“So, Uncle Jack—” Ruth props her chin up on her hands and gazes at Jack from across the table—“is there someone special in your life?”
Jack narrows his eyes at his niece, way too prococious for a seven-year-old but what did he expect, given her parentage? “Did you dad tell you to ask me that?”
“Mommy and Daddy are worried that you’re going to be sad after you retire next year and don’t have the cold, cold arms of hockey to keep you warm.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Jack says.
Ruth shrugs and takes a long sip of her Italian soda. Her second of the evening, because Jack is a sucker and can’t tell her no. “Do you?” she demands, setting the glass down. Jack suddenly has a flashback to her father doing the same thing in college, but with a bottle of beer.
“Who are you taking to the ESPYs?”
“You.” Jack hopes it will at least elicit a giggle but Ruth just stares at him gravely.
“You know I’m not allowed to stay up past nine. I think you should take Bitty.”
“Who?” Jack is pretty sure he’s never met a ‘Bitty’ in his life.
“Bitty. He took pictures at the Little Falconers skate clinic.” Ruth rolls her eyes like, duh, who doesn’t know Bitty?
“Do you mean Eric?” Eric is the new guy who was recently hired in PR. He’s been involved in a lot of outreach events this summer and, despite his best efforts, has not convinced Jack to run in the newly established Falconers 5K that’s scheduled for the weekend before the season begins.
Eric is cute. And outgoing. He always seems to be in the middle of doing three things at once: tweeting something from the official Falconers account while filming candid footage for the YouTube channel and convincing some of the younger—and therefore more eager—players to film videos where they try new products they’ve been sent.
Jack still blushes when he remembers how Eric, when the Falcs finally got knocked out of the playoffs, had brandished some sort of new razor and asked Jack if he could shave his beard off on camera.
Eric is way out of Jack’s league.
“Bitty, Eric—” Ruth waves a dismissive hand. “He told us his hockey nickname is Bitty.”
Jack wonders why Eric has never told him that Eric’s hockey nickname is Bitty, until he remembers he always has a convenient excuse to avoid Eric just in case he tries to ask him about his lack of social media presence. Or cajole him into filming a video of his day-off routine. Or make him try the pie that inexplicably started appearing in the break room once he was hired.
Eric is way out of Jack’s league.
“And why do you think I should go out with Bit— er, Eric?”
“He’s nice. He looks like he gives good hugs, and Daddy always says you need more hugs. And he told me he has a cat! We can’t have a cat because Mommy is allergic, but if you marry Eric I can play with it when I stay over.”
Oh, of course. This is about a cat.
“I haven’t even been on a date with him,” Jack reminds her. “Don’t you think marriage is a little premature?”
“I think you really have a shot with him,” Ruth says. She wrinkles her nose. “Maybe not in that shirt, though. We should go shopping.”
Later, after they’ve read a chapter of A Wrinkle in Time and Ruth is snugly tucked into the bed in Jack’s guest room, Jack texts Shitty and Lardo: “Tell your daughter to stop interrogating me about my love life.”
There’s a new shirt hanging in Jack’s closet.
stormborns
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snowghoul
theartofmadeline
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