Chapter 37 Théo #2
“So, Derek,” my mom said, turning her attention to him as the first round of bamboo steamers arrived at the table. “Avery tells me you’ve been playing for the Frost for quite some time?”
“Seven years now, Ms. Lee,” Derek said. “Feels like I just started, though. The team keeps me young.” He smiled that warm, easy smile that made people trust him on instinct.
“Please, call me Sharon.” She waved away the formality. “And seven years—that’s wonderful. You must love it.”
“I do,” he said. “Hockey’s been my whole life since I was a kid. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“That kind of dedication is admirable.” Her gaze flicked to me and back to Derek. “It’s nice to see young people who are passionate about their work.”
“Avery and Théo are the same way,” Derek said and I stiffened slightly.
Her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “Avery mentioned you wear a letter.”
Derek’s ears went faintly pink. “Alternate captain,” he confirmed. “For the last couple seasons.”
“Well.” My mom looked genuinely impressed, her posture straightening the way it did when she approved of something. “That’s not nothing.”
“It’s a letter,” Derek said, modest. “But it comes with responsibility. Keeping the room steady. Keeping guys level. Especially the younger ones.” He glanced at Avery and then back to Sharon. “This league can chew people up if you don’t have someone in your corner.”
Sharon nodded slowly. “Leadership suits you.”
Derek’s smile softened, almost shy. “Thank you. I try.”
“So you’ve seen my Théo skate?”
“I’ve watched him skate a few times. We usually have weight training in the morning and he uses the rink at the facility when he’s not training with his coach. The focus, the discipline—it’s incredible. He makes it look effortless but you can tell how much work goes into every movement.”
My mom’s expression softened. “Is that so? Théo must have forgotten to mention it.”
“It’s not that serious, mom. I’m just getting my legs back.” I focused on cutting up a potsticker into smaller pieces with my chopsticks.
I felt my mom’s eyes focus on me but Derek’s voice drew her attention away.
“He’s being modest. He’s magnificent.” Derek reached for the teapot and refilled my cup without being asked. “I don’t really get all the technicalities of the sport. It’s like when you hear a song in a different language. You don’t understand the words but it sounds beautiful anyway.”
“That’s a lovely way to put it,” my mom said quietly.
Hana jumped in, sensing I needed a lifeline. “Théo’s been helping me practice plating for my culinary finals. He has a really good eye for composition.”
“Years of costume fittings,” I said dryly. “You learn what works visually.”
“He’s got good taste in food too,” Hana continued. “He actually gives real feedback about what I make instead of just saying it’s good.”
“If I just said everything was delicious, you’d never improve. That’s not friendship, that’s flattery.” I nudged her with my elbow. “Besides, your improvement from week to week is totally impressive.”
“See? Helpful.” Hana grinned. “Unlike Avery, who just inhales everything and asks for seconds.”
“That’s also helpful,” Avery protested. “It means it’s good!”
My mom was smiling now, something warm and relieved in her expression. I realized what they were doing—Hana and Derek, maybe even Avery. They were showing her I wasn’t alone here. That I had people. That Chicago wasn’t just a place I’d fled to but somewhere I was actually building a life.
“It sounds like you’ve found a good group here,” my mom said, looking around the table. “I was worried when Théo first moved. Toronto was... difficult. But this—” She gestured vaguely at the chaos of steamers and laughter and easy conversation. “This is good. This is really good.”
Hana jumped in, bright and eager. “The Frost is basically one big extended family. I love it. Théo and I watched a few games together but my brother’s boyfriend has a box.” She glanced at my mom. “We should take you while you’re in town.”
“A few games?” Derek perked up, surprise and something like pleased curiosity in his voice.
“I thought you hated hockey,” Avery grumbled around a mouthful of food.
Heat crept up my neck. “It’s… different,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “When you’re not the one being compared to your brother.”
Hana’s smile softened. “He’s actually fun to watch games with. He pretends he’s above it but he gets invested.”
Derek laughed—that low, warm sound I was becoming embarrassingly addicted to. “He’s particular,” he said, like it was a compliment. “Knows what he likes.”
My mom was watching the exchange with sharp, knowing eyes. But for once, they weren’t looking for cracks. They were looking at something whole.
The conversation moved on—Hana talking about her upcoming practicum, Avery recounting a disastrous hockey game from his peewee league that had the whole table laughing—but I felt my mom’s gaze return to me more than once.
To me and Derek. The way we sat close together.
The way he automatically passed me dishes without asking.
The way I leaned slightly toward him without realizing it.
After most of the food had arrived, Derek excused himself.
“I’m going to use the restroom,” he said, pushing back his chair. “Be right back.”
He was gone for maybe five minutes. When he returned, he slid back into his seat like nothing had happened, rejoining the table mid-debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
Hana said absolutely not. Avery would eat a leather shoe if it was slathered in cheese. My mom was diplomatically neutral.
It wasn’t until we asked for the check that we discovered what he’d done.
“Already taken care of,” our server said with a smile.
Everyone turned to look at Derek.
Avery shook his head. “You’re slick.”
He shrugged, the tips of his ears turning pink. “You’re hosting your mom. Seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Derek, you didn’t have to—” I started.
“I wanted to.” He met my eyes, and there was something warm and sure in his gaze. “It was a great meal. Great company. Let me do this.”
My mom gave me a strange look, smiling softly before shifting her attention to Derek. “That’s very generous of you, Derek,” she said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Sharon.”
◆◆◆
Later, after Derek and Hana had said their goodbyes and Avery had gone to pull the Jeep around, my mom and I stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the smell of roasted duck from a nearby shop.
“Derek’s lovely,” she said, glancing around casually.
“Yeah, Hana’s great too.”
“Mm.” She adjusted her scarf. “He’s very attentive. Very… considerate.”
“He’s a good guy. Avery really looks up to him.”
“I’m sure Avery does.” She paused. “But I wasn’t talking about Avery.”
My heart stuttered. “Mom—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to share, little bao.” She finally turned to look at me and her eyes were soft. Warm. “I just want you to know that I see you. And whoever makes you happy—whoever helps you heal—I’m grateful for them.”
I couldn’t speak. My throat was too tight.
She reached up and cupped my face in her hands, the way she used to when I was small.
“You deserve good things, Théo,” she said. “Don’t forget that.”
Then Avery pulled up in his ridiculous Jeep, honking the horn, and the moment passed.
But I carried her words with me for the rest of the day, turning them over in my mind like a stone worn smooth by water.
You deserve good things.
Maybe I was starting to believe it.
A few nights later, Hana made good on her promise. She dragged us to a Frost game. Bradley’s box was ridiculously luxurious and private so it wasn’t much of a burden.
My mom wore a number 27 jersey—Beaubien across her shoulders—and she looked absurdly pleased about it. I wore one of Derek’s hoodies, soft and oversized. I may have discreetly sniffed the sleeves during tense moments. It was calming.
The Frost won. A clean, satisfying win—Avery scoring once, Kenzo with an assist, the whole building vibrating with that communal kind of joy that had nothing to do with me and still tugged at something in my chest. Late in the third, after Derek buried one in close, he coasted past the faceoff circle and tipped his head up toward the box.
For half a second, his eyes found mine.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t point. Didn’t make it obvious.
But the look on his face said it anyway: This one’s for you.
My mom squeezed my arm so hard it almost hurt, cheering like she’d been a Frost fan her whole life. Hana was on her feet, screaming and hugging a giddy Bradley.
It was… good. Better than I expected.
Better than I thought I was allowed to have.