Page 77 of All That Glitters

“That explains why she keeps dodging my attempts to schedule time together. She must be busy but doesn’t want to tell me no.”

I sigh as I finish slicing the brownies.

“I think she’s in over her head, but doesn’t want to admit it. I’ve been trying to help her.”

Mom nods in understanding. “Sometimes we have to hit rock bottom before we’ll accept the kind of help that makes a difference.”

“I don’t want to push her too much, but it’s hard watching her kill herself for something I don’t think she wants.”

There’s something about standing in the kitchen with my mom that always makes me say more than I plan to. It’s probably why she insisted I come in here.

“The paper?” Mom guesses as she starts to place brownies in the bowls.

I bob my head. “She's a phenomenal reporter. But she loves literature. When she talks about fiction, it’s like her soul lights up. I think she sticks to writing articles because it’s less vulnerable.”

I reach for the ice cream carton, knowing that my mom will try once and then ask me to use my hockey muscles to finish the job.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

I find the ice cream scoop and get to work.

“No, I’ve been afraid to after—” I cut myself off, realizing to my parents there’s no after.

“After?” she presses.

“After we started dating,” I lie, but it’s only a partial one. The timing checks out. “I don’t want to mess things up.”

She gives me an encouraging smile and pats my shoulder.

“You two have been best friends since elementary school. She knows you love her and want the best for her. If there’s anyone who could talk to her, it’s you.”

If only that were true. I messed up, and though Marigold forgave me, I doubt that me telling her to quit the paper would go over well. Even if she should. The time she spends on it could be used to catch up on school and then focus on what her real passion is: writing novels.

“I’ll try to talk to her soon. In the meantime, maybe hold off on asking for one of your days together. At least until spring break.”

She looks disappointed by my suggestion, but she nods her agreement. We take the bowls back to the table, where Marigold and my dad are talking about the hockey season so far.

“I think we’re on a smooth road to the championship,” Marigold says, pausing to smile and thank me when I hand her a bowl. “Barring a pothole or two with certain teams.”

“The Diamondbacks,” Dad says, and she nods. “I agree. If we get past that, we’re in the clear.”

“You two have a lot of confidence for people who aren’t on the team,” I joke.

Marigold rolls her eyes. “We’re honorary coaches.”

“I’m sure Coach Rhodes would love to hear that.”

She scrunches her nose. “If he took more advice from me, y’all would be better off.”

I chuckle. “We’re undefeated.”

“Yeah, but you’d have bigger leads,” my dad chimes in, and Marigold points at him like he has a valid point.

“A win is a win,” I reply.

“And a strong lead is what secures that win and doesn’t leave you in danger when the Diamondbacks are on the ice,” Marigold shoots back.

“I’ve missed this,” Mom says before taking a bite of her brownie sundae.