I sit next to her, and for the next few minutes, I lean into her and explain the game, even drawing a few plays on her pad. Then I talk about the icing call after the ref blows his whistle.
“Interesting,” she says, but seems a bit distracted. She’s not the only one; her closeness is fucking me over, big time. “I’ll be right back.” She slips outside to flip the steaks, and I sort of feel useless.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” I ask when she comes back in.
“You are helping me. Okay, what did I miss?”
“Not much, really.” Her eyes narrow when Burns shoves a guy hard into the boards.
“Ouch. That can’t be allowed.”
“Oh, it’s allowed. It’s called checking, and that guy is a pro at it.” I point to my head. “That’s how I got this.”
Her mouth drops open, her indignant gaze going from me to Burns, back to me. “He did that to you?” Anger flares in her eyes, and I’m a little touched by her concern, actually.
“Yup.”
“Then why is he still playing? Shouldn’t he be benched?”
“Hey, you know more about hockey than you think.”
She beams at me, and I like that so much more than her death glare. “I know the term from figure skating.”
“Good. Write down that he had to sit in the penalty box, that’s what it’s called. Oh, and he spent all of five minutes in there.”
“Well that’s just wrong.”
“It is what it is.”
“I’d better not run into him in a dark alleyway.”
I laugh at her boldness and nudge her chin with my fist. “Are all five feet of you going to take him out for me?”
She straightens. “I’m five-two, thank you very much.” I’m about to laugh again, until she winces and puts her hand on her back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fractured tailbone. Still causes me pain.” She rolls her neck and stretches it out. “Also a damaged C-5 in my neck.”
“Then you shouldn’t be doing all this cooking, and you shouldn’t have been lifting the grocery bags,” I say, as a surge of guilt rolls over me. I shouldn’t have let her drive me to the store, then cook. Why the hell didn’t she tell me she still has pain?
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not an invalid. I can take care of myself, Cole. I have for a very long time now.”
My gut twists. Yeah, she has, and it couldn’t have been easy on her with her parents so absent and Cason on the road all the time. Could that be why she hates hockey? It took her brother away? They really only had each other growing up, and she must miss him. But even though he’s not here, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about her. He sure as fuck does.
Until he’s back, I’m going to make it my own personal mission to help her, the same way she’s helping me.
“Okay, explain that play to me,” she says, and taps her pen on her chin. I turn back to the TV, and as I talk, she makes notes. When another commercial comes on, she darts outside to check on the food.
“Medium well,” she says and comes back in with the steaks. “I hope that’s how you like them.”
“I like them any way I can get them,” I say, and rub my stomach. She fixes two plates with steak and salad, then roots around inside the fridge for dressing.
“Poppy seed, my favorite.”
“I have no idea how that got there,” I say. Maybe my twin sister left it here the last time she visited me.
She stares at the dressing for a minute, like she’s debating on whether to use it or not.