“He wasn’t?”
“Nope. Not until high school, actually. That’s when he decided he didn’t like relying on someone else to make sure the other team didn’t score. He needed the control. Anyway, he made the varsity team as a freshman and asked the coach to put him in as goalie. Coach said no, they had some hotshot senior who had claimed that position, but Brody was persistent. He asked over and over. He was the first one to show up to practice and the last one to leave. One day, about a third of the way through the season, that hotshot got hurt and his coach had no choice but to put Brody in.” She smiled and looked out the back window at something that caught her attention. I followed her gaze just in time to see Diesel and the girls run across the yard with Brody chasing after them. Smiling, she shook her head and continued. “That was Brody’s defining moment. The other team didn’t score once that game. In fact, opposing teams rarely scored on him for the rest of his high school career. College scouts started showing up at his games midway through his sophomore year. He was amazing. Once he was in that goalie box, nothing else existed.”
I’d seen that intensity. Before we started dating, I was bored one night and may have googled him. I’d quickly become mesmerized by the YouTube videos of him on the ice. He was so focused, so intense. It was as though the second his skates hit the ice, he had the ability to shut the rest of the world out and focus on what needed to be done.
“It didn’t come without sacrifice, though. He gave up a lot of his childhood for his love of hockey.”
I frowned at her inquisitively. “Like what?”
“Like high school dances. He never went to one.” Her eyes grew sad thinking back to the experiences her son had missed out on.
“None?”
“Nope. Not one homecoming, not one prom. He was even voted Snow King his senior year.”
“Snow King?”
“Yeah, for the winter dance. The girls ask the boys to the Snow Dance and they vote for a senior to be the Snow King. Brody won and he couldn’t even go to the dance because he had a tournament in Milwaukee.”
“What are you two yapping about?” Brody bellowed as he came through the back door.
“About you and your boring childhood.” JoAnn winked at him.
“Boring?” He collapsed on the chair next to me. “How was my childhood boring?”
I turned to face him. “You never went to any dances? Ever?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t know how to order a corsage if my life depended on it.” He laughed, stealing a gulp of my iced tea.
“That’s so sad.”
“Not really. Did I miss out on some things? Sure. Has it paid off for me? Hell yes.” He shrugged. “Even if I wasn’t playing hockey now, I was doing what I loved at that time. I’m not really a plan-for-the-future type of guy. I like to live in the moment.”
“You don’t say?” I teased, rolling my eyes.
He reached over and caught my bottom lip in his mouth, leaving me reeling from a quick but passionate kiss. I pushed his chest back gently, embarrassed that his mom was still sitting at the table with us. “Brody!”
JoAnn stood up from the table and went to the oven, removing a pan of freshly made chicken pot pies. “It’s okay.” She laughed. “It’s nice to see Brody showing love to something other than his hockey stick for once.”
Brody cocked an eyebrow and looked back to me as his mom walked away. Leaning in, he whispered, “I’m not the only one who likes to play with my hockey stick.”
I punched him hard in the arm and snapped my head toward his mom, praying she hadn’t heard. He laughed and stood up, walking over to the pantry where he grabbed a loaf of bread.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“Come on.” He held his hand out to me. “Let’s go grab the Twinkies and feed some ducks.”
“Not too long,” JoAnn called out as we headed out the back door. “Lunch will be ready soon.”
“Oh my God.” I laughed as I opened the wooden door to my dad’s workshop and caught a glimpse of Lucy and Piper. They had on clear safety goggles and their little arms were chugging back and forth as fast as they could go, sanding the bench of the picnic table my dad had finished building.
“What?” He held his hands up defensively. “They wanted to help.”
“There are child labor laws against this sort of thing, Dad,” I teased.
Kacie walked over and greeted my dad.
“Hi, Mr. Murphy. Good to see you again.”
“No, no. None of that. Call me Bob, please.” He bent down and gave her a quick hug. “Good to see you too. And on much better terms this time.”