Our Overtime: Ice League Book 1 (The Ice League Series)

Canyon and I made breakfast every Sunday morning together.

I was already sipping some coffee and making pancake mix when he entered the kitchen in his pjs. He sleepily pulled a chair over to the counter where I was mixing the batter and he silently added chocolate chips to it while rubbing his eyes.

The kid knew our routine so well he could do it practically sleeping.

I laughed and kissed his head.

My phone rang, interrupting my stirring. I quickly wiped my hands off on my sweatpants and grabbed up my phone. It was an unknown number calling.

“Hello?”

“Hullo,” a gravelly voice replied.

I knew that greeting. He didn’t even have to say his name. Excluding his father, Greyson was the only person I knew who changed his e’s to u’s in saying hello. My teenage self got a kick out of it. Now it made my chest feel tight.

“Grey?” Saying his name aloud after all these years felt so foreign. It had been a word I omitted from my vocabulary, not to be uttered.

That perked the little man’s ears up, and he immediately looked at me with interest as he shoved a handful of chocolate chips into his mouth.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Yeah,” he drawled out. “I was just calling because… Canyon.”

“Oh. You want to talk to him? He’s right here,” I supplied.

It still felt so odd to hear his voice on the other end of the phone. I’d wanted it more than anything else for years. But instead of the comfort I used to get from his voice, it now brought shaky nerves. I’d be happy to pass off the phone call to my son to give myself some time to get used to this new dynamic, but I couldn’t handle it if he was going to be taking digs at my life choices to my son.

“Can you keep it to hockey?” I said tightly.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Yes,” He breathed out.

I handed the phone to Canyon and gave a shrug.

“Coach?” He mouthed to me with wide eyes, and I nodded.

“Coach Grey?” Canyon asked into the phone.

I couldn’t hear the other end of the line, but Canyon happily chatted away with him, so I continued the pancake making process.

A couple minutes later, he got down from his chair and went to peak in the garage.

“Yeah, we got it here,” I heard Canyon say.

Canyon wandered back into the kitchen and handed me my phone.

“Good chat?” I asked him, to which he nodded vigorously. He took his spot back on the counter and watched me pour the batter onto the griddle.

Right when I was handing him the first three pancakes, the doorbell rang, causing me to almost drop them.

I took in a deep breath. I didn’t think Kevin was coming over to see Canyon today. I did not want to have to gear myself up to see him. I hoped it was just Jen asking us to watch Troy.

“That’s for me!” Canyon announced and raced for the door, cutting off my thoughts

“Wait, Canyon who is that?” I called to him.

“Coach!” He called.

“What?!” I asked with alarm in my voice.

Canyon stopped in his tracks halfway to the door and looked at me like I was crazy, “I thought you said I could invite friends over.”

I continued to stare at my kid who didn’t have all the pieces to connect that he’d just invited my ex over.

“I can’t tell him not to come now, Mom. He’s gonna help me with my shot! He’s already here!” He protested.

“Uh.. okay, I guess,” he did have a point, but I was having trouble grasping the concept that Canyon considered Greyson Scott his friend.

I couldn’t see the front door from my place in the kitchen, but I could hear as Canyon opened the door.

“Hey, bud,” I heard Grey say to Canyon.

“Mom’s making pancakes. Want some? I put extra chocolate.”

“You sure she wouldn’t mind?” Grey’s deep voice asked him.

“She didn’t know you were coming, and she was a little mad about it, but we always have extras,” he told him. I internally groaned. My son, the truth teller.

I found myself feeling shaky all of a sudden in picturing myself from Grey’s eyes. Almost ten years older, in my ratty jogger sweatpants and a ragged cut off t-shirt with my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun with only traces of eye makeup leftover from yesterday. Great. He was going to think I peaked at 22. I tried to remind myself that it didn’t matter anyway. He was here for Canyon, not me.

He’d had enough of me a long time ago and he never looked back. I shouldn’t either. I busied myself with dumping more batter onto the griddle.

“Hullo,”

I looked up at him. He was in basketball shorts and a Griffins dry-fit short sleeve t-shirt and socks. Greyson Scott had taken his shoes off at my door. What a weird turn in life. He looked uncomfortable standing there at the edge of my kitchen, not making eye contact with me. All thoughts of a grudge went out the window when I saw him. It was the same when we were kids. I’d be mad at him, but as soon as I looked up at him and saw his face, half the anger would dissipate- I hated it at times- but he had that effect on me. He was such a large guy, but half the time he looked like a lost puppy that only needed a little affection to be so happy.

“Uh, hi,” I forced a smile, reminding myself he was here to help Canyon. “Want some?”

“Sure, always up for free food,” he said quietly. Still looking unsure he made his way towards the kitchen table where Canyon was pouring syrup on his pancakes.

“My mom makes the best ones,” Canyon told him. “They’re much better than restaurant ones… or Tammy’s,” he said, making a yuck face.

“Canyon, be nice,” I warned, but I couldn’t help stifling a laugh. My bud was always on my side.

Tammy was Kevin’s girlfriend.

“I gag when I eat at Tammy’s,” I heard Canyon whisper and then look at me through the corner of his little eyes, making sure that I heard it.

“Your uh, Mom’s pancakes have always been good,” Grey said, sounding uneasy.

“You’ve had them?” Canyon asked curiously.

I found myself trying to stay busy in the kitchen to avoid eye contact with either of them.

“Many times,” Grey’s laugh made a low rumble. “She ever put marshmallows in them for you?”

“The little, tiny kind!” Canyon said.

“Yeah,” Grey chuckled again. “I taught her that.”

I felt my face blush. I focused on looking down because I did not want to meet his gaze.

“She only makes them sometimes for special stuff,” Canyon pouted. He imitated me then in a girly voice saying, “ooh! too much sugar!” Which only caused Grey to laugh more. Even after all these years, the sound of his voice stirred something inside of me and I wanted to shut it down.

Wanting to keep myself busy, I started to clean up the batter when I slammed my hip on the corner of my kitchen island. The hit caused me to drop the dirty glass measuring cup and it shattered on the floor next to me. I leaned down and held my hip bone with a wince.

Grey was up in an instant, moving toward me and I saw Canyon start to leave his seat.

“No, honey, there’s glass over here, stay put, okay?” I winced.

A second later, I felt a touch on my hip and I jumped away from it, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through me.

A low rumble of a laugh came from behind me, “Easy, it’s just me,” Grey said with wide eyes, and I felt his warmth move closer to me again.

If only he knew, I thought wryly, and shut my eyes against the throbbing pain. He tried again then, and I let him. His strong, calloused hand rubbed over my right hip bone. If the pain didn’t make me feel like crying, the nostalgia did.

“Feel okay?” he said in a low tone.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want his warm grip to leave my body. It felt so safe and calming. How pathetic of me. I had to remind myself he had left me in the dust. Where was my dignity?

“Yeah,” I moved away from his grip, but he tried to keep me there a second longer.

“You sure?” he asked. “Hell of a hip check,” he joked lightly.

I nodded, avoiding his dark rimmed eyes, and started to grab some paper towels to clean up the glass, moving slow because my hip did still hurt.

“You need some ice?” his dark eyebrows scrunched together in concern. Why was he being so nice to me now? It was easier when he was icy. I didn’t want to want him.

“It’s okay, thank you,” I said politely.

He bent down to help me pick up the large shards of glass.

He caught my eyes then and his jaw twitched, “no glass hit you, right? Leaves a hell of a scar.” I looked up to see his face turn to stone once again. Under my gaze he looked away.

I shook my head no, “I can finish this up though. Thank you for…”

He missed a beat and swallowed, “no problem, Jules.”

When he returned to his seat, he and Canyon continued talking about the team and I finished up the last batch of pancakes.

I put the last pile in front of them and turned to leave, but the boys wouldn’t have it.

“Wait, Jules…” I heard Grey say.

I turned at the edge of the kitchen, sipping my coffee. His eyes looked like they were pleading.

“Hmm?”

“You should eat,” His eyes burned holes into me, through me, taking us back to sixteen.

“Yeah, Mom! You can’t break tradition,” Canyon said.

Grey looked at him curiously, “tradition?”

“Every Sunday we stuff ourselves with pancakes,” Canyon said simply.

“Well, I can’t be the one breaking a tradition, hockey players take those seriously,” Grey smiled at him and then me.

I slowly walked back to the table and took a seat across from the boys then. My stupid stomach chose right then to let a growl out, causing both the boys to start laughing at me. I was hungry…

Maybe this could be our come to peace moment.