Christian Garcia, a struggling international student and seasonal hire at Nova Arena, discovers he's inherited a unique healing gift from his grandmother. Desperate to keep his job, Christian offers his therapeutic touch to Zane Wilder, a hockey sta...
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Back in Toronto, life settled into its usual rhythm.
I was back at school, juggling assignments and work after my reading week. It was nice to get back to some kind of routine, but part of me missed the adrenaline of flying and the thrill of watching the away games.
One night, as I was finally tackling my backlog of schoolwork, my phone buzzed. It was my dad, calling on video.
I sighed, fixed my hair a bit, and hit accept.
"Hey, Dad."
He squinted at the screen, trying to find his glasses. "Christian, you look tired. Are they working you to the bone over there?"
I huffed a laugh. "Nah. Just trying to manage school and work. You know how it is."
He nodded. "You eating properly? You look thinner."
"I guess that's just the camera, Dad. I'm still the same guy."
He gave me a stern look. "You need to take care of yourself, anak ko. Eat properly, and make sure you're getting enough sleep, okay? And while you're at it, make time for family over there."
That last part caught my attention. "What do you mean?"
"You remember your cousins in Mississauga, right?"
"Vaguely?"
"They're your second cousins. Your Uncle Marlon's kids."
"Oh. Right." I tried not to sound too disinterested.
"They heard you're in Toronto. They want to meet you."
"Uh..." I trailed off, not sure how to respond. I never really liked interacting with relatives that much. "Wait, really? But... I've never even met them."
My father's face hardened a little. "It's family, Christian. You shouldn't be embarrassed. You're all alone there. It's good to have family close by. Besides, you might need their help someday."
"I don't know. It just feels... weird. Like I'm showing up out of nowhere."
Dad gave me the look—the one that could shut down any excuse with a single raised eyebrow. "That's nonsense! They reached out, didn't they? And you're not a stranger, you're their cousin. Trust me, one day you'll be glad they're close."
I rubbed my temples. "Okay, fine. I'll message them."
Dad smiled, clearly satisfied. "That's my boy. Be polite and show respect. You never know, they might become your support system there."
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
We talked a bit more before hanging up, and I added meeting the Mississauga cousins to my ever-growing to-do list.
*
The next morning at Nova Arena, I was running inventory checks with Glen. We were sorting through some old gear when Glen grunted and nodded toward the entrance.
