Page 92 of The Tryout

“It’s why we moved here. The University of Iowa has a good program, and Elena’s sister lives here too. She’s been a big help with the kids.”

That’s definitely a little unusual. Novak’s a solid player, and could probably still play a role on several NHL teams. Is he saying he chose to play in the AHL? I get the sense there’s more to the story, but I let it drop.

The food is delicious, and I really do wish Finn were here, if for no other reason than to make sure he had a good dinner. I’m sure Ethan and Jamie are taking good care of him, but I can’t help but want to see with my own eyes.

Just like on the ice, it feels like Novak knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Have you talked much to Murphy since he went to Minneapolis? Saw he got some good playtime yesterday.”

He had. In his first game up, he ended up spending almost the entire game on Evan Matthews’ wing. Even though it’s the third line, his minutes were good and he’d had several shots on goal. I’d gone home and watched the entire game on the couch, finally falling asleep there, wrapped in the big blanket Dad had purchased.

“We’ve, uh, texted a bit. I think he’s pretty busy.”

He stares at me for a long moment, but a commotion from the other end of the table seems to save me from what he was about to say.

Millie – or is it Dia? – is complaining about bedtime, trying to negotiate with Elena to get an extra thirty minutes.

“But Avery’s here. Why do I have to go to bed?”

I smile at that, happy to have made a fan.

“Tell you what? Why don’t we get your parents to invite me back? I’ll even bring my roommate next time.”

Or, at least, I hope I’ll be able to bring him. Maybe he’ll still be in Minneapolis.

“Wait, you and Finn. Yes! Daddy, when can we?”

“Well, we’ve got to wait for him to be done helping out in Minneapolis, right angel? But the second he’s back in Des Moines, we’ll invite them both over, okay?”

Dia looks skeptical, but also – if I’m not mistaken – pretty tired.

“I guess that’s okay.”

She wanders over and gives me a hug, then kisses Novak on the cheek and follows her mom and sister upstairs.

Tomas picks up the baby, whose eyes are also starting to droop.

“Baby or dishes?”

For the second time tonight, I pick not-baby, gathering up the dishes and carrying them to the kitchen. Novak warms a bottle and feeds Rosie, pointing out where to find containers for leftovers, then directing me on loading the dishwasher “the right way”.

I’m not sure I knew there was a right way to load a dishwasher, but most of my food is eaten out of takeout containers. Wanting an invite back, I follow his directions. As Rosie finishes off the bottle, he puts her up over his shoulder, slightly bouncing her while patting her back. I wonder, for a moment, what our opponents would think seeing hard-ass Tomas Novak murmuring softly to his daughter as she burps, her eyes starting to droop. I realize I’m lucky to have been invited into this moment.

As Rosie settles in on his shoulder, smacking her lips, Tomas grabs three wine glasses out of the cabinet. Leaving one on the counter, he fills the other two, handing one to me. He leads me to the living room, where he sits down slowly, careful not to wake the now-sleeping baby.

“I’m surprised you haven’t talked to Murphy. I thought you guys were…friends.”

The pause is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence, and I wonder what Novak thinks he’s seen.

“We are. Or, I mean, friendly, I guess.”

He stares at me, his eyes narrowing a bit.

“Kinda seems more than just friendly, at least from where I’m sitting. Kinda seems like you miss him.”

I take a long sip of my wine, trying to think of a good response. I settle with the bare-bones truth.

“I do. It’s not…not as nice when he’s gone.”