Page 126 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter
“I brought this,” Oliver says. He extends a bottle of wine to her. “I’m not old enough to drink, and neither is Sydney, of course. But my mom gave it to me for you.”
“This is perfect, thank you, Oliver.” She winks at us. “We can have a taste at dinner.”
We shed our jackets, kick off snowy boots, and follow her into the house. Sure enough, the patio off of the kitchen is clear of snow, the grill at the edge creating a haze of heat just above the closed lid.
“Sounds good, Mrs. Windsor.”
She frowns. “Please call me Perri, Oliver.”
He dips his head.
Dad comes around the corner and immediately glares at his captain. Oliver straightens his spine and frowns back.
“Hey, Dad,” I interrupt.
Oliver looks away first. Dad hugs me, smacking a loud kiss to my cheek.
“Thanks for coming,” he says in my ear. Then he focuses back on Oliver. “Ruiz, we’re going to talk about how you handle girls breaking into your house.”
Oh, shit. My eyes go wide, and I start to shake my head?—
“I didn’t handle it the best, sir,” Oliver admits. “I’ve already apologized to Sydney.”
I have a feeling my apology came last night…
“He did,” I blurt out. “He apologized.”
Dad grunts.
Perri’s laugh fills the kitchen, and she touches Oliver’s arm. They head for the fridge to get drinks for everyone, and I glower at my father.
“I don’t really need backup for something that happened months ago,” I say quietly.
“Men on my hockey team need to learn how to treat women before they’re set loose on the world,” he replies.
My heart gives a weird little thump at that. The thought of Oliver somewhere, playing professional hockey, living a life that doesn’t include us. Me.
“When do you guys leave for those away games next week?”
We move to the bar stools at the island. He leans on one, while I sit.
“Mid-afternoon flight on Friday, but it’s a quick one. An hour up and down. The team will have their morning skate at our arena, and then we fly back directly after the Sunday game.” His attention wanders to his wife. “Perri is coming with me this time. If you feel like you want to get out of your apartment, you’re welcome to stay here.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
He smiles. “We’ll get you a spare key before you leave.”
“The team can miss Friday classes?”
“They get excused as long as their grades don’t slip. They’re required to keep a two-point-five grade point average, so making up work is essential.” He lifts one shoulder. “Not exactly my idea of putting education first, but I don’t make that rule.”
I guess I can count on taking notes for Penn in our Intro to Law class.
Oliver returns with a beer for my dad and soda in a glass for me.
“You’re not dating, right?” Dad asks him.
I choke on my drink.