The Parent Playbook (Love on Thin Ice)

12. Scotty

CHAPTER 12

SCOTTY

O UCH.

As I touch the tender spot below my eye, trying to gauge the damage from Angel’s wild boot toss, a familiar voice screeches in the barn.

“ Daddy, are you okay ?” Lily’s at my side in a flash, pulling on my shirt to make me bend to show her the wound.

“I’m fine, pumpkin, nothing but a little shiner. Nothing your old man can’t handle.” I give her my best grin, even if I have to fake it because, frankly, this really smarts.

Andy, having witnessed the whole debacle from the barn door, marches over with his arms crossed, looking more like a disappointed parent than a kid.

“Mom, what happened?” His tone is all business, eyebrows knitted in a frown.

Angel throws her hands up in surrender. “It was an accident, Andy. We were playing around, and I guess I don’t know my own strength.”

Lily, still clutching my hand, turns to Andy with a dramatic sigh. “Remember that viral video on VidHits? They were being silly, trying to knock things off Dad’s head with a boot. It’s not safe , you know. A chancla won’t take out an eye like a boot heel. ”

“These are real wood heels!” Andy holds up the boot as he walks it over to Angel. “You both should know better. What if you’d given Scotty a concussion? What then?”

I stifle a laugh at their role reversal, their serious little faces trying so hard to school us in proper behavior. “You’re right, buddy. We’ll keep the boot throwing to a minimum from now on. Or at least aim better, right, Angel?”

Angel bites her lip, that lip which was so close to mine a few moments ago. “Right, no more boots. Just regular old ranch repairs.”

Andy, apparently satisfied with our chastened responses, claps his hands. “Okay, it’s nearly dinner time. Let’s clean up and get inside.”

“Come on, Andy.” Lily releases my hand but has an eyebrow raised. “Let’s make the table while these two think about what they’ve done.”

They trot off toward the house, heads together, plotting their next move or perhaps swapping notes on how to keep their wayward parents in line.

As they disappear inside, I turn to Angel, rubbing the back of my neck. “Guess we got told, huh?”

She laughs, and the sound of it eases the sting of my bruise. “Those two should run the ranch. They seem to have everything under control.”

“Yeah,” I agree, watching the door swing shut behind them, “or at least keep us from turning it into a circus.”

The pain under my eye throbs as we tidy up, but it fades when we get inside the coziness of the house. Angel’s maternal instincts—or maybe her common sense—kick into high gear and she nudges me toward the kitchen sink. “Let’s clean that up.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“You look like you’ve gone a few rounds with a heavyweight. Hold still while I wash the boot muck off your cheek.” I never would have guessed that washing muck could be so tender, but her touch is that of a feather, her breath warming my neck as she brushes a cloth along my skin.

“Looks clean, but it’s swelling.” I grimace as she rummages through the freezer, finally emerging victorious with a pack of frozen peas. “Here,” she says, pressing the chilly makeshift ice pack against the side of my face. “Hold this on it.”

The cold bite of the peas makes me hiss through my teeth. “Thanks, I think.”

She stands close, her hands careful as she adjusts the bag to cover the swelling. Our eyes meet, and there’s a softness in hers that makes my chest tighten.

“Not exactly how I thought that moment was going to end,” I say.

Angel steps back to survey her handiwork. “Well, you’ve been doing a lot of the fixing around here. Guess it’s my turn to look after you.”

“It’s just a bruise,” I say, but the throbbing pain suggests otherwise. “Though, I have to admit, it stings. How about we forget this happened and boil the peas for dinner instead?”

She brushes a stray hair from my forehead. “You’re a terrible patient.”

I manage a lopsided grin, holding the peas in place. “Guess I’m not used to being cared for. Besides, what am I going to tell the guys?”

“You could say a rogue tractor nearly took you out.”

“Or I could say a beautiful woman had poor aim.”

Where did that come from? And did it really come out of my mouth?

The words hang in the air, heavier than I intended, and a blush creeps up my neck. After a moment, Angel’s laughter fills the kitchen, and she leans in slightly. “Make sure you clarify it was an accident, or they’ll start thinking you have a weird taste in women.”

A choking-style laugh escapes me. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that getting around. ”

Andy’s voice interrupts from the other room. “What are you two doing? The oven’s beeping like crazy!”

Angel rolls her eyes, still smiling. “Duty calls. Let’s go feed the beasts.”

Dinner at Angel’s place has a certain chaotic charm that’s both comforting and completely foreign to me. As we gather around the table, plates heaped with steaming lasagna, the air buzzes. Andy and Lily are practically bouncing in their seats, chatting about Maple Fest with the sort of enthusiasm usually reserved for the first day of summer.

I listen, chuckling as they plot their course through every festival activity, from the pie-eating contest to the corn maze. They lay out their strategy with the seriousness of generals planning a battle, deciding which events to hit first and how to maximize their candy haul.

Once again, I feel like we’re on the edge of something, but I don’t know how to cross that line. We’ve only just met, and feelings like this are usually reserved for relationships that have gone through the test of time. So why does it feel so normal to have her close to me?

But the wholesomeness of this is real . It’s been a long time since I’ve been part of something that feels so fundamentally normal. There’s a part of me—a part I’ve muted since Corrie passed—that dreams of days like this. Simple, happy family dinners, filled with laughter and light-hearted debates about who will win the pumpkin carving contest.

The easy back-and-forth, the shared glances between Angel and me—they knit something tighter in my chest. There’s a sense of belonging that I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. It’s more than fun—it’s a glimpse of a life that might be possible.

And I want it so badly.

Angel catches my eye across the table, her smile wide as she listens to her son detail his previous Maple Fest victories. “Sounds like the kids have it all figured out. Right, Scotty?”

“Sure does.” I nod and cross my arms in my mock serious- dad look. “But we’re still going to chaperone to be safe. Make sure these two don’t get into too much trouble.”

The kids roll their eyes in unison, a perfectly choreographed move that makes me laugh. “Whatever,” Andy retorts. “It’s probably us who should be chaperoning you two .” He waggles his finger in my face.

He’s on to something there.

As dinner winds down and we clear the table together, the kids rush off to plan their festival route, leaving Angel and me in a peaceful quiet. “Thanks for helping with the dishes,” she says, bumping my hip with hers as we load the dishwasher.

“It’s nice, you know,” I start, then pause, trying to put my finger on the feeling. “Being here, like this. Real nice.” The word doesn’t quite cover everything I’d like to say, but it’s a start.

Angel gives me a look then, her expression both thoughtful and uncertain. “It feels awfully normal, doesn’t it?” she replies with a hint of surprise, as if the idea snuck up on her, too.

We wrap up in the kitchen without talking, just the sounds of dishes clanking and water running. Once we’re done, we head out to get some fresh air. It’s cooler now. Andy and Lily are tearing up the yard, all that kid energy lighting up the place even as it gets dark. I lean on the porch railing, watching them goof around, their laughs cutting through the quiet evening like fireworks.

Angel stands next to me, her arms crossed against the chill.

“They’re good kids,” I comment, more to say something than anything else.

“Yeah, they are,” she agrees with a kind of wistfulness that I recognize. She turns to look at me and I know she sees it too. Our kids are growing up faster than we want them to.

Andy’s pragmatic voice cuts through my sense of nostalgia.

“Lily, remember we have that math worksheet due tomorrow,” he calls out, his tone sprinkling a dose of reality into the evening.

Lily rolls her eyes but nods, tugging at my hand. “C’mon, Dad. We better get going. Homework doesn’t do itself, unfortunately.”

Angel and I share a wry smile, our moment of connection gently severed by the practicalities of parenting.

“All right, boss,” I reply, ruffling Lily’s hair, which earns me a playful swat of her hand.

“Goodnight, Scotty. We’ll see you for Maple Fest.” Angel gives me a wink that could mean many things, but Lily drags me off before I have a chance to figure out which one it is.

As we walk to the truck, Lily’s chatter shifts from school assignments to the deeper waters she’s been navigating lately. Once we’re both settled in the truck, she buckles up and turns to me with a seriousness that seems beyond her years.

“So, Dad, you and Angel seem to laugh a lot,” she starts, her tone casual but probing. “I like it.”

I grip the steering wheel. My girl has been observing me. “Yeah. She’s, um, she’s great company.” I’m fumbling for the right words without diving too deep.

Lily looks out the window, then back at me. “And Angel makes you really laugh. Not the polite ‘ha-ha,’ but real laughs. Like when you and Mom used to play those board games.”

I can’t stop the smile, remembering. “That’s true. Hey, laughter’s important, right?”

“Super important,” Lily agrees with a decisive nod. “It’s like in those movies you love—doesn’t everyone need a good sidekick to share adventures and laughs with?”

Her analogy makes me chuckle. “I make a pretty good sidekick, huh?”

“You’re more than a sidekick, Dad,” Lily says, giving me a knowing look. “But we’ll see how things go.”

“We’ll see,” I echo, wondering how it ended up that I’m grateful for her letting me off the hook.

The car is quiet for a moment. But Lily breaks it with words that are barely more than a whisper. “It’s okay to laugh with someone, Dad. Mom loved it when we laughed. ”

Why does it sting so much to hear these words from her?

“I know you’re right, Lilybug.” My voice catches. “Mom would want us to find moments of happiness where we can.”

We fall silent again.

“Dad—” I’m afraid to hear the question. “—if you were a superhero, what would your superpower be? I mean, besides taking a boot to the eye like a champ.”

The question catches me off guard and I laugh, the sound coming out lighter than I’ve felt in a while. “Probably the ability to transform into a T-Rex and scare off squirrels from the attic.”

“A T-Rex is too big to go in the attic.”

“Okay, a magical T-Rex then. What about you?”

Lily ponders this, tapping her chin theatrically. “Easy. The power to eat unlimited ice cream without ever getting a brain freeze.”

“Now that’s a power I’d like to have, too,” I admit as we turn into the lodge’s driveway. “Hey, speaking of ice cream, how about we grab some at the Maple Fest? Could be our own little celebration.”

“Oh, Dad.” She shakes her head. “If you’re going to end up marrying Angel, then you’d better know that Maple Fest is more corn on the cob than ice cream.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw just hit the floor.

It’s the next morning at the rink, and I push through the doors with the sort of anxiety usually reserved for facing off against a team of bruisers—not my own teammates. But sporting a shiner that’s as dark as a puck on fresh ice, I know I’m going to have to handle some comments.

The locker room falls silent as I step in, the usual pre-practice banter cutting off as every eye lands on the purpling testament to my night.

“Scotty, man, who did you go ten rounds with?” Ted drops his bag and rushes over to check out my face.

I make a noise that vaguely resembles a laugh as I ease into my spot by my locker. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t a who, but a what. And let’s say I underestimated the opposition.”

“Come on, spill it,” Cooper chimes in, leaning against his locker. “You can’t walk in here looking like you’ve been in a bar fight and not give us the details.”

With a dramatic sigh, I start unlacing my skates, playing up the moment. “Well, if you must know, it was a boot.”

“A boot?” Dawson, our goalie, almost howls with laughter. “What kind of boot takes down Scotty MacFarland?”

“It was a minor ranch mishap.” I regret it as the words leave my mouth. I know these guys—they are going to latch onto that like peanut butter on jelly.

The locker room erupts with hoots and hollers. “What, did she think you were a snake or something?” Doug teases, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Don’t tell me you were getting fresh with her?” Cooper snaps a towel at me. “Scotty MacFarland still has it!”

“Oh, please. Nothing like that. We were …” — trying to reenact a viral video of flip-flop tossing online challenge— “… She was aiming for a box of screws on my head from across the barn.”

Ted spits his mouthful of water. “Now we know for sure you’ve got a screw loose.”

“Sounds like she’s got quite the arm,” Noah adds. “Or terrible aim.”

Dan leans back against his locker, a smug grin on his face. “Maybe we need to get her on the ice. She can teach us a thing or two about shooting.”

“Or at least how to duck.” Cooper sniggers from the other side of the room.

The ribbing goes on, but the truth is, I’ve pretty much forgotten about the boot. What I remember is that moment when she rushed into my arms, the look in her eyes that told me she felt the same thing I did.

And then she pushed me away.

I clutch my clipboard and put on my mock-stern voice. “Just remember, boys, if you see any pucks flying around, stop it with your stick and not your face.”

Cooper is the last guy out with me, and as we reach the ice, he purses his lips at me. “I’m glad for you, Scotty.”

“Glad I can still take a shiner like in the old days?”

He smacks my shoulder. “Glad you’ve found a girl you can throw boots with.”

“No, no. I haven’t found anything. It’s not like that …” I protest, but Cooper is already skating onto the ice.

“Sure, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.”