Chapter 5
Damon rushed home to find his parents arguing.
Rather, his mother ranted at his father, who stared at her like a besotted dope.
“I told you we needed to sign up last week. But now we missed the deadline.” Leila Sinclair looked on the verge of tears, a beautiful woman with clear blue eyes and yellow hair threaded with white.
His father sighed. “Sweetheart, it won’t kill us to miss this seminar. You’re so good at recognizing dysfunction in our relationship. I’m better at communicating, aren’t I?” Big Mike appeared and sounded like a growling bear, but he looked at his wife as if she could do no wrong.
Damon’s parents had always had a weird dynamic. From a very small age, he’d watched his sweet mother dominate her behemoth of a husband.
Anyone looking on from the outside wouldn’t understand it, but Damon could see the power dynamic for what it was.
Mike Sinclair had been a juvenile delinquent with a talent for ice hockey. He’d played in the now defunct Continental Hockey League for a few seasons but ended up getting incarcerated for brawling outside the rink. He’d done enough damage to earn two and a half years in prison.
Being jailed only made the giant tougher. Upon release, he’d found employment with friends of his prison mates who made their money illegally. He’d worked as enforcement. No one wanted to mess with the man with the iron fists.
And then he met Leila, Damon’s mom.
That fateful event as they bumped into each other outside a grocery store turned into love at first sight. Or as his father called it, the Sinclair Gift. The pair married a month later, had Damon’s sister two years after that. And in three more years, Damon was born.
Leila had turned Mike’s life around. The rough bruiser still looked and acted like he owned the streets, but he’d shifted his talents from beating people up into making treasures from wood.
Leila had helped the business flourish until Mike could stand on his own and hired people to do his books and assist with his carpentry, leaving her to do what she really wanted.
Raise children and a family.
She did it well, so well with her understated charm and kindness that she had everyone dancing to her tune before they knew it.
Which was why Damon’s sister had joined the military and left home as soon as she could, and why Damon had also escaped, entering the AHL then transitioning to the NHL soon after.
He loved his parents dearly, but living with them? That was another matter entirely.
He realized they’d stopped arguing and were staring at him, both from their positions on the couch and recliner.
His father had bruised his left femur and broken both his left tibia and fibula in the car accident, hence his cast below the knee.
His mother had broken her right arm, which now ended in a cast to protect her broken radius in addition to her sling to prevent her from doing more damage to a bruised collar bone.
All in all, it could have been a lot worse.
Their SUV had been crushed. Fortunately, the driver who’d hit them had his license suspended and had been charged on his second DUI.
Damon had thought about paying the guy a visit, but his dad had persuaded him to let it go.
In the past three weeks, Mike and Leila had been sleeping a lot and dealing with nagging pain. It killed Damon to see it. But now that they started to feel a little better, they’d turned into demanding monsters.
No patience as patients, he thought with amusement then hurriedly wiped the smirk off his face when they both scowled at him.
“Sorry. What’s the emergency?” This time, he wanted to add but didn’t.
His mother gave him a sweet smile that put him on immediate alert. “Honey, I was hoping to have a small get-together with Brenda and Lee Friday night, but I’ll need you to make the dinner.”
He just stared at her. “You’re barely healed. You can’t have people over.” Not to mention he wasn’t the best cook.
“Ha. That’s what I said.” His dad huffed. “Leila, it’s too much. I can barely move, and you’re still hurting.”
“You need more pain meds, Mom?” Damon asked.
She frowned. “I don’t like how fuzzy they make me. I don’t want to get addicted to them.”
“It’s Tylenol. I think you’re safe.”
“Tylenol-3,” she corrected.
“No, you only had a few of those. You’ve been taking the regular stuff the last two weeks.”
She turned to Damon’s father. “You told me it was the stronger medicine.”
He shrugged. “That’s what the boy told me.”
“No, Dad. That’s not what I told you.”
“You calling me a liar?”
Damon saw the sparkle in his father’s eyes and knew he provoked a fight only to distract his wife. So with a healthy dose of sarcasm, Damon added, “If the big-ass shoes fit…”
“Damon.” His mother gasped. “Show some respect to your poor father. And watch your language.”
“Yeah, you little fucker. Watch it.” His dad smirked, and Damon bit back a laugh.
His mother rolled her eyes. “You two.” She motioned for Damon to come closer.
He approached and bent down to receive a gentle, one-armed hug.
“I’ve told you this a bunch of times already, but I’m so happy you’re back. I know it’s not for long, but we really appreciate you being here for us.”
His dad grunted. In approval or dismissal, Damon couldn’t tell.
“You heard from any of your teammates?” Mike asked. “They seem to be doing okay, but not nearly as well if you were there.”
So far in the season, the Ice Raptors had won sixty percent of their games. They should have won ninety, but the offense had lagged, and their backup goalie was still getting used to tending in real games.
“Lars and Mickey keep texting me, complaining about Colby. But the kid is doing his best.”
His father snorted. “That ‘kid’ is only five years younger than you, you know.”
“I know, Dad.”
“He’s getting better fast. Watch it or he’ll be after your position.”
Damon counted to ten in his head. They’d been having this discussion since he’d come home three weeks ago. “If he plays well enough to deserve it, then good for the team. But we all know I’m the league’s best right now. Busted knee or not, I’m going to own the ice when I get back.”
His father grunted. “Good. Can’t believe you’re barely past thirty and breaking already. You stand in the goal cage all day and night covered in pads. How the hell did you get injured?”
“Seriously?”
Mike muttered, “You get that weakness from Uncle Frank.”
“Probably,” Damon muttered back. He didn’t care for his mother’s brother, a die-hard Flyers fan and general whiner.
Leila sniffed. “Nice try, fellas. But I want a lovely family dinner here tomorrow for Thanksgiving. And I want a meal with friends on Friday.”
“They’ll probably be busy with their own family on Friday, Mom.” Damon shook his head. “And if you think I can cook, you might be suffering some head trauma the doctors missed.”
“Don’t be a smartass, boy,” his father growled. “I wish Grace had arrived yesterday, like she’d said she would.”
If his sister was smart, she’d delay coming for a few more days. Major Grace Sinclair kicked ass in the Marine Corps. She’d taken some time off for the holiday, but only after he’d promised he’d be around to run interference.
Grace, like Damon, took after their dad, large and gruff. So that when their mother worked her smiling and charming wiles on her children, Grace folded like a cheap suit every time. And she hated it.
“You know, Grace is a pretty decent cook, Mom. I bet she’d be happy to help you Friday.” He smiled, not feeling bad at all throwing his sister to the parental predators staring at him. “I have a date anyway.”
Scenting blood in the water, his parents perked up. Great. He’d gotten them off his case about dinner Friday, but at a cost.
“A date with who?”
“Do we know her?” his mother asked. “How did you meet her?”
He shrugged and took a seat, giving his knee a rest. He’d been doing his best to heal, easing pressure on his knee while also staying mobile, needing to move the joint around. The brace he wore helped.
“I met her when I was out to dinner with Cade last night. She’s nice. Pretty. Just thought I’d try to be more social since I have some time.”
His mother smiled.
His father harrumphed.
Damon narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“More social? Try social at all. You live like a damn monk. We’re not getting any younger, boy. Get married and have some kids so your mother can spoil the grandchildren she deserves.”
“You’re on this again? Shouldn’t you be saving this spiel for Grace?”
“Oh, we’ll be talking to her too.”
“Good.” He really should feel worse about messing with his sister. But no. He didn’t. Served her right for torturing him when they were kids.
“So the girl…?” His mother looked so hopeful.
“I don’t want to jinx it. I’ll tell you after.” That was if she didn’t ghost him. With Marlie, he wouldn’t put it past her. Man, he had a massive crush on the woman.
His father eyeballed him then gave him a chilling smile.
“What’s that grin all about? Should I call a priest? You look possessed.”
His mother choked on the sip of water she’d taken and tried to stop laughing.
That wiped the smile off his dad’s face. He shifted across the recliner toward Leila and patted her gently on the back when she leaned forward. “You’re lucky I’m injured or I’d paddle that backside. You’re not too big to punish, boy.”
Damon just rolled his eyes, aware his father might try it even now. “I was kidding. I don’t even want to know what goes on in your brain.”
“You want to know? I’ll tell you.”
Damon groaned.
“This girl. She’s the one.”
“The one what? I haven’t even gone on a date with her. She could be crazy.” Oh man. Mean and crazy? Insta-love for sure.
“No. I know that look.” Mike turned to Leila and nodded. “When he was thinking about her, he had the smile.”
Leila blinked. “The smile?”
“Yep. The same one I had when I first saw you. It’s the Sinclair Gift. Boy has met his future bride.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to meet her.”
Damon grabbed the nearest pillow and put it over his face, hoping to block out the insanity that was his family. “You know I’m only here through Christmas, and then I’m right back on the road until playoffs.”
Apparently, they heard him, muffled though he’d been, and didn’t care.
His mother chuckled. “Time enough to work on your fiancé. When do we get to meet her?”
Damon carefully got to his feet. “You know, I think I’ll make a run to the grocery store to grab some ingredients for your Friday night get-together.”
“Oh, find something for my chicken casserole.”
“Really, Leila?” Mike asked. “Chicken right after Thanksgiving? That’s a lot of bird.”
“Good point.”
While they argued the merits of fowl, Damon escaped to the garage, grabbing his jacket on the way. He had no intention of hitting a grocery store on the day before Thanksgiving. And not when he’d already grabbed a ton of food for their holiday celebration just a few days ago.
He texted his buddy, who answered right away.
More than glad for the reprieve, Damon decided to forgive Cade for being an ass last night. The invite to his brother’s place later to help set up for an early holiday party was just what he needed to get away from his loving but menacing folks.
But as he followed directions to the place, he wondered if the Sinclair Gift had any substance, because damned if he could get Marlie and her full lips pulled back in a sneer off his mind.