Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Tanner’s never had both of his parents out for anything hockey related in his pro career, and I think now is the perfect time to change that.
To give him a chance to see, yeah, the league does still suck, but there is change.
There has been progress.
There can be more.
Hockey is for everyone.
Should be for everyone.
And more importantly?
The team that he’s on doesn’t shy away from breaking out-of-date traditions or paving the way for new acceptance.
I can’t wait for him to see that.
Experience it.
Plus, slyly getting his parents numbers, texting with them, securing their seats, and the recipe for “Baked with Love”, the Valentine’s Day themed event for the first home game in February, was all very secret peace treaty style which momentarily gave me something else to focus on besides the possible dissolving of my relationship.
Meeting them today – without Tanner – was oddly less stressful than had he been privy to the whole sitch.
Becks and I picked them up from the airport this morning, took them to lunch, dropped them off at their hotel, and then I got to baking the second my boyfriend was out of the apartment for the rest of the day courtesy of an array of personal medical appointments that basically have him having to head straight to the barn afterward.
“Now, these need a few more minutes to cool before they can be loaded onto one of the snowman plates, but those are good to go.” My eyes oscillate between Tanner’s dads. “You’re sure you don’t mind loading, wrapping, and bringing these for me?”
“Not at all,” Trent warmly exclaims. “I rather enjoy the plating process.”
“Weird,” Becks murmurs while attempting to reach for another cookie.
Another slap stops him again except this time I sass, “You can have whatever doesn’t fit pretty on the plate if you just stop trying to prematurely eat them.”
Becks juvenilely sniggers, “Premature.”
There’s no stopping the eye roll his impish laughter causes. “Your name is on the list for family with theirs.”
Surprise overwhelms his stubbled complexion. “Sérieusement?”
“Hundy P.”
Additional shock keeps him stunned silent.
“The boys’ll be glad to see you.” Casually dropping the spatula on the island is attached to a small grin. “Probably even wanna get a brewskie but-”
“No brews. No booze. No drugs.”
“Ballet is still an option.”
He nods at the fair point as Trent investigates, “You’re into the ballet?”
“Slang for strip club,” Carson casually informs.
“And why would it not be,” mirthfully snickers his husband on a shake of the head.
“They’ll give you your seats when you check in, but if you need other accommodations – end seat or no stairs seat or closer to the exit – just let Katie Hardwick know – petite blonde, Kindergarten teacher voice – and she’ll get you rearranged. We have an entire chunk sectioned off specifically for family night, so it shouldn’t be that hard if necessary.”
“Where will I be sitting?” Trent politely asks prompting my brow to furrow. “On the opposite side? In the highest section? One of the empty boxes?”
“You will be sitting beside your husband in the family section,” I announce without hesitation.
“But-”
“You are Tanner’s father. You deserve to see him and support him in his career, just like he deserves to be seen and supported.” Sliding my hands into the back pockets of my jeans is mindlessly done. “You are his family. And the fact that that may make other people uncomfortable, isn’t a you problem, it’s a them problem; however, what you decide to do about that – caring or not – is ultimately up to you.” A tiny shrug bounces my shoulders. “You are welcomed to sit among the rest of the dragon clan, or you are welcomed to sit in the Slayer box we use for regular games. You are welcomed to stay for the game or go after the bakery event. Again…it is completely up to you after he initially sees you came.”
Rather than give me the enthusiastic war cry I wanted, Trent simply offers a single nod of dismissal. “I understand.”
Okay.
That’s not quite a rallying response but not not one, yeah?
Getting from Tanner’s apartment to the employees only parking at the stadium takes about the amount of time expected. Once parked – only the boys get their vehicles parked for them – I swiftly swap my cooking-stained tank for my black Dalvegan Dragons polo that’s stretched out in the passenger seat. Post putting it on, I grab my work bag, loose rubber ducky scrunchy, and signature sharpie that I instantly hook onto my lapel.
Unfortunately for me, closer to the doors, the caitiff cloaked in Coach perfume – shout out to Tanner’s last crossword search – swoops in beside me and dry heaves. “Gross.” She tucks her phone into her tiny white handbag. “You smell like sugar and sadness.”
My fingers don’t stop their task of collecting all my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head. “You look like a Parisian prostitute.”