O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

FOSTER

E veryone fucks up, boys.

My mom worked two jobs when my brother and I were kids and as a result we spent a lot of time with our grandfather. He drove us to and from hockey practices and taught us to drive as soon as our legs were long enough to reach the pedals.

He also smoked like a chimney, swore like a sailor, and showed us R-rated movies that were far from age-appropriate.

But he made a mean mac and cheese and he taught Cody and me a lot about life, including accountability.

One day, we were taking shots in our driveway and I fired off a puck so hard it went through our living room window. My brother and I immediately went into damage control mode, trying to come up with a plausible lie that would prevent us from being punished.

When Gramps came out, it was Cody that had the genius idea to claim it was a bird. I watched my older brother swear that a bluejay broke the glass and then flew away .

Our grandfather was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. He said nothing as he looked between our lying faces. Eventually, I cracked under the pressure like any nine-year-old would, crying and admitting that I’d been the one to break it.

He’d ruffled the hair on our sweaty heads and then helped us clean up the broken glass.

“Everyone fucks up, boys. It’s how you handle the fuck up that counts,” he’d said afterwards over ice cream.

Gramps died when I was sixteen, but his pearls of wisdom always seem to come back to me when I need them most.

Like right now. I fucked up with Beth and I am bound and determined to make things right.

Some people would tell me to approach the situation delicately. After all, we haven’t known each other long and I don’t want to come on too strong. But I’m too eager to repair the damage I caused last night to care what the sensible response is. So when she emerges from her bedroom at nine o’clock Saturday morning, I’m there ready to pounce.

“Good morning,” I say as she pads into my kitchen in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, looking surprised to see me.

“Good morning,” she answers timidly. Weaving her fingers together and looking up at me through her long eyelashes she says, “I’m sorry for last night.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I insist. “I was out of bounds.”

“But I overreacted.”

“Only because I overstepped. ”

She pushes her hair back from her face and gives me a sheepish smile. “So we were both out of bounds?”

I grin. “Sure. But me more so than you. You get off with a warning. I’m in the penalty box.”

“Alright then,” she rolls her eyes.

“So we’re good?”

She regards me for a long moment before nodding. “We’re good.”

From her hesitation I get the distinct impression that we’re not one hundred percent, but I’m not going to pull on that thread right now. “Good.”

Beth takes a seat on a stool at the breakfast nook before asking, “What are you up to today?”

I glance at my watch before responding, “I’ve got ice time booked in less than an hour.”

“Ah. Just you?”

“Just us.”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Her head tilts to the side and she looks up at me like I’m speaking in foreign tongues. “Why would I go with you to your practice?”

“Because it’s not my practice, it’s yours. Beth Michaels, today you learn how to skate.”

Her entire body freezes, with the exception of her face which contorts into an expression so horrified, it’s almost comical.

“Oh…no. No. No. Thank you, but that’s going to be a no.”

“Beth–”

“Absolutely not, Foster. ”

“Why not?” I was expecting reluctance, not outright refusal.

“Ohhh, so many reasons,” her laughter is forced as she hops off the stool and walks around me to pour herself some coffee.

“Such as?”

Turning on me with a stony look in her eyes she says, “I don’t want to.”

I don’t buy it for a second.

“You said that you needed to learn for work.”

“I’m sure I can think of a way to get out of Skate Day. And even if I can’t, it’s my problem to deal with, not yours.”

I open my mouth to argue more, when the reality of the situation hits me: once again, I’m taking the decision out of her hands instead of letting her fight her own battles. Once again, I assumed that she wanted me to swoop in and solve her problems for her.

Gramps was right. Everyone fucks up and I am on a roll.

“Of course. I honestly thought I was helping. If you don’t want to learn to skate, I’m not going to push the issue. I’m sorry, again.”

Beth sets her mug down, rests her elbows on the counter, and buries her face in her hands. “No, I’m sorry for being an asshole. I do want to learn,” she groans through her fingers. “But it’s too late for me. I’m too old.”

I let out a bark of laughter and she lifts her head to glare at me. “I’m sorry, but you’re twenty-six years old. That’s not too old.”

“It’s too old to learn basic things like skating, swimming, or how to ride a bike. ”

I shake my head. “One of my goalie coaches just learned how to swim last year. He’s thirty-seven.” When she gives me a dubious look, I continue, “I swear. He wanted to do a triathlon before he turned forty so he had to take swimming lessons.”

She worries her bottom lip as she mulls this information over. I’m dying to sell her on this, but I hold my tongue not wanting to push her into something she doesn’t want to do.

Beth studies her fingernails. “I’ll probably fall down a lot.”

I’ll catch you every time.

“Probably,” I say instead. “But I’ll teach you how to get back up.”

“Will you laugh at me when I fall?”

I step forward and stop her fidgeting by taking her hand in mine. When she looks up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes I hold her gaze and say, “Only if you look hilarious when it happens.”

She shoves me away, giggling as she does.

“And I’ll buy you hot chocolate after the lesson.” I can’t help but toss that in to sweeten the deal.

Beth squares her shoulders and rests her hands on her hips, causing her oversized sweater to bunch around her. “You really want to teach me to skate?”

God yes.

“If you want to learn, then yeah.”

Her sigh is deeper than Lake Superior, but when it ends, she nods. “It had better be really good hot chocolate.”

“Oh my gosh! Look at that one!” Beth points at another tall pine tree as I drive to the rink. It’s the fourth “perfect” Christmas tree she’s spotted.

“Yup,” I confirm with a nod. “That’s a tree, alright.”

She rolls her eyes at me before looking out the window again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you like Christmas?”

I frown at the highway in front of me. “I don’t dislike it,” I answer with a shrug. “I liked it well enough when I was a kid. I guess I just associate it with family and I don’t have one anymore, so…”

I focus on the road, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and needlessly changing lanes for something to do. It feels like it’s been years since anyone has asked about my family and I’m out of practice.

Feeling Beth’s eyes on me, I turn my head in her direction. Those bottomless eyes I find myself thinking about so often, are brimming with sadness.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “My grandfather died when I was a teenager and I lost my mom a year later. I’ve got a brother, but…”

He hates my guts.

She’s still looking at me intently so I clear my throat and offer, “We had a falling out.”

“How long has it been since you talked to him?”

“Ten years.”

She looks so gobsmacked that I have to smile. “I’m sorry, I just…can’t imagine,” she sputters. “If I don’t text my sisters at least once a day, I’m pretty sure they’d file a missing persons report. ”

I would too , I think glancing over at her. She looks lost in thought, her gaze downcast as she fidgets with her fingers. I’ve noticed she does that when she’s anxious—pressing on one fingernail, then moving to the next, over and over again.

“You miss them?” I ask.

She nods. "I know it probably sounds pathetic since I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I really do. I’ve never lived away from home before."

“It’s not pathetic at all.”

I pull into the parking lot of the complex we’re skating at. There are three separate ices here and the parking lot is packed. I circle the lot as I look for a free spot to park.

“Exactly how many people are going to witness my downfall this morning?” Beth asks noting the number of cars.

“I prefer to call it your impending triumph.” I find a free space and pull in. “And just me. I know the manager pretty well and have helped him out several times over the years. We’ve got one of the smaller rinks to ourselves for an hour.”

Her head nods, but her lips remain sealed together.

“Hey,” I prompt, softly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

She appears to consider my offer for a moment before nodding again, this time with conviction. “No. I want to do this.”