Page 55 of Puck, Marry, Kill

“It did,” I say instead. “I even heard a couple of people say they came for the players, not the zoo. But we’ll benefit either way.”

He nods, both of us falling silent as the course of that conversational thread ends.

Vanessa is the one to save us. “Robbie said this is all to name a monkey?”

I look from her to Dad. He was listening to me? He shared what I told him? He’s here? As I realize the answer to all of those questions is yes, the little girl inside me feels seen and heard in a way she never did before, which is very confusing for adult me, who still hasn’t forgiven Dad for the years of near abandonment.

Giving Vanessa the same speech I’ve been repeating all evening, I say, “Yeah, Caprice is one of our siamang gibbons. This is her first offspring, which is a very big deal, not only for our zoo, but for all siamangs in captivity. We’re raising funds to name her.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” she coos. “What would you name her?”

“Oh, that honor will go to the highest bidder,” I rush to explain. “Not me, or any of the zoo employees.”

“Yeah, but what would you name her ... if you could?” Vanessa pries.

This has been an ongoing discussion among the zoo staff since we discovered Caprice’s pregnancy. Many suggestions have been made, some good, some great, and some downright strange, which is to be expected when you get a bunch of science-minded people together. I mean, we cannot actually name her Symsyn because it’s short for her scientific name ofSymphalangus syndactylus.

“Hadiah. Hadifor short. It meansgiftin Malay, and siamang gibbons are from the forests of Malaysia, Indonesia, and Thailand.”

“Hadi? That’s cute,” Vanessa says.

Dad is quiet, just watching us make small talk. How is this easier than talking to him? Is it the topic or Vanessa? I’m not sure, but it isinfinitely more comfortable than talking to Dad. Maybe because, for all her faults, I don’t have a bad history with Vanessa, and since I’m not close to Dad, I’ve never been particularly close to her either. She’s Dad’s wife, nothing more and nothing less. Plus Caprice, and by extension, her daughter, is one of my favorite topics.

“Hurry! Get there!” a voice shouts amid the pounding footsteps of what sounds like a herd of buffalo.

Suddenly, two groups of people—one, the Blizzard players, and the other, a family with three teenage boys—comes barreling into the area, and very nearly into a picnic table. Thankfully, Rodney dives off to the side and does a front roll instead, coming up covered in dirt and grass. As he dusts his shirt off, the whole group celebrates.

“Whoo, that was close!” Anderson cheers. “But we got here first!” He thumps his chest, looking more like a posturing silverback gorilla than he’d probably appreciate hearing. For unexplainable reasons, his tie is now wrapped around his head Rambo-style, with the tail of it hanging over his right shoulder. I have no idea where his jacket went.

Actually, all of the guys are missing their jackets now, and their shirts are largely untucked. They all look quite a bit worse for wear considering it was a quick and easy scavenger hunt, not aLord of the Fliescampout. Though maybe their group dynamics were a bit more “every man for himself” than the average scavenger hunter.

There’s a round of high fives, between the players and the family, who are all grinning widely. “That was iconic,” one of the teenagers yells. Another is holding up his phone, videoing the whole thing, proclaiming he got the whole thing and they’ll definitely be viral by tomorrow.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Dad says, deadpan.

Fun is putting it mildly. For all their protestations about being here today, the Blizzard players are happily roughhousing and seem to be having a great time now. I meet Dominic’s eyes and send him a meaningful smile. He’s doing it ... fixing the team. And maybe, fixing me a little, too, I think as I cut my eyes over to Dad, making sure Dom sees him as well.

Chapter 20

Dominic

“What in the world did you do during that scavenger hunt?” Briar asks as we pull away from the zoo late that night.

“We’re competitive,” I say, as if that’s explanation enough. And in a way, it is.

We’d gone out with our checklists, not a team but a bunch of individual assholes arguing and fighting with each other about where to go first and who should be in charge. But as soon as we started to see other groups with more checkmarks than we had, our competitive natures had kicked in and we’d needed to not only finish, but finish first.

With my knowledge of where things were in the zoo from my visits there, we’d made quick work of getting from one area to the next, and by the time we had only a few items left on our list, we’d run into the Parker family. The teenagers—Hudson, Maddox, and Trey—had been excited to hunt along with us until we’d all spotted the finish line. And then, the race had been on.

Luckily, Rodney was okay after that winning front roll parkour move.

“Do you think it worked? The team building?”

I shrug. “It’s a start. Not majorly different from the competitiveness we have on the ice, but the whole thing—bitching aboutwearing suits and skipping weekend plans, sitting together and making chitchat about things that aren’t hockey, doing something fun like the scavenger hunt—all play a part in creating something different. Something better between us. Or at least I hope it will.”

“What about Kipson and Anderson?” Briar asks. “Were they about to kill each other the whole time?”

“Pretty much,” I admit, frowning hard. “They kept it together when people were around, but there was enough shit-talking under their breath to put the rest of us on edge. But no punches were thrown, no blood was shed, and no players were harmed during the course of today’s events.” I throw my voice low and flat like a narrator before one of those crazy stunt videos.