THERE HE IS AGAIN.
He’s sitting in the stands, watching the practice from the shadows. I’ve made a couple mistakes during our drills because I can’t stop staring. Black leather jacket, Yankees cap pulled low over his face, plenty of scruff—it’s my Uncle Blake.
But what the hell is he doing here? Watching me skate like I’m five again and on my first pee wee team, all without even a text to let me know he’s in town?
Evan squints at him when I point him out. “Are you sure?” he says. “He’s your uncle?”
“Yeah. Don’t know why he couldn’t just text.” I clap Evan on the shoulder. “I’m going to go ask Coach if I can take a break to talk to him.”
“Whatever Cooper wants, Cooper gets,” Brandon mocks as I skate by. “I guess that’s how it is when you’ve put your dick in—”
I skate back around to him. “You want to finish that sentence?” I lean in, glancing over at Coach deliberately before settling my gaze on Brandon. “Because if I need to kick your ass, I will. And then I’ll tell Coach exactly who dared disrespect his daughter.”
Brandon swallows but doesn’t say another word.
“That’s what I thought.” I shake my head. “Watch your fucking mouth. And next time you see Penny, you’re going to apologize for that stunt you pulled in Vermont. You understand?”
His expression wavers, like he’s considering telling me to fuck off. I just raise an eyebrow.
“Fine,” he snaps.
Coach gives me permission to talk to Uncle Blake—at least I hope it’s him, because if not, this will be awkward—so I head up the stairs. When I get to the row he’s sitting in, he raises his hand into a little wave.
If I wasn’t sure before, I am now: it’s my uncle. A little older, a little more worn looking, but definitely him.
“Hey, Cooper,” he says as I sit down next to him on the bench. It’s casual as anything, like I just saw him last week for Sunday dinner.
“Uncle Blake.” I accept his sideways hug. He smells like cigarette smoke and cheap soap, but that’s familiar when it comes to him. “What are you doing here? I called you.”
“Business brought me back to New York,” he says. “Thought I’d see my nephews, and Eagles tickets are too damn expensive.”
My face falls. Of course, he’s hoping to see James. Everyone always does. “You can just ask him for tickets,” I say coldly. “I’ve got practice.”
He reaches out and punches me in the arm before I can get up. “Just kidding, Coop. Thought you knew how to take a joke. Sorry I didn’t respond to your message, I thought this would be easier.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I just want to catch up, like you. Maybe I could take you out for dinner? When you’re finished, of course.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Um, sure?”
“Birthday’s soon, right?” he says. “Call it a gift.”
It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, I’m almost surprised he remembers. He hasn’t been in town since I was seventeen, and that was only for a short time before he went away to rehab again. I wonder if he’s clean, then feel guilty for thinking it. He’s doing his best, I’m sure, and he mentioned getting dinner, not a drink. Dad is the one who’s judgmental about him and his struggles, and if there’s anyone I don’t want to be like, it’s him.
“Thanks.” I look down at the ice, where the team is still practicing. Coach Ryder blows his whistle, and the boys stop, giving him their attention. “I’ll get changed.”
“Atta boy.” He slaps me on the back before he gets up. “I’m excited to see what my favorite nephew has been up to.”
When practice ends, I change as quickly as I can, say goodbye to the guys and Coach Ryder, and book it. Part of me, a tiny little irrational part, wonders if Uncle Blake will be gone, but he’s leaning against the building, having a smoke. Wintertime means the sun has already slipped below the horizon, but an overhead light illuminates him, making the black leather of his jacket shine.
When he sees me, his eyes light up. They’re like mine—like Dad’s—that deep blue. Callahan blue, my mother used to tease. She’s always been nicer when she talks about Uncle Blake, even though she’s not the one related to him.
“Know anywhere good around here to grab a bite?” he asks.
“Pizza okay?”
“Come on, kid. I can do better for your twenty-first birthday.”
“There’s a good burger place not too far away.” I hitch my bag onto my shoulder. “Did you drive here?”
He scrubs his hand through his hair. “Had a buddy drop me off.”
“No problem,” I say, rummaging around in my pocket for my keys as we cross the parking lot. “Remember that truck I bought after saving all summer? Last time you were in town? I’ve been working on it this whole time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It runs great now.” I run my hand over the glossy black hood before hopping inside. “Sweet, right?”
Uncle Blake settles into the passenger seat. “I’m sure Rich loves this.”
“It’s been a sore spot,” I say cheerfully. “He wanted to get me a Range Rover like James, but I prefer this.”
“See, you and me, we’re the same,” he says. “There are Richards and Jameses. Blakes and Coopers.”
I glance at him. “That’s one way to put it.”
He gives me a half-smile. “Tell me what’s up with you, kid. I know I haven’t exactly been around. But I’m clean and sober.”
My heart swells in my chest. “I’m glad.”
“Took a while to get back on my feet and make it stick, but I’m here.”
I make a left; I know how to get to this restaurant in my sleep. I’ve lost count of the amount of times Sebastian and I have made late-night burger runs through the drive-through window. The shakes are the perfect consistency. I probably shouldn’t have one, but it’s not like I can try to use my fake ID one more time to order a beer in front of Uncle Blake.
“I’m good,” I say. “Season’s been going well. I’m… I’m team captain.”
“There’s the Cooper I remember.” He smacks his palms together. “I suppose it makes up for missing out on the draft.”
My breath sticks in my throat. “Yeah. Mostly.” I pull into the parking lot. On a random weeknight in February, it’s not too crowded, just a couple of other cars in the lot. “It’s fine, I love my team and I’m really improving.”
“There’s no need to be so modest. You’d have gone first round, and you know like I do.” Uncle Blake leads the way to the door and holds it open for me; the blessedly warm air blasts us in the face. “If you were my son, I’d have pushed you to do it.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to.”
He waves his hand. “Right. Rich.”
I huff out a laugh. “No one calls him that, you know.”
“I’m his brother, it’s allowed.”
We order burgers and fries and a chocolate shake each. I need to take Penny here sometime; I know she’d prefer the strawberry milkshake and I love the little happy dance she does when she’s tasting something good. Maybe when McKee does one of its film screenings on the quad in the spring, we’ll make it dinner and a movie.
Uncle Blake picks out a booth in the corner. The neon of the sign on the wall above washes over his face in shades of pink and purple. When I sit across from him, he leans in, elbows on the sticky tabletop. “Scouts been in touch?”
“Some,” I say. “They know I’m staying for the duration. Dad and James’ agent is going to work on an offer after graduation.”
“Fuck that,” he says, fiddling with his watch. It’s an expensive one, a gold and silver Rolex. My dad has a Rolex too, and judging by his graduation present to James, I’ll have one coming my way after next year. “Teams are going to be lining up around the block. You won’t need an agent. Save your money.”
I shake my head. “No way. Contracts are complicated.”
“You have something they want. I’ve watched your highlights this season. You’re a fucking superstar. You could be the next Makar.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. It’s flattering that he’s seen the tape, but it’s a big leap to go from ‘Hockey East top defenseman’ to ‘Norris Memorial Award winner.’ Even if that’s the thing I fantasize about, it’s not the kind of the dream I’d admit aloud. “Sure.”
“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You have the fucking talent; you should be in the league already. Not playing for some college team and writing papers.”
“I’m fine where I am,” I say, a touch sharp. “And McKee isn’t some college team. We’re good enough to win the Frozen Four this year.”
He settles back against the booth, hands held up in surrender. “I’m serious, kid. But we don’t have to talk about it.”
“Sorry.” I take off my cap and scrub my hand through my hair as I breathe in. “But I’m fine where I am. Really.”
“Well, go on, tell me more.” He gives the server a flirty grin as she sets down our meals, and she blushes as she walks away. I resist the urge to roll my eyes; apparently my uncle’s charm is alive and well. “I’m here now. For good this time.”
“Seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack.” He picks up his shake and knocks his glass against mine in cheers. “I’ve stayed away too long. It’s time that changed.
