Page 59 of Scoring Chance

“Don’t worry. You’re going to find something.” Des pulls me into a hug and rocks us. It melts my stress away, as does looking into those swoony eyes of his. “Send me your resume. I’ll look it over.”

“Yep.” I pull back before I let myself get lost in his warm hug forever. “Davy! Time to go to practice!”

Davy hops up from the TV. He’s got his hockey bag and is ready to go. The dad locomotive never stops.

He’s all wiggly excitement in the backseat, chattering about the new hockey moves Des taught him.

I let his energy wash over me. It helps.

Practice is at Summers Rink, the same place where The Comebacks play. It smells like old skates and freeze-dried sweat. I love it. Familiar. Predictable. I watch Davy push onto the ice to join his teammates.

Griffin waves from near the penalty box, dressed in his referee gear. He’s been volunteering at practices for a few months now. Before we made him join The Comebacks last spring, he hadn’t touched a hockey stick or an ice skate in over twenty years. He lost his eye in a pivotal high school game and had to kiss his NHL dreams goodbye in an instant. But now that he’s rediscovered his love of the game, he’s wanted to get more involved.

He might be blind in one eye, but sees all on the ice. The kids and coaches don’t second guess his calls. The eye patch and grizzled bear and hulking frame make him one intimidating ref.

I walk over and lean on the boards beside him.

“Hey, man. Davy looks good out there.”

Davy swooshes around the ice with excitement and energy, each push-off from his skate fortifying him. He loves hockey in a way I don’t know if I ever did.

“He’s been working hard. Doing drills with Des afterschool.”

“Is he trying out for the traveling team?”

“Yep.” I refuse to think about the added cost of competitive hockey. I’ll find a way to afford it.

“In my unbiased opinion, I think he has a great shot at making the team. He’s great out there. Fast, determined.”

“He gets that from his mom.”

We watch in companionable silence for a moment before he clears his throat.

“How are things going with your husband?” he asks with a smirk. “Are you guys ready to clobber each other?”

“Actually…I hooked up with Des.”

Griffin turns slowly, his thick eyebrows raising. “What?”

It’s probably something I should keep to myself, but I’m dying to discuss with someone, and Griffin isn’t the gossipy type.

“Last night,” I say. “After movie night. We were sharing the bed, and…it just happened.”

“You’re sharing a bed? How seriously are you taking this?”

“My couch—it’s a long story. We were just supposed to share the bed, but stay on our side.”

“Holy shit.” Griffin whistles.

“I feel insane.”

“I hooked up with a twenty-something shithead hockey player, so I’m no better.” He cracks a smile. That shithead is his wonderful boyfriend Jack, and the two of them are adorable together, even if it’s hard to imagine the words “Griffin” and “adorable” in the same sentence.

“It’s a little weird. Do you think Des is freaked out about what happened?”

“Nah.” Griffin answers with such ease I do a double take.

“You think so?”