and twentysomething books later, we were on our way to Elmwood. We stopped at the Frosty Freeze, ate ice cream on picnic benches, and talked about dragonflies, magic portals, and the possibility of fairies living in the forest.
“Maybe. My dad used to tell me about the selkies who supposedly lived off the coast of Ireland,” I reported conversationally.
“What’s a selkie? Who’s your dad? Who’s your mom? Do I know them?”
Nolan glided his tongue across his chocolate cone like an unintentional porn star and flashed an amused grin my way. I bumped his knee under the picnic table. It was meant to be a quick poke, but I liked being attached to him, so I left it there.
“Uh…well, a selkie is a mythical creature—half human, half seal,” I replied.
“A mermaid!”
“Yeah, something like that.” I licked my chocolate chip and continued. “You might have met my dad, Jan Kiminski. He’s a professor at the community college in Wood Hollow. He teaches English and history, and he loves mythology.”
“Yes, I know him. He’s nice.” MK shifted from one knee to the other and wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin. “Do you have a mom?”
“She died when I was six. A long time ago.”
“Oh.” MK darted her gaze to me. “Mine died too. I don’t remember her. Do you remember yours?”