Chapter 5 #2
He continued the act, plopping down onto the bench and crossing his arms over his chest. I joined Charlie at the goal, lightly tapping my stick against hers.
“Thanks for having my back.”
She gave a sharp nod and then reached up to take off her helmet. Little baby hairs stuck to her face and neck.
I tilted my head to the bench. “What do you say we call it?”
Just that little bit of exertion, and I could feel sweat trickling down the nape of my neck.
I was terribly out of shape. Maybe I needed to take Jada up on her offer of going to Pilates together.
It would be impossible to get back to my collegiate fitness level, but it would do me good to exercise daily and not just at Puffins practices.
Charlie looked as if she might argue, but then the exhaustion won out, and she followed me over to the bench.
Realizing where we were headed, Jeremiah exited the penalty box to join us.
I wouldn’t have put it past Charlie to tell him to get back in and serve his full two minutes, but she let it slide.
I sat down on the bench harder than I had intended, my left leg giving out halfway through lowering me down. A small groan escaped at the collision of my tailbone and the cold metal.
“You sound like my daddy.” Charlie eyed her dad mischievously.
“Hey, now”—he pointed a gloved hand at her—“I’ll remember that when you’re retired and complaining about back pain.”
I nodded in agreement with him. “Hockey does a number on your body. But it’s worth it.” I sent her a wink.
Grabbing my water bottle, I guzzled down half of it before coming up for air.
“God, I wish concessions were open. What I wouldn’t give for a pickle right now,” I sighed longingly.
Jeremiah shoved Charlie’s hockey gear into a large duffle while she sat down between us to untie her skates. “Give me a second, and I’ll unlock it.”
I stared at him, my brain not fully comprehending the meaning of his words. Maybe I was so desperate for a post-practice pickle that I’d imagined him saying he’d get me one.
“You have a key to the concessions?”
“Yeah. It’s my rink,” he said as if it were obvious.
It most definitely was not.
How did I not know he owned the hockey rink? Uncle Cal just oh-so-conveniently forgot to mention that, on top of Jeremiah being a pro athlete. Or retired pro athlete. Whatever.
If Jeremiah felt me ogling him, he didn’t pay me any mind as he traded Charlie her slides for her skates, snapping guards into place over the blades and adding them to the massive bag. Despite its obvious weight, he slung it over his shoulder with ease as he stood.
“What sounds good to you, Tot?”
“Can we warm up the cheese for nachos?” Charlie asked, already hurrying ahead of him.
I rushed to replace my skates with sneakers, haphazardly tossing my things into my bag before following after them.
Jeremiah dropped the duffle by the door to the concessions and then dug a ring of keys out of his pocket, flicking through them until he found the right one.
The second the stand was open, Charlie made a beeline to the fridge stocked with drinks and snagged a red Gatorade.
Jeremiah held the door open so I could step in behind her.
She began to root around in one of the cabinets for the nacho chips. Successful in her search, she placed the bag and her drink up on the counter before climbing onto the stool. Jeremiah slipped behind us to turn on the cheese warmer.
“What position did you play when you were little?” Charlie asked, cracking open her Gatorade.
I rested against the counter next to her. “I was always a defenseman. All the way through college.”
“Did you ever get hurt checking someone?”
“Oh, definitely. But I had to protect my goal and my goalie, right?”
Next thing I knew, Jeremiah was holding out a dill pickle to me, the delicious savior floating in a pouch full of juice. I’d never been so happy.
“You are a saint,” I breathed out, eagerly tearing open the treat.
Jeremiah just chuckled as he took the bag of chips from Charlie and returned to the cheese dispenser to make her nachos.
That first burst of juice as I bit into the pickle had me closing my eyes in ecstasy. Water and Gatorade were great and all, but nothing hydrated you quite like a pickle.
“So, pickles are your hockey thing?”
I opened my eyes to find Jeremiah watching me with an amused smile on his face. My cheeks flushed a little at having been caught nearly moaning over a pickle. Just casually sucking on an extremely phallic-looking vegetable. Don’t mind me.
“I, um…” I coughed a little on the juice, which had been the nectar of the gods just moments before, but was now my worst enemy.
At least it wasn’t dribbling down my chin or anything. I reached for a napkin just in case.
“Yeah. I dehydrated easily as a kid, so my mom always had a pickle on hand to help me get my electrolytes back quickly.” I shrugged. “Then it just became tradition to have one after practice or a game.”
I didn’t have a reason to be embarrassed; nearly every hockey player had some sort of ritual they did before or after a game. Mine just happened to also be extremely helpful in rehydrating myself and avoiding muscle cramps.
“What’s yours?” I turned it back on him. “Or what was yours?”
Jeremiah carried the tray of nachos over and slid it in front of Charlie before redirecting his attention to me.
“Doodling,” he answered. “I’ve got notebooks full of random little cartoons. It was something to keep my hands busy when the nerves got to me.”
“They’re really good,” Charlie chimed in before shoving a cheese-coated chip into her mouth.
“They’re all right.”
“Do you still draw?” I asked, taking another—much smaller—bite of my pickle.
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
He shifted from one foot to the other, oozing discomfort, so I dropped it. Some routines could be extremely personal, and I didn’t want to pry.
“All right, Charlie girl. What’s your hockey thing?”
“I always put fresh, purple tape on my blade, because it was my mom’s favorite color. She passed away when I was three.”
Oh shit.
When Charlie had come into the bakery, I’d suggested she share the cupcakes with her mom and dad when she got home. Why the hell did I make that assumption? But she had responded so gracefully, I’d had no idea. It did explain the change in her nana’s demeanor, though.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Charlie. That’s very special, though, that you honor her in that way.”
While her smile wasn’t as big as normal, it was still there.
We finished up our snacks and discarded the trash. I helped Jeremiah make sure everything was cleaned up and the cheese warmer had been turned off before we exited the concessions.
“Hey, Tot. Why don’t you go to the restroom before we head out?” he suggested. “We’ve gotta make some stops on the way home.”
“Okay.” She turned to me. “Don’t leave until I get back, okay?”
“Won’t move an inch,” I promised.
Assured that I would stay, she turned and hurried off to the restroom around the corner. Jeremiah turned to me once she was out of sight, an apologetic look on his face. I wanted to wipe it right off. If anyone needed to apologize, it was me for being so careless.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you at the first practice when I introduced myself.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t owe anyone that.”
I couldn’t imagine experiencing such a devastating loss. I’d been lucky to have never had anyone close to me pass. But a parent? And at that young of an age? Or God forbid, my spouse. Someone I planned on growing old with.
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away.
“I’m so sorry the two of you had to go through that.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled softly.
Desperate to lift the mood before Charlie returned, I nodded in her direction. “You’ve got an amazing daughter. And beautiful. I can only imagine what her mother looked like.”
He followed my gaze, and a proud and affectionate smile graced his lips, chasing away at least some of the sadness.
“There’s a lot of Sadie in her. It’ll catch me off guard sometimes. She’ll give me a look or say something that Sadie would have totally said, and it’s like she’s there with us again.”
“Was her mom as sassy as she is?” I teased lightly. “That girl chirps like no other.”
Especially when it came to her dad.
“Oh yeah. Sadie had no problem putting someone in their place.” He tilted his head to the side. “Granted, I give it right back to Charlie, so I think I’m partially to blame for encouraging it. Just have to hope that mouth doesn’t get her in trouble in the future.”
“Oh, it totally will, but she’s a tough cookie. Besides”—I waved my hand—“she’s the goalie. Nobody will be able to touch her unless they want the whole team on them in seconds flat.”
Charlie came running out of the bathroom then and skidded to a stop next to us. I held my hand out for a fist bump.
“Thanks for letting me join you two today. It was much more fun than skating by myself,” I said.
She tapped her knuckles against mine. “Thanks for keeping up with Daddy. It was fun to see him struggle.”
She wore the most mischievous grin as she peeked up at her dad. Jeremiah just rolled his eyes as he picked up her bag and then nudged her shoulder to get her moving. His eyes met mine, and we exchanged a knowing look.
Yup. Grade A chirper.