Page 13 of The Rebound Play
His eyes flick to my left hand and I just know he’s searching for a ring.
So, he thinks I’m married with kids. Part of me wants to put him straight, tell him that Benny and his sister out on the ice are both Clara’s kids. Another part of me—the less rational part that thinks it’s a good idea to hide on the floor of the arena—wants to pretend they’re mine, that I did move on from him and have married the great love of my life, producing two beautiful children with him.
But this is Maple Falls, a small town fueled by two things: the lumber mill and gossip. I might not be the one to tell him I’m not a happily married mom of two, but someone else will before too long.
“Hi there, Benny,” Dan says, bending down closer to Benny’s height, which is a long way down for a super tall guy like Dan. “It’s great to meet you.”
“Did you know you’re called ‘Dan the Man’?” Benny asks with his gap-toothed grin.
“I did, yes,” he replies.
“My mom says you’re a hometown hero.”
His eyes flick to mine. “Does she now?”
Ha! That less rational part of my brain does a little dance.
“Does that mean you’re like Spiderman?” Benny asks, and some of the Mom Squad laugh at his adorableness.
“I think Spiderman is way cooler than me,” Dan replies.
Benny shakes his head. “Nah-ah. Spiderman would be dumb on skates.”
Dan chuckles. “I think you’re right, but between you and me, I’m not sure my web slinging apparatus is quite up to scratch.”
His eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. “You have web slinging appa-batus? You’re so cool!” He looks up at me, his eyes shining bright. “Dan the Man is a superhero?”
“Of course he’s not, honey. He’s just messing with you,” I say, feeling weirdly touched by the effort Dan is making with the kid he currently thinks is mine.
He shrugs. “It’s true. I’m just a regular guy. Tell me, Benny, do you skate?”
He shakes his head. “I want to be a famous hockey player, just like you. But I’m not allowed.” He looks up at me with a mournful look on his face—the one he gives me anytime ice hockey is mentioned—as though I’m the one standing in the way of his NHL hockey career.
“How old are you?” Dan asks.
“I’m six and two halves,” he replies.
“Six and one half, Benny and the Jets,” I correct gently.
“Six and a half is old enough to start learning how to play hockey. You could put him in a Learn to Skate program,” Dan suggests, not helping at all.
But then how could he know that we can’t afford for Benny to learn how to play?
“See? I told you,” Benny complains to me, and I purse my lips.
Finally, Dan reads the proverbial room. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks me. “I did, didn’t I?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Benny’s here to watch his sister’s lesson.”
Dan’s brows pop up to meet his hairline—which I notice is exactly where it was when we dated back in high school. Nothing receding there. Still thick, luscious dark hair that a girl itches to run her fingers through.
Not that I’m going to do that.
“His sister?” he asks.
“Hannah. She’s having a lesson with Ellie, right now,” I reply, gesturing at the ice.
“All our kids are in that lesson. That’s why we’re here,” Caroline says. “We love figure skating, but not as much as we love hockey. I’m Caroline. It’s great to see you again. You probably don’t remember me because I was a few years ahead of you in high school.”