Page 27 of King of the Crease

I realize exactly why I never could be friends with other royals or socialites. It’s astounding how many of them are unhappy and completely blind to their blessings. My parents, especially my mother, worked to imbue me with gratitude for our station in life.

Hank skates around the goal. “What about you? You ever been married?”

“Me? No.”

“Smart guy. I’d have to think long and hard before getting married again.”

Hank is a total catch, and it breaks my heart that he would live out his life alone because of one awful woman. Who would want to be mean to this guy? Cathy probably kicks puppies in her spare time.

“Let’s move onto rebound control.” Hank motions for me to get back in goal. He flips soft shots at my pads.

“Direct it to the corners,” he says. “Angle your pads. You don’t want juicy rebounds.”

“Juicy is bad?”

“Extremely bad.”

I deflect a puck cleanly to the side.

“Did you book a mani-pedi for today? Because you nailed it!” Hank shouts.

My chest warms in a way that has nothing to do with exertion.

“What about you? Tell me about your life in Baltimore,” he says. We go back and forth with the pucks. Him sending them to the net, and me trying to block them.

“My life in Baltimore.” I let a puck through as I recount my research with Millie. “I’m an accountant. I love Matthew’s Pizza. I live walking distance to the Inner Harbor. I grew up in Owings Mills, a suburb. I’m in a book club with some coworkers, and we spend more time drinking wine than we do discussing the book. You know, pretty low-key life.”

My heart sinks with each lie that comes out of my mouth. Hank shared with me personal information about his son and his divorce, and here I am abusing his trust. Maybe now I get why a royal Rumspringa isn’t more of a thing.

“Sounds nice. I should check out Baltimore one of these days. Do you do personal taxes then?”

“Uh, yeah.” Adding machines are as foreign to me as spaceships.

“Nice. Do you work for a firm?”

“No. I…” I didn’t think through my lie thoroughly enough. I err on the side of quasi-truth. “It’s a family business. I work with my dad.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.”

“It’s not that awesome. He’s very exacting. He wants things done a certain way. The way they’ve always been done. And even when you do things his way, it’s never good enough.” My hands tense on my stick.

“You can always leave. Start your own firm,” Hank says.

“It’s not that easy.”

“My old man was kinda the same way. Not as severe as yours.” Hank rubs my shoulder to cheer me up, and his touch lightens me. “Something I realized after he passed was that he wanted things done his way because that’s all he knew. I think he was scared of trying new things. It’d amaze you how many people are. Maybe your old man is the same.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. The king has generations of traditions he’s trying to uphold in Ardenia. He takes the crown very seriously, and there will be no deviations from tradition.

“Or maybe he just likes the control. He’s very image conscious. I got in trouble when I was in univers–when I was in college.”

“What’d you do?”

“I’d rather not say.” I still see the glare of disappointment and disgust in my father’s eye. “But my dad bailed me out and was mad at me. Really mad. I’d brought embarrassment upon our house.”

“Maybe he was scared for you, scared about what could’ve happened.” Hank takes off his helmet and scratches his head. Sweat soaks the tips of his hair. “When my son was four, he wandered outside and across the street to play in a neighbor’s sprinkler. I ran over as fast as I could. I’ve never yelled so much at him. He burst into tears, these big heaping sobs. I felt awful. I still feel awful. I wasn’t mad at him, but I panicked. I’ve never been so terrified. He ran into the street. He could’ve…well, it could’ve been bad.

“Your dad just panicked. It sounds like whatever happened was pretty serious.” Hank shrugs. “Then again, I don’t know the guy, so I could be totally off base.”