“Why’d you pick one in Canada? It seems out of the way.” Kale picks a dandelion fluff out of Sunny’s hair. I want to shove it up his left nostril with my fist.
She’s fixed her hair since I first came downstairs. It’s not the wild mess it was. The braid is smoother, but tendrils have already escaped, blowing around her face when the breeze picks up.
“Usually I do a couple of weeks in the Chicago area so I can visit my family, but now that I’m back there, I figured I’d do something different this year. And I wanted an excuse to see Sunny. I was hoping to convince her to come visit me for a couple of days out there, but it looks like you got to her first.”
“Looks like.” He grins.
I lean back in my chair and return the smile. “I don’t mind sticking around for a few days after the camp is over, though.”
The tension at the table is thicker than my playoff beard. I’m aware I’m having a pissing contest with this skinny douchebag in front of her parents, but I want to establish myself as real competition.
Lily puts down her phone. “So this camp you volunteer for, it’s for hockey brats?” She says it more than she asks.
I frown. “It’s a sports camp, but a few of the kids have special needs.”
“Miller subsidizes it so struggling families can afford it,” Sunny says.
Ironically, Lily seems shocked. “Oh. I didn’t realize that.” Everything she knows about me is based on media coverage and Instagram pictures posted by bunnies, so it’s a narrow view.
“It’s not something I advertise.”
“What’s it called again?” Lily asks.
“Camp Beaver Woods,” Sunny replies for me.
The conversation makes me feel uncomfortable—like I’m on the hot seat facing a bestie interrogation. Lily has this look on her face like someone shit in her cornflakes.
Daisy pats my hand. “You’re always doing such wonderful things. You’re so generous. Isn’t he, Sunny?”
She gives me a small smile. “He is.” She looks almost guilty. I can’t imagine why.
“It’s no big deal. I don’t think something like money should get in the way of a kid’s opportunity.”
“Must be nice to have lots to throw around,” Kale says, loud enough that we all hear him.
I want to give this dickhead a swirly. He’s being antagonistic. If I was on the ice, I’d stick him in the shins, but I’m not. So I only have words as an option. “You think helping pay for kids who otherwise would never have a chance to go to a camp like this is throwing money around?”
“I don’t think Kale means it like that,” Sunny interjects.
“I just think there are other causes you can donate to that would have more of an impact.”
I know exactly the kind of guy Kale is. He’s the same kid in my classes in high school who used to have a comment for everything, the one who would find a weakness and exploit it to make someone feel dumb. I’m done with his superiority complex.
“Really? So you don’t think subsidizing a camp for low-income families or financing a partnership with an inclusion program for kids with special needs is going to have an impact? That’s an interesting perspective.”
He blinks like I’ve high-beamed him. Lily looks stunned. Sometimes the stereotypes associated with being a professional athlete piss me off. I’m glad I remembered the explanation Amber sent when we were figuring out what camp I’d contribute to this year.
“Miller’s involved in a lot of charity work.” Sunny’s eyes bounce between the two of us.
I don’t want to defend myself to this jerkoff, or have Sunny do it for me. I work hard for the money I make. And yeah, it’s a lot, which is why I do what I do.