Page 91 of Taking Sides

“In his way.” She laughs. “He could torment me but no one else could. And vice versa. Dad worked a lot, so we relied on each other.”

“I’m sorry about your mom and that it isn’t easy with your family.” I faced my fair share of bullies, but I always had family that supported me.

“Sorry to be a Debbie Downer on your one night in Houston.”

“I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”

“Same.” She gives me a real smile. Small, but genuine.

“Tell me more about what you were like as a kid.”

I move to sit next to her and pull her against my chest as she starts to talk.

“I was pretty quiet when I was little. I followed Victor around and his friends let me hang out as long as I didn’t annoy them too much.” She yawns again, then keeps going.

She tells me about playing every sport imaginable trying to find one she was good at, how she eventually realized she loved hockey even if she wasn’t the best player, how she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after college so she started working for her brother, how she thought about her mom often but didn’t reach out because she felt like a stranger, and then finally how devastated she was when she found out she had died of cancer.

“I didn’t even know she was sick. I talked to her maybe three months earlier on her birthday and she never said anything.”

“She must not have wanted you to know.”

“I guess not, but I still can’t help but wonder how things might have been different if I’d made more of an effort. Victor completely shut her out when she left, but I could have called more or visited. I bet she would have understood how I felt being the average one in a family of high achievers. Her brother played hockey too. It’s how she met my dad.”

She turns the questions back on me, but I barely get through my elementary years when her eyes close and her breathing evens out. I reach over and turn off the bedside light and pull the covers over us.

Whitney might believe she’s average, but I’ve never met someone more extraordinary. If her dad and brother can’t see that, well then, they’re worse than I thought.

And if I need to be the one to tell her otherwise, remind her how important she is every single day, I’m happy for the job.

TWENTY-THREE

“Best behavior!” I yell to the boys as they file into the Moonshot Hockey arena. “And stick together.”

“They stopped hearing you the second we pulled into the parking lot,” Grady says with a fond smile as he watches the boys ahead of us. He glances at me. “Don’t worry. They’ll be okay. It’s possibly the only place we could have brought them that they wouldn’t be trying to sneak out and go somewhere else.”

Inside the arena, the most die-hard fans are already here, eager to get inside so they won’t miss a second of the action. It smells of popcorn and hot dogs, and there’s the faint sound of music streaming out from the ice.

It’s my first time inside the Moonshot arena, though it’s similar to a dozen others I’ve visited. Swap out the colors and the pictures of players on the walls, and it could be any team in any city in the country.

A member of the team’s marketing department leads us to a private elevator, and we go down to the basement level.

As soon as I step out behind the boys, I come face-to-face with Conrad. Or rather a photo of him. His arms are over his head in celebration, one hand holding his stick, the other clenched into a gloved fist. He’s smiling off to the distance—likely at his teammates.

My attention is pulled away only by the excited gasps and shouts of the boys.

They’re moving from one side of the hallway to the other to stare at every single photo and piece of Moonshot memorabilia. There are signed sticks and pucks, pictures of the team with celebrities and politicians.

“This was a good idea,” Grady says, hanging back with me.

“Thanks.”

“How you convinced them to spring for a box and a meet and greet with the team is beyond me.”

My face heats, and I look away. “They were happy to do it. They really like the kids.”

“The kids, huh?” Grady’s brows lift. I think he might have a very good idea what’s going on with me and Conrad, but I’m not ready to tell him as much only seconds before we enter the locker room.

“Everyone ready?” the guide asks as we get to the end of the long hallway. Music, different than what was playing upstairs, pumps out from somewhere nearby.