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“Yeah. I’m fine.” He swung his legs out of bed, and I watched as he dressed, feeling like something had shifted but I didn’t understand exactly what.
Sly peered over his shoulder at me. “You and Katie are coming to the game next weekend?”
I nodded.
“And the wedding?”
I nodded again. “Zara asked Katie to be the flower girl.”
Sly sighed and turned to face me, seeming to push away whatever had chilled the space around him. “Good,” he said, his voice warm again. “I know my mom kind of already asked you,” he said. “But will you go with me? Be my date to the wedding?”
The desperate teenager who still lived inside me dramatically shrieked and threw herself, giddy, on the bed. Sly Remington had basically just asked me to the prom.
“Of course.”
CHAPTER20
SLY
IS A QUILL BOAR BASICALLY A PORCUPINE?
Monday, I headed up to Wilcox and spent the week in my own apartment, making it easier to practice with the team ahead of the match. It was also easier to be away from my family, and even from Clara, so I could focus. I was keen to get my head right to meet the Quill Boars on the ice.
It might have been just an exhibition game, but that didn’t mean it didn’t matter.
It was nice being back in my quiet apartment, except it gave me a lot of time to think. But what I really needed to do was study.
There were two things keeping me from buckling down on classwork: Dad and Clara.
Things had been tense with my parents when I’d called. Dad was his usual self, which is to say that I didn’t speak with him because he was watching some game or another from his chair when I called. It wasn’t like I usually called home a lot, but I guess I thought maybe I’d catch Dad, maybe he’d decided to tell me himself about his health. Or that maybe Mom had mentioned she’d told me and he’d want to talk about it. Clearly, not the case.
“Are you ready for the game, Sylvester?” Mom had asked over the phone the night before. I hated the note of desperation I heard there, like she knew she’d done something wrong and I was the jerk holding a grudge about it.
“Yep.” I didn’t want to talk about hockey. It almost felt like if I did, I was just reinforcing her belief that it was all that mattered to me. Or that it was all I could handle discussing. I pictured myself screaming down the phone at my parents that I was an adult, that I could handle real-life issues just like Beckett could. For fuck’s sake, he was my little brother. Shouldn’t I be the one they came to with their concerns and worries as they aged?
Of course Clara knew.
That was a fact I hadn’t quite figured out how to reconcile. She was close with Mom, I knew that. And hell, she was right there every day, and I was a couple hours away, seemingly too absorbed or too single minded to be bothered with things like whatever life-threatening health issues my parents might have.
“We’ll see you there, son.” Dad had told me this as I’d hung up the night before the game.
“Yep. See you there.”
* * *
The dressing room before the game was the place I finally started to feel like myself again. The comforting routine of getting suited up, hearing my teammates banter. That was what I’d needed.
“Sly, is Clara here?” Rock asked this as he adjusted his pads next to me.
“I think so. Why?”
“No why. Just glad she’s coming. Happy to see you happy.”
I turned to him and glared. “I look happy to you?”
“No man, you look seriously pissed right now, but I figured that was just your game face.” He stopped what he was doing and gave me his full attention. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. No. I mean...there’s just a lot going on.”
