shock that she’d called his bluff. Part irritation that he’d now be under her roof, at her mercy as it were. But the other part of that look….
She trembled just a tiny bit, feeling a shock of awareness go through her. The other three people around the bed didn ’t notice, as they were gathering things or settling into chairs.
But Petey noticed. And his look of triumph had her scurrying for the door.
***
“ So let’s see your ring,” Mr. Jukuri said to Petey late on Tuesday afternoon.
“ I don’t have a ring, Mr. J. I wasn’t with the Red Wings when they won the Cup, remember?” Wrong thing to say apparently, as Alison’s father got a confused look on his face and then turned to look out the window of his hospital room.
Petey and Lizzie had spent all morning crafting a press release about his injury, talking on the phone with the Red Wings front office—who ’d been incredibly understanding, even though they’d need to call up an inexperienced defenseman to finish out the season—and working out logistical details of him not returning to Detroit for the foreseeable future.
She ’d brought the baby with her, in one of those carrier things. Petey had to admit it was a cute little thing. He. Sam. Sam was a cute little thing. Being an only child himself, and Lizzie being the first in their close group to have kids, Petey didn’t have a lot of experience with babies. Yeah, sure, his teammates had a bunch of kids, but Petey’d never been one to hang out at a teammate’s home and intrude on family time during the season. They got it so infrequently with the crazy road schedule.
And Sam seemed to have inherited his mother ’s love of plans. Lizzie announced when she’d entered his room that Sam would be awake just long enough for he and Petey to become acquainted and then sleep while they conducted business, and damn if that wasn’t exactly what happened.
But after she left, and before his mother was due to arrive after her day of work as Houghton ’s elementary school’s chief administrative assistant, Petey felt a little stir crazy. Dr. Thompson had said he’d need to get out of bed and move around a bit with the brace and crutches before they’d let him leave tomorrow. So he’d asked a nurse to set up a wheelchair for him a little bit outside his room and then hobbled to it before collapsing into it.
It ’d been a lot harder on him than he’d thought it’d be. He was so drained he didn’t put up any argument when the nurse started wheeling him around. To give him a change of scenery, she’d said. It all looked the same to Petey—depressing as hell—until he thought to ask to be brought to Mr. Jukuri’s room for a visit.
Mr. J had always liked Petey. Had always loved talking hockey with him. And Petey liked talking with Mr. J. because he wasn ’t nearly so obsessive about hockey as his own father was.
But now, looking at the frail man, confused by his own failing memory, Petey wondered if he should have come at all.
“Lots of people do that,” he tried to reassure him. “Assume I won the Cup. But no, I was with the Stars during those years.”
He ’d hated Dallas. The guys had been all right, and the front office had been good to him. But the lack of seasons bugged him. It just didn’t feel right to leave the ice rink and walk out into ninety-degree heat. He’d missed Michigan and was grateful when he’d been traded back to the Wings.
He ’d never even bought a place in Texas, just rented. It’d never felt like home.
“ Yes, that’s right. You were with Dallas during those years. I forgot about that.”
“ Yeah, I’m still trying to,” Petey said with a wink that caused Mr. J to laugh. Ah, good, he was back. Or maybe he’d never left.
“ And will you be able to finish out the season, Pete?” he asked, nodding toward Petey’s knee.
“ Doesn’t look that way.”
“ There’s always next year.”
“ Actually, that does it for me. I’m officially retired.
She trembled just a tiny bit, feeling a shock of awareness go through her. The other three people around the bed didn ’t notice, as they were gathering things or settling into chairs.
But Petey noticed. And his look of triumph had her scurrying for the door.
***
“ So let’s see your ring,” Mr. Jukuri said to Petey late on Tuesday afternoon.
“ I don’t have a ring, Mr. J. I wasn’t with the Red Wings when they won the Cup, remember?” Wrong thing to say apparently, as Alison’s father got a confused look on his face and then turned to look out the window of his hospital room.
Petey and Lizzie had spent all morning crafting a press release about his injury, talking on the phone with the Red Wings front office—who ’d been incredibly understanding, even though they’d need to call up an inexperienced defenseman to finish out the season—and working out logistical details of him not returning to Detroit for the foreseeable future.
She ’d brought the baby with her, in one of those carrier things. Petey had to admit it was a cute little thing. He. Sam. Sam was a cute little thing. Being an only child himself, and Lizzie being the first in their close group to have kids, Petey didn’t have a lot of experience with babies. Yeah, sure, his teammates had a bunch of kids, but Petey’d never been one to hang out at a teammate’s home and intrude on family time during the season. They got it so infrequently with the crazy road schedule.
And Sam seemed to have inherited his mother ’s love of plans. Lizzie announced when she’d entered his room that Sam would be awake just long enough for he and Petey to become acquainted and then sleep while they conducted business, and damn if that wasn’t exactly what happened.
But after she left, and before his mother was due to arrive after her day of work as Houghton ’s elementary school’s chief administrative assistant, Petey felt a little stir crazy. Dr. Thompson had said he’d need to get out of bed and move around a bit with the brace and crutches before they’d let him leave tomorrow. So he’d asked a nurse to set up a wheelchair for him a little bit outside his room and then hobbled to it before collapsing into it.
It ’d been a lot harder on him than he’d thought it’d be. He was so drained he didn’t put up any argument when the nurse started wheeling him around. To give him a change of scenery, she’d said. It all looked the same to Petey—depressing as hell—until he thought to ask to be brought to Mr. Jukuri’s room for a visit.
Mr. J had always liked Petey. Had always loved talking hockey with him. And Petey liked talking with Mr. J. because he wasn ’t nearly so obsessive about hockey as his own father was.
But now, looking at the frail man, confused by his own failing memory, Petey wondered if he should have come at all.
“Lots of people do that,” he tried to reassure him. “Assume I won the Cup. But no, I was with the Stars during those years.”
He ’d hated Dallas. The guys had been all right, and the front office had been good to him. But the lack of seasons bugged him. It just didn’t feel right to leave the ice rink and walk out into ninety-degree heat. He’d missed Michigan and was grateful when he’d been traded back to the Wings.
He ’d never even bought a place in Texas, just rented. It’d never felt like home.
“ Yes, that’s right. You were with Dallas during those years. I forgot about that.”
“ Yeah, I’m still trying to,” Petey said with a wink that caused Mr. J to laugh. Ah, good, he was back. Or maybe he’d never left.
“ And will you be able to finish out the season, Pete?” he asked, nodding toward Petey’s knee.
“ Doesn’t look that way.”
“ There’s always next year.”
“ Actually, that does it for me. I’m officially retired.
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