Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“They’re fucking vapes!” she shouts.
I pull into the arena parking lot and find a spot, shifting into park before I turn to her. “Do not yell at me. I get that nothing about life is easy for you right now, but I didn’t make this bad decision for you.”
“You’re the one who moved us to Toronto!”
“You were on board with this move,” I remind her, then sigh. “Look, this isn’t a productive conversation. I’m heated, and you’re heated. But you can’t get suspended from school and expect there to be no punishment.”
“The suspension is the punishment.”
“The suspension is the consequence. The punishment is a result of the suspension.” I cut the engine. “Come on.”
“I’m staying here.”
“It’s minus fifteen. I’m not leaving the keys, and you’ll be frozen in five minutes. While I appreciate that you’re also unhappy with the situation you’ve put yourself in, I will not have you dying of hypothermia because you have the same stubborn gene as me,” I snap.
Her chin wobbles, and she dashes her tears away. “I need a fucking minute, okay?”
I struggle to keep myself in check, to not cry along with her. “I’m coming back out to get you in ten minutes if you’re not in the arena by then.”
“Fine.”
I open the door. “I might not love your current choice, but I love you, Fee.”
She sniffles but doesn’t say anything.
“I’ll check on you in a bit.”
I leave her in the car and head inside, where I stop in the bathroom and take a moment to get myself under control. I’m so close to a complete breakdown. I want to call Dred, but she’s at work, and calling Roman will add to the layers of complication I’m already buried under.
I get my shit together, leave the bathroom, and go to Callie’s rink. But when I get there, Callie isn’t in the net. She’s not even in her goalie gear. Instead she’s sitting in the stands behind the bench with Glenda Barton, one of the assistant coaches.
“Is everything okay?”
Glenda gives me one of those smiles that tells me everything is not okay. Callie’s arms are crossed, and she’s slumped in her seat. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Glenda pats her on the arm and meets me at the end of the row, motioning for me to follow her down the hall.
I don’t know what to do with my hands so I stuff them in my jacket pockets. When we get to her office, Glenda looks like this is the last thing she wants to handle.
“What did Callie do?” That’s the only reason I can see her being off the ice. If she was hurt in some way, Glenda wouldn’t have pulled me aside.
“She got into it with one of her teammates,” Glenda says.
“Got into it how?” I ask.
“She shoved him and pinned him to the ice when he went down.”
“Oh my gosh. Why would she do that?”
“He was chirping her. He absolutely said things that weren’t acceptable, and he’s been removed from practice today, too. But if we hadn’t pulled her off, we were worried she would have hit him.”
“I’m so sorry.” Callie is a lot of things, but violent isn’t usually one of them.
“Me, too. I wish we would have caught things sooner, and I feel awful. I know how important hockey is to Callie, but we have zero tolerance for physical violence.”
“I get it. How long is she out?” It’s her one escape, and I worry about how she’ll deal—and how I’ll manage without an after-school program for any length of time.
“Three practices.”
“Is she allowed to watch?” I ask.
“We’re asking the other player to stay home for the next two practices, and we’d ask that Callie do the same, just for some cool-off and reflection time. But after that, she can support the team by sitting in the stands if she wants.”
At least Fee will be home to help manage, so there’s that. “Okay. I understand. I’m sorry about this. I’ll have a talk with her.”
“I know you have a lot on your plate. This can’t be easy for your family.”
“I appreciate your compassion, but it certainly doesn’t excuse Callie’s behavior. I’ll impress upon her the importance of handling interactions like these with words instead of aggression.”
I return to the rink to gather Callie and her equipment, and we go out to the car.
Unlike Fee, she doesn’t give me sass. She follows along, side-eyeing me as I stride through the parking lot. I just need to get them home, dole out punishments, and have a private emotional breakdown of my own.
Fee is in the front seat, trying to use makeup to hide the fact that her eyes are puffy. “I was just coming in.” She frowns. “Practice isn’t over yet.”
“It is for Callie.” I direct her into the back seat and round the driver’s side.