by Kate Meader
The guy dating “girls of all sizes” for his screenplay research. She loved when the getting-to-know-you segment of the date focused on her favorite snack foods. What a loser.
“Since that guy, I went out with the modesty sock costumer—remember him? He got up close and personal with Sam Heughan’s best bits on Outlander.” Great stories, zero chemistry.
“Right! So, you have some odd dating experiences. This should be no different. Keep Sadie weird! Maybe get some hints about LonelyHeart? A social media handle? A nickname? Stalk him like a millennial, bitch.”
Sadie laughed, glad of the release, then waited a beat. “It’s gone really quiet in the other room, so I’d better check on Lauren.” She bent over, taking her phone with her and checked the bottom drawer. Locked. Hmm.
“I know it’s tough. You will get through this, and if you need any help managing Allegra, let me know. I can run point for you here.”
“Okay, thanks. Catch you later.”
She pressed finger pads to her eyes. What a nightmare. She put LonelyHeart and Allegra and her father out of her mind and focused on Lauren, who had gone through months of upheaval since her mom’s death. Now here she was with both parents out of the picture, one dead, one in the pokey.
She walked out to the living room, though this time Cooper didn’t follow. When she looked behind she saw why—he was too busy taking a big old dump on the Persian rug in her father’s study. Fabulous! She couldn’t even leave it to Mrs. Braithwaite and the weekly maid service had stopped months ago.
Abandoning the stench with a closed door, she checked on Lauren. A lamp lay overturned on the floor, miraculously unbroken. One of the throw pillows was slashed, as if someone was looking for hidden treasure—or her father’s ill-gotten gains. If only.
“Were you using something sharp?’
Lauren ignored her and continued carving up the air with her hockey stick.
“Lauren! What happened to the cushion? And could you pick up this lamp?”
Her sister carried on with the ninja demonstration. Sadie peered down at Cooper who looked on the scene with a weariness Sadie felt in her bones, then promptly threw up like a champ.
Perfect.
The next morning, Sadie headed toward the Dead-Tree Room, her eyes unavoidably drawn to the beautifully-framed photos of the perfect family that lined the hallway’s walls. While there were a few pictures of the three of them, most of them where of Zoe and Lauren together. The happiness was tangible, a bright spot in this sad house.
She pushed the living room door ajar and watched Lauren for a moment.
This kid was a stranger to her. Totally Sadie’s fault. She understood that. Sadie reminded her father of her unfaithful mother, and for the years after she died, he’d only ever looked at her with disdain. Once Zoe entered the picture, they became a united force in building a bubble for the two of them, one that excluded Sadie. Zoe wasn’t awful. She just didn’t have the patience for a teen double-whammied with grief and puberty, and her priorities were clear: her marriage and her newborn child.
Sadie had let her misery at being abandoned by her father poison her life for the last ten years. It had blocked any chance of developing a relationship with Lauren. There was no room for sibling love, not when Sadie needed all the space in her heart for bitterness.
“Hey, you okay?”
No answer, which was enough reason for Sadie to invade Lauren’s space. No kid could expect privacy—that she remembered from her own childhood no matter how much she screamed at her father and stepmom.
Lauren sat in one corner of the sofa, a pencil in her hand as she shaded in a section on a drawing pad. They needed to talk about a plan for moving. Sadie would need Lauren’s help to pack up the house before the auction in less than a month. So far she had left the living room only to use the bathroom or get food from the kitchen, mostly cereal and Pop-Tarts, even though Sadie had made a gorgeous salad last night.
“I’m going to put in an online grocery order. Anything you want?”
Nothing.
“Maybe you can download the app and we can share a cart? That way you can add stuff when you think of it and I won’t forget anything.”
Lauren said, “’kay.”
Progress! “So what are you drawing?” Art had saved Sadie as a child and her heart lifted at the possibility they could bond through this. She moved closer, happy that Lauren didn’t make any effort to hide what she was working on. It was well done, a caricature of Disney’s Maleficent, somewhat bloated yet oddly familiar.
“Who’s that?” The words were hardly out of her mouth and she knew. Sadie, a fat Maleficent. “Thanks for giving me cheekbones.”
Lauren’s lips curled beneath her dark wave of hair.
“Mrs. Braithwaite left.” Yesterday, but Lauren hadn’t asked about her.
“Good,” was Lauren’s response, but then she looked up, her brow wrinkled. “I need my hockey gear washed.”
“Hockey gear?”
“Hockey camp starts tomorrow.”
Sadie perked up. Camp? That sounded like an overnight thing, possibly multiple overnights. With any luck it was already prepaid. Not that she wanted rid of her sister but … she wanted rid of her sister. At least while she packed up this mausoleum.
“Where’s this camp?”
“In Riverbrook, with the Rebels.” Excitement tinged her voice, a significant change from her usual bored state.
“So, you go and stay there for a week or two?”
“Two weeks. You have to drive me there, every day.”
Damn, a day camp. Riverbrook was in the suburbs. “I don’t know, Lauren. We have to start thinking about next steps. Like going to LA.”
“My life is here with Dad. You’re not part of it.”
“It’s not as easy as that. You’re my responsibility now. Unfortunately, I have other responsibilities back home. My life is there and for a while, you’ll have to live with me.”
Lauren looked mutinous or like she was going to cry. Sadie wasn’t sure which she’d prefer. Tears might be more liberating. Let them have it out.
“I’m not living with you. I’m staying here and waiting for Dad to come back.”
“Could be a while,” Sadie muttered and instantly regretted it.
Lauren grabbed a box of Pop-Tarts from a spot on the sofa and ripped it open.
“Is that the regular diet of hockey players?”
“It is of this one,” Lauren said.
Sadie snorted. Okay, hockey girl. She needed to make a concession here. If Lauren wanted to do this camp, she could, but she would be doing her own laundry.
“You’d better find your gear, then.”
9
The Chicago Rebels hockey camp was run by a team of youth coaches, with the pro players dropping in for a couple of hours on one of the days. This camp was different because Kershaw specifically asked Isobel if he could spend the entire week of this session with the kids as his little brother had signed up. They were also a couple of men down in the trainers’ roster. Despite what Isobel said, Gunnar suspected these kids wouldn’t know him from a hole in the ice. He’d been out of hockey for years, kids had the memories of goldfish, and he’d had barely any skating time with the Rebels for the three months of the season since he’d signed on.
Still, he was glad to pitch in. He liked kids. He missed being around his own and even though these kids were older, there was something comforting about watching all that potential.
Jackson Callaghan, brother to Ford, the Rebels’ right-winger, ran the camp. He went through the welcome, the rules, and introduced the pros. “No doubt you guys know Theo Kershaw, Rebels D-man. He’s here to help with blocking tactics and defensive plays. Anything to say, T? Try to keep it under thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Gunnar muttered.
Theo elbowed him affectionately. “Welcome, guys, we’re thrilled you’re here, and we can’t wait to see who’s got what it takes to go all the way to the big time. This
lump beside me is Gunnar Bond, formerly center with the Quake, now with the Rebels. G?”
Gunnar sketched a salute. “Good to see you here.”
A couple of the kids nodded, obviously shy at the notion of hanging with real pros.
Jax spoke up. “Okay, let’s run some skating drills to get warmed up. I’m going to split you into two groups.”
“Hey, Jason,” Theo called out. “C’mere.”
One of the kids skated over and accepted Theo’s fist pump. “G-man, this is my brother, Jason. He’s gonna be a defenseman like me.”
Theo sounded so pleased, and Gunnar’s heart checked, remembering that feeling. Pride in one’s family.
Gunnar held out his fist for the bump. “Great to meet you at last, Jason. Your brother never shuts up about you.”
“Really?” The kid’s green eyes went wide behind his helmet visor.
“But then he never shuts up about anything, you know?”
Jason laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Theo threw up his hands. “I’m right here, gentlemen. Okay, Jase, you’d better get going. And don’t think I’m going easy on you!”
Jason rolled his eyes and headed off to his assigned group.
“He looks like you.”
“Yep.” Theo grinned and uncharacteristically, didn’t elaborate. For once, there was no need. Things were going good for Kershaw, and no one deserved it more. Talking about your happiness had a habit of jinxing it.
For the next hour, the kids were put through their paces, mostly sprints, drills, and puck-handling. Every few minutes, Jax would invite Theo and Gunnar onto the ice to show them a particular skill, from circle skating to transitions.
Theo’s brother was pretty good, with nice pickup skills and a smooth skating motion, but Gunnar had his eye on a different kid: small, lightning fast, and way ahead of the others.
“See that?” he muttered to Theo after Fast Kid had yet again dispossessed another boy with at least six inches and twenty pounds on him.
“Yes, I do. Got ourselves a flyer there.”
About halfway through, Jax set up one-on-ones and that’s when it all went south.
One of the rules for kids this age was no checking allowed. They could get a little pushy but not overly physical while they were still so young. One of the kids—Fast Kid—went all in and practically mowed Jason down on his way to the goal.
Theo shot up, ready to defend his kid brother, and skated over with Gunnar following. Jax was already there, picking up Jason.
“You okay?”
“Fine. I’m … fine.” He sounded winded.
Jax skated over to Fast Kid and said something, to which FK shook his head and skated away. Jax followed, said something else; this time, FK heeded the words and skated back over.
“So, we’re not checking during camp. This is a no-body-contact zone.” Jax turned to FK.
“He got in my way,” was the kid’s response.
That was a surprise. Gunnar looked closer at the kid’s eyes through the visor.
“You still need to apologize,” Jax said. “No need to go at it so hard on Day 1.”
“It’s okay,” Jason said, sounding as easygoing as Theo. “She didn’t do any damage.”
“She?” Theo jerked his head to FK.
“You gonna tell me I’m good for a girl?” FK said defiantly.
Theo grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. We got any other girls here?”
Jax shook his head. “Lauren’s the only one.”
“You’re pretty quick out there,” Gunnar said to her.
She twitched her nose, but otherwise remained silent. Her right foot moved back and forth, a nod to her eagerness to escape censure. It had to be tough being the only girl in the group, though Gunnar doubted this kid would ever admit it. Show any sign of weakness and they’d be on her like vultures.
Jax would keep an eye on her but it wasn’t his job to give special consideration to particular players, not in a group of twenty rambunctious tweens. Gunnar watched as she skated away, her head held high, her motion easy. She fronted well, that was for sure. Smiling, Gunnar took a seat back on the bench.
Gunnar opened the sandwich that came with the catered boxed lunch. The future was bleak: two bites and this would be history. “Not sure this is going to be enough.”
Theo shook his head. “Vittles for littles. Growing pro hockey players can’t be expected to survive on this.”
“Looks like everyone’s fed. I’ll grab us another one.”
Gunnar headed up to the table the top of the lounge. There were three turkeys left and Fast Kid—Lauren—was hanging at the table, reading the ingredients on the box. Her dark hair had fallen out of a messy braid. Janie had loved when he braided her hair.
Shoving that memory deep, he asked, “You okay?”
Lauren nodded and returned to scrutinizing the ingredients.
“Not a turkey fan?”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“Well, turkey is most certainly not vegetarian. Didn’t you tell them before you got here?” The kids’ parents had to fill out forms with dietary restrictions before they arrived.
“My sister screwed up.” Her tone was monotonous.
Gunnar called over one of the assistants and asked him to check on the food options in back. While they waited, he made small talk. “You play hockey regularly?”
“I used to.”
“But no more?”
Stormy silver-blue eyes met his gaze. “You don’t have to talk to me.”
“I don’t? Good to know. Hate doing stuff I don’t want to do.”
Not a hint of amusement. Tough crowd.
The assistant returned. “Sorry, Gunnar, we don’t have anything, but we could remove the turkey from one of these.”
“That’s not the same. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it. Come on, Lauren, we’re taking a walk.”
Three minutes later, they cut through the players’ lounge and into the kitchen. Several of the guys were still in town—yet Isobel had recalled Gunnar, which he was starting to think was some sort of front-office-mandated let’s-fix-Gunnar shit—and came to the practice facility’s gym to work out, so the fridge was usually well stocked. “You eat cheese?”
Lauren nodded while Gunnar made a Gouda sandwich with lettuce, mayo, and red peppers. Not the most exciting combo, but better than nothing.
Gunnar whipped up a chicken breast and cheddar combo for himself, grabbed a couple of water bottles, and took a seat at the high-top counter. Lauren sat beside him and picked up her sandwich. Her mouth twitched, but before she took a bite, she muttered, “Thanks.”
“No problem. How come you went so hard out on the ice?”
“Just seeing what I’m up against.”
“And what do you think?”
She eyed him over her sandwich. “None of them are as fast as me.”
“True. Where did you play before?”
“At school in Wisconsin.” At his eyebrow raise of query, she added, “Brenfort Academy.”
Anything with academy in the title was likely a fancy prep school. “Good hockey program?”
Lauren shrugged and went back to eating.
Fair enough, the kid wasn’t chatty. But she was talented, and that made Gunnar curious.
“Who’s your favorite player in the NHL?”
She squinted at him. “Not you.”
Gunnar laughed at her honest reaction. “Not fishing for a compliment, just wondered.”
“Vadim Petrov,” she conceded. “I hoped he’d be here.”
“He’s resting up after knee surgery.”
“I heard he won’t be back in the fall. Or ever.” Evidently she took this as a personal slight.
“Knee rehab is the worst. He might still be back, and if he is, he’ll want to be in peak condition for another Cup run.” Though Vadim hadn’t officially retired, the rumor mill about his fade-out was grinding hard.
“They haven’t won big in four years. Everyone says
this team isn’t good enough for another shot at it.”
The cynicism of youth. And hard not to feel slighted as part of “this team.” “Petrov might have something to say about that. The last time he had to rehab, he had his wife training him. Isobel’s a great player. You ever see her in action?”
“Yeah, on YouTube, from years ago. But women’s hockey is going nowhere.”
“Wouldn’t say that.”
“When I go pro, it’ll be on a guy’s team. Or nothing.”
So, Fast Kid had something to prove. He liked that. He liked her, despite the surliness.
“What do your parents think about your ambition to be in the NHL?”
It was the wrong question. Her face crumpled and a mottled flush overtook her skin. “I live with my sister. For now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“She wants me out of the house so she can spend all day with her boyfriend.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“Yeah, it is. She doesn’t know I hear everything she says to him. How I’m a brat. How she wishes I was out of her way.” She took another bite, chewed it. “And she’s usually doped up to her eyeballs, so I suppose all the crap she thinks about me has to come out.”
Gunnar froze. “Doped up to her eyeballs?”
“Her boyfriend’s a dealer. Pot’s legal now but she’d rather get it from this loser. She drops me off, then goes back home to toke up all day.”
Words failed him, and Lauren stepped into the pause, suddenly the chattiest thing on the block.
“Coop’s at home, though. He’s helpless. Needs constant looking after.”
Gunnar’s lungs tightened. Jesus, a baby being looked after by a stoned sister and her dealer boyfriend? That did not sound good. That sounded terrible.
“So tell me more about your sister and her boyfriend.”
10
Sadie turned into the parking lot at the Rebels’ facility twenty two minutes late. Allegra had sent her a long rambling, text-voice message of things to do, and Sadie had spent the last two hours trying to fulfill her mistress’s bidding. Who knew purple roses were so hard to come by? Allegra had been most displeased to hear only lavender ones were available from the usual suppliers in LA.
