Fake Skating(52)

That made my dad throw his head back and laugh, which was still my favorite sound.

It was weird how tragedy could do that to you.

My dad had been fine(ish) for a long time now, but after everything, I still cherished his loud-as-hell laugh, because we’d almost lost it forever.

“Yeah, he grew and then suddenly he became less klutzy—go figure,” my dad said.

“Did he tell you that I’m going to be a hockey team manager?” she asked.

“Oh yeah? I thought you didn’t know anything about hockey,” he said, giving me a confused look.

“Oh, I don’t, but it seems to me like when your boy wants something, he somehow manages to make it happen.”

Good Lord, she is good.

She was dripping little bits of flirtation without blatantly saying that things might be progressing past friendship.

“So I guess I’m going to have to learn all about it now,” she said.

“I’ll teach you,” my dad said, which I knew he’d love. “Come over anytime and I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You should come over right now, Collins.”

Something about the way she looked embarrassed when I said that, the way her cheeks got a little bit pink, made me smile in spite of my exhaustion.

“I’m pretty sure you have studying to do, Barczewski,” she said in a perfect tease. “By the way—my mom said she was going somewhere called the Crow to celebrate her new job and it’s been hours and she still isn’t back—should I be worried?”

“Nah, she was with us,” my dad said. “We stopped by after the game.”

“I’m assuming the Crow is a bar?” she asked.

“The Croatian Social Hall,” I said. “The Cro.”

“Oh,” she said, looking no less confused and distracting me with the way she was blinking fast.

She had the coolest fucking eyes.

“It’s basically a bar,” I added, clearing my throat and my mind. “That everyone goes to.”

“Got it. Listen, I should probably go study,” she said, smiling at my dad. “But am I going to see you and Sarah soon? Will you guys be at the next game?”

“They’re my parents, Collins,” I said. “Of coursethey’ll be there.”

“I was talking to your father, not you,” she said adorably.

“Yeah, we’ll be there. And you missed a helluva game earlier; Al really had his legs moving tonight, holy moly.”

That made her eyes land on me as she smirked. “He brought both of them, did he?”

My dad laughed again and went off, describing the game, completely oblivious to the fact that she had no idea what he was saying.

She tilted her head and that smirk slid into a grin. “So… you scored?”

My dad lost it, howling as he told Dani she needed to get her ass over to the house soon so he could teach her about hockey.

“I will, I promise,” she said. “Al, are you picking me up for school on Monday?”

I hadn’t been planning on it, we hadn’t discussed it at all, and something about the way she was looking at me told me she knew that.

“Of course I am,” I said, slowly shaking my head because she was a little shit.

“I’ll have him bring some deer sticks,” my dad said. “And some of El’s cinnamon rolls.”

“That would be great. See you then, Zeussy,” she said with a big grin, and I laughed because she’d obviously tricked me. I’d made a deal with a harmless shy girl, not this mouthy version of classic Dani.

“I love that kid,” my dad said after the call was disconnected. “So she’s gonna be a manager, huh? Where the hell did this come from?”

I told him about the Harvard thing, and he said, “Well, I’m glad you were able to help her. She’s a good kid and it sounds like she went through some shit, so hopefully Southview’s a great place for her to land.”

“What sort of shit?” I asked. “Besides the divorce.”

“I think it was just typical mean-girl stuff in junior high,” he said. “But it sounds like it left her a little on the skittish side. God, I’d love to slap whoever messed with Danigirl. She seems fine now, though.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking that that tracked with how suspicious she seemed of me and my friends.

The doorbell rang at that moment and my dad gave me a look. “Sounds like Grandma’s here with the twins, so close your door if you expect to get any studying done.”

“Good call,” I said, and watched my dad wince as he turned to walk out of my room.

He was so good at living through the pain that sometimes I actually forgot about the accident, which was insane, because it’d blown our world apart.

But then little facial expressions like that reminded me.

Of the call: They said the semi T-boned your dad’s truck.

He’d had a ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, swelling on the brain—and those were just the things the doctors told us could kill him. He’d also had a broken back, broken femur, broken wrist, and four broken ribs, but those were almost cosmetic compared to the critical injuries.

He’d been more smashed up than not.