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“I heard it before,” I tell her. “From you or your mother. I don’t remember which.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not doing anything with it.”

She watches me.

“You promise?”

It should be an easy promise. I make sure I mean it before I give it to her.

“Yes.”

Tova hands me the remote.

“Show me again.”

I rewind to the faceoff.

“Too far.”

“Bossy.”

“You went too far.”

I move it forward a few seconds and hand the remote back.

She leans toward the screen.

“There.”

The winger’s eyes leave the puck.

Tova pauses it.

“He checks his friend.”

“Yeah.”

She starts the clip again. Three seconds later, she stops it herself.

His hands have settled on the stick.

“Then that.”

I keep my mouth shut. She rewinds the clip and watches it again.

Chapter thirty-seven

Astrid

Colt has been told three times that the chicken is for dinner. He takes another piece out of the pan anyway while Tova watches from the other side of the island.

“That’s four.”

“Quality control.”

“You’re stealing.”