Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
IZZY
We won. 4-to-1. It was a good first game. Good plays, good puck movement, but I’m still a bundle of stress. I love watching hockey fights. I always have. And I’ve always known our players, so it’s not like I’ve only ever watched strangers go at it. But something about watching Zach fight… it has me all jumbled up inside. It was exciting to watch. And - if I’m being honest - I enjoyed it. I think this stress comes from worry. Worry about him getting hurt. Which is stupid. He’s an adult. He’s been doing this for years. He doesn’t need me coming along acting like this is the end of the world. It’s a hockey fight, not MMA brawling.
I wiggle my fingers, and exhale a slow breath. Time for me to snap out of it.
I’ve been waiting in one of the back hallways for Dad to wrap up his post-game interview. Finally spotting him, I step away from the wall and head his way.
“Hey, Daddy! Great game!”
“Thanks, Peanut.” He greets me with a smile and a hug. “I think we’re going to have a fun season.”
“I think you’re right. The guys played like they’ve been together for years. It was almost like there weren’t any new players.”
Dad grunts and tosses his arm around my shoulders as we walk away from the locker rooms.
I try to act casual. “Speaking of new players, how’s Zach?”
“Zach?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, Zachary Hunt.” I swallow hard, hoping my casual use of his name doesn’t tip dad off to my roiling conscience.
Chuckling, he says, “I know who Zach is, dear. What do you mean how is he? He’s fucking brilliant!”
Even though he can’t see me, I still roll my eyes. “I meant, is he hurt? That was quite the fight.”
“Sure was! But if you were watching the same fight that I was, you’d know he’s fine. Those Florida boys didn’t get a single hit in!”
“Yeah, no thanks to his own team.” I mutter.
Dad leans into me. “You know how it is. He’s still the new guy, and one with a mighty fierce reputation at that. He had to prove himself. I’d say he did a damn fine job of doing that tonight. He and Ash had already become buddies, and - based off the back-slaps and jokes that I just witnessed in the locker room - I think it’s safe to say everyone else has accepted him too.”
“Good,” I reply, feeling my shoulders lower, unconsciously releasing the tension.
I realize my mistake a second too late. My dad still has his arm slung around me, so he felt my movement.
“I promise you, he’s okay. Not a scratch on him,” Dad tells me, with a softer tone.
“Yeah, I know. I believe you. It’s not like I’m worried. Just didn’t want you damaging your new investment so soon.”
Dad booms out a laugh. “Uh huh.” He does not sound convinced.
“So, did you and Zach ever hook up?”
I choke on air. “What?!”
I dare a look up at my dad and he’s giving me some hard side-eye. “You said you’d help him buy a house.”
Relief washes through me. This is what resurrection must feel like. For a second there, I thought I was dead from mortification.
“Yep. Yes. We did. I mean he did. Buy a house.”
Ohmygod. Do you think my dad would notice if I walked over and banged my head against the wall a few times?
“He bought one already?”
I don’t know if my dad is giving me some grace by ignoring my psychosis, or if he's truly oblivious. Either way, I’ll run with it.
I nod. “Emma says they’re signing next week. He put an offer on the very first house she showed him. Not that surprising since he seemed right at home as soon as he walked in the front door. It’s a beautiful home.”
“You went with?”
Shit. Shoot. Damn.
“Yeah, of course - ” I play it off.
“You don’t usually go with for house showings.”
Goddamnit. I would’ve sworn he doesn’t remember half the stuff I say, but maybe I’ve assumed wrong.
Shrugging, I try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I hadn’t seen Emma in a while, and I wanted to catch up. Plus the house was so close that it seemed silly not to go.”
There, crisis averted.
“Close? So he’ll be your neighbor?”
Oh. My. God. I’m going to stop talking now.
I give a noncommittal sound. Which is stupid, since there’s clearly a definite answer to his question.
Time to change the topic.
“Are we going to go to Puck Off for dinner? I’m freaking starving. I spilled my candy during the game and even though she offered I didn’t want to eat all of Mary’s popcorn. I thought about going up for a snack before the last period, but didn’t want to ruin dinner. So, basically I’ve been planning my order for the last 30 minutes.” I figure if I just keep talking about food, then I can’t possibly say anything else about Zach.
Dad takes the bait and tells me all about what he’s craving.
Getting into Dad’s car, I pray to the gods of mercy that I can keep the topic off of Zach for the remainder of the night. The last thing I need is my dad asking me a direct question about Zach and me. My karmic balance can’t handle lying to my father.
