Chapter 12
~Hudson~
Every Sunday night when I’m not competing, my parents expect me for Sunday dinner.
It’s a tradition that stretches back to my dad’s side of the family, all the way to the farm where he grew up.
Though his older brother took over the running of the farm, our family still gathered there every Sunday when I was a kid, filling the house with the laughter and chatter of cousins, uncles, and aunts.
That tradition didn’t die when we moved to Edmonton for my skating career, but it did change. Since we can’t make the three-hour drive to the farm every Sunday with my schedule, we gather at my parents’ place every week instead.
I have no complaints. My family is awesome.
Besides Mom and Dad, who have been my biggest fans and supporters since the first day I stepped on the ice, there’s my sister, Sutton, who just started university, and my two younger brothers who still live at home.
I love the chaos of our weekly dinners, all the noisy conversations, my dad’s dad jokes, and the way Mom insists on feeding everyone until they’re stuffed to the gills.
But as I walk up to the front door this Sunday, my hair still a little damp from the shower I had before leaving the rink, a thought flashes through my mind that I haven’t had in years.
I could see Riley here.
I can picture her sitting at the table, laughing at my dad’s corny puns and asking my mom for the recipe for the mashed potatoes. I can see her being a part of this tradition.
I pause on the porch for a second, a warm smile tugging at my lips as I let myself imagine it. Even if it never happens, the possibility is a nice change.
“No!”
Tyler’s shout is the first thing I hear when I open the door. In someone else’s house, that might alarm me, but from him, I know what it means: whatever game of hockey he’s watching isn’t going his way.
“Who’s losing today?” I tease as I kick off my boots at the door.
The mouthwatering smell of roasted chicken, garlic, and thyme fills the air, mixing with the sharp tang of the winter chill that clings to my jacket.
Tyler doesn’t even look at me as I step into the house, eyes still glued to the screen.
“Hudson!” My mom rushes out of the kitchen to give me a hug as if it’s been a year since she saw me rather than a week. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
My eyes dart up to the clock hanging over the TV. “I’m five minutes later than usual.”
“Still!” she tuts, walking back to the kitchen as I follow her. The warmth of the house wraps around me, quickly making me forget how cold it is outside. “Come in here and help me with the potatoes.”
The comforting sound of sizzling from the stove greets me. A younger version of me would have complained that Tyler and Zac are sprawled in front of the TV when they could be helping instead of me, but I’ve outgrown that bullshit. Let them do what they want; I’m happy to help.
“How was your week?” I ask her as I wash my hands and grab the potato peeler next to the mountain of potatoes.
You’d think she’s cooking for a family of sixteen rather than six with the amount of food she always makes.
Some of it always finds its way into my hands to take home for me and Lewis to eat during the week.
“Oh, you know,” she says, her voice a blend of light exhaustion and satisfaction. “The usual. Pretty quiet.”
She then proceeds to fill me in on the multiple meetings she had for all the various committees she’s on. I swear, my mom does more in a week than most people do in a year.
Usually, when she asks me how my week went, there’s not much to share. I train, I eat, I sleep; wash, rinse, repeat. But this week, I have some news.
“My quad Salchow’s feeling really good.”
Her eyes light up in delight. “Will you have it in the short program in Finland?”
“That’s the plan.”
My first competition of the year is next weekend in Helsinki, and I have a good chance against the rest of the field there. None of the top five skaters in the world will be there, so a podium finish is well within reach. Maybe even the top rung if the stars align.
“I wish we could come,” she sighs, her eyes softening with the kind of regret I don’t want her to feel. No one expects her to travel across the world to watch me skate for less than ten minutes, least of all me.
I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “You’ll be at the next one. Don’t worry about it.”
Sutton arrives, joining us in the kitchen while my dad returns from the garage to watch the rest of the game with my brothers. At six o’clock on the dot, the six of us gather around the dinner table, saying a quick prayer before digging into the incredible spread my mom has prepared.
Conversation is the usual mix of questions, stories and teasing, until Tyler looks my way. “What were you doing at West Ed on Friday?”
A flood of memories from my time with Riley comes rushing back: the laughter, the feeling of her hand brushing against mine, the way she smiled at me, and most of all, that unexpected kiss. A smile slips onto my face before I can stop it.
“How do you know I was there? Weren’t you supposed to be at school?”
“Did you skip school, Tyler?” my mom’s voice cuts in with no small amount of concern.
“Busted!” Zac crows.
“I didn’t skip anything!” he protests. “A friend of mine said he saw you on the ice. That’s all, jeez.”
My mom’s attention immediately moves to me. “You were skating at the mall? Why?”
“There’s a new skater at the club who had never been there before. I showed her around the mall and we went skating for fun. That’s all, jeez.”
I mimic Tyler’s pouty conclusion, making the whole table laugh while Tyler throws me a dirty look, trying not to smile.
“Her?” Sutton repeats curiously when the laughter dies down. “Was this a date?”
“Nah, she’s just a friend,” I say, trying to play it off but unfortunately, my family knows me too damn well.
“He’s totally crushing on her,” Zac laughs, his voice still breaking a little bit when he does. At 14, he’s almost outgrown the squeaking, but every now and then, it still slips through.
“Who is she? Have we seen her skate?” Mom asks.
“Where did she move from?” Sutton adds.
“Is she hot?” Tyler contributes, his voice full of teenage curiosity that makes the room burst into laughter again.
I answer their questions in order. “Her name is Riley, she’s from California, you probably haven’t seen her skate yet, but you will because she’s really good. And yeah, she’s hot, but we’re still just friends.”
My dad chimes in, raising an eyebrow. “An American skater? Isn’t that crossing enemy lines?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “What are you talking about? We have skaters from all over at the club.”
“I mean dating her,” he clarifies, his tone still teasing. “You’re competing for opposing teams.”
“Okay, first of all, we’re not dating, and second, the only time there are national teams is at the Olympics, so no need to worry about that just yet.”
“But imagine that you do have to compete against each other,” Sutton gasps dramatically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet. So romantic.”
“There’s nothing romantic about idiot teenagers killing themselves,” Tyler mutters, and in an instant, all the warmth is sucked out of the room.
Knives scrape against plates with all the subtlety of a record scratch, and the hum of conversation dies. Tyler’s face goes pale as every eye at the table turns toward me.
“I… I’m sorry,” Tyler stammers. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know.” My voice comes out a little too high, forced and awkward. I try to fill the space, my hand gripping the edge of my table to keep myself steady. “Don’t worry about it.”
Still, the weight of the moment lingers. Everyone looks uncomfortable. Feet shuffle, Dad clears his throat, and Mom taps her fingers nervously on the table.
“When’s your next game?” I ask Tyler to change the subject.
“Wednesday,” he mumbles.
“Cool. Send me the address and I’ll come if I can.”
Forcing a smile, Mom launches into a story about Tyler’s new hockey coach and the conversation moves on. Gradually, everyone eases back into a more natural rhythm, but the little sting in my chest doesn’t fully go away, no matter how much I smile and laugh and pretend I’ve forgotten all about it.