“Your father called,” Mom adds. “He isn’t going to make it. He says we should enjoy our vacation without him. He sends his love to everyone.”
Julia crooks her arm in mine and kisses my bicep. She doesn’t want the fact that my dad isn’t here to bother me, but, of course, I’m not surprised. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. Life goes on. He is who he is and he’s the kind of person that can’t change. On the surface he seems to be over the fact that I chose my own path, but he rarely visits even though business brings him to DC occasionally. His fund is still going strong, and he has a junior executive that’s designated as his successor. When we do see each other, we’re cordial, and he treats the kids great. It’s the best it can be. And I’ve accepted that.
After playing Sorry and Candyland for an hour or so, Z asks if the kids are ready for hotdogs over the firepit. They say they are and we head to the kitchen to grab what we need to start dinner.
Julia wraps her arms around my neck and smiles up at me. “While the big strong men make a fire to burn meat, I’m gonna sneak in some work, okay?”
“Sounds good.” I smack her ass as she walks away.
When we were first married, she did some photography work for a few websites around the DC area and maintained an Etsy shop of her butterfly drawings, but once the kids came, she focused on taking care of them. An author saw one of her drawings on social media and asked her to turn it into a book cover. The book ended up being a bestseller. Now, she gets requests for illustrations several times a year. She’s able to work as much as she wants and do it all from her studio in our house.
Z and I are stacking wood for the fire when my phone rings.
I answer. “Coach? What’s up?”
“Eric, glad you picked up. No one wants to talk on the phone anymore,” is the gruff voice that greets me.
“You usually only call when you have bad news. I thought I’d rather hear it from you straight rather than a voice message. Give it to me, what’s going on?”
“No, no. Nothing bad. It’s good actually, well, for you. Jankovic is retiring. He just left my office. The injury last year still hasn’t healed, and he’s decided twelve years is enough. He’s hanging up his skates, and he recommended you take his place as captain.”
I blink, stunned for a minute with all the information he just dumped on me. “Are you sure? Jank wants to retire and he recommended me?”
He chuckles. “Yes, Eric. You.”
Jankovic was my mentor when I joined the Capitals. I didn’t set the NHL on fire like Z did in his first few years. In fact, my first few were spent on the penalty kill line, and I was constantly worried about getting cut. Haru Jankovic was our captain. He took me and some other young guys under his wing, showing us the amount of work we needed to be putting in to get into true NHL shape. It paid off in my fourth year when I started getting extended minutes on the ice with him. For the last two years, I’ve been on the first line and made the all-star team. Being captain on an NHL team is a big responsibility and knowing that my mentor recommended I take his place means the world to me.
“Wow, of course. I’d be honored. Do I need to come back to DC for this?”
“No, it can keep. We’ll announce all of this next week before preseason starts. You enjoy the rest of your vacation. You have a lot of work to do when you get back.”
I hang up the phone and Z has a huge smile on his face.
“Congratulations, man! Hawthorne Lions always rise to the top.” He gives me a slap on the back. “Best winger I ever had.”
I text Julia immediately and let her know. I’d run up and tell her in person, but I need a minute to process—plus there’s a fire to maintain.
Later, as the sun is setting, the temperature drops to a nice seventy degrees with a cool breeze. We sit out in lawn chairs, monitoring the kids as they cook the hot dogs for themselves and the adults. They begged us so we relented. Now, we sit and eat the half-burned, half-cold hotdogs like they were from a five-star restaurant.
The kids are now burning marshmallows for dessert.
Evander gets a little too close to the fire and Sugar calls out, “Don’t play in the fire or ya’ll will pee the bed.”
All five kids snap their heads to look at her and then each other. They aren’t sure who exactly she was scolding, but they all take a step back—except for Nash.
“I pee bed. Don’t care.”
The rest of them giggle but stop when I give them the “you better not make fun of him” look.