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I’m about to throw my phone back into my pile of clothes when it vibrates with a text, and I almost ignore it on the off chance it’s something my father forgot to throw in over the phone.
But it’s not him, much to my pleasant surprise.
LILA: Thanks again for agreeing to the play day. It’ll mean a lot to the kids.
I’m grinning as I tap out a reply.
ME: And you too, right?
LILA: Eh. I guess so.
I cover my mouth with my hand, my palm pressing into my smile as I picture the teasing tilt of her mouth as she typed it. Amazingly, all the bitter feelings that had been threatening to consume me dissipate in the wake of that imagined smile.
And I still have no clue what that means.
Nine
DELILAH
“This looks like shit.”
I choke on a laugh as I try to keep my expression stern, turning on the precocious twelve-year-old giving a disgusted look to a sugar cookie. “Jamie. I don’t think you’re supposed to be saying things like that.”
“It does kind of look like shit,” Corbin agrees, looking over Jamie’s shoulder.
Jamie immediately elbows the larger boy in the stomach, causing the breath to rush out of him. “Shut up. Why are you here, anyway? Boys aren’t supposed to be baking.”
I drop my spoon into the bowl of icing I’ve been mixing so we can decorate the cookies, putting my fists on my hips. “Hey, none of that. Boys can do anything girls can do if they want to. And girls can do anything boys can do too. Got it?”
Jamie looks sheepish. “Yeah, okay.”
“I don’t like the skates,” Corbin mumbles. “I can’t stand up in them.”
“And that’s okay,” I tell him, patting his shoulder. “Hockey isn’t for everyone.”
I feel a shadow cast over the table, turning to see my brother’s smirking face as he leans over it, his turquoise sling matching his jersey pretty good. “You guys want to know a secret? My sister here busted her nose the first time she ever got on the ice. She looked like she had an eggplant on her face for like a month.”
The kids around me all giggle, and I roll my eyes. “You want to tell them why you’re wearing the sling, Kristi Yamaguchi? Or should I?”
“Rude,” he tsks. “What are you guys making?”
“Sugar cookies,” Brittany, one of the older teens, says in a bored tone. “Duh.”
Jack is unbothered, shooting her a grin. “Sorry, they don’t pay me for my brain.”
“Good thing,” I laugh. “Your income would be significantly lower.”
“I will refrain from responding in front of the children.”
“That means he was gonna call her a bad word,” I hear Jamie whisper, followed by a soft laugh from Corbin.
I tilt my head toward the rink on the other side of the open-air building, trying not to let my eyes linger on a particular jersey, something I’ve been perfecting for the last hour or so. “How is it going out there?”
“Well, Sanchez hasn’t run any kids over,” Jack snorts. “So that’s something.”
I avert my eyes, grabbing the bowl of cookie icing and my spoon and giving it an absent stir. “And how’s Ian doing?”
“Boyfriend’s fine,” Jack answers with only a hint of sarcasm. “He hasn’t yelled at any of them yet.”
