Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Jeremy
“ W hat happened to your knee?”
Our cereal taste testing is long over with the Cinnamon Toast Crunch/Reese’s Peanut Butter Puff with vanilla milk combination winning by a landslide. I’m just about to get up to clear the table when Maddy asks the innocent question.
My stomach clenches.
I look over at her, but her attention is focused squarely on the network of scars that bisect my right knee. Even years after my injury, the best scar creams money could buy, and an ill-advised attempt at laser scar removal in my late twenties, the scars stand out like beacons. A visual reminder of the worst day of my life, destined to mark me for as long as I live.
Emotion fills my chest and my heart pounds as my mind is assaulted with memories of that day. Fighting with the other team’s defenseman for the puck. A brutal check to the boards. A tangle of players. My right leg caught in the scuffle. Not being able to free it. The snap of ligaments and crack of bones. Falling. The wet cold of the ice seeping through my pads and jersey. My stomach roiling as every beat of my heart sent knives of pain shooting down my leg. The silence of the arena.
I realize I’ve been silent for too long when Emma’s hand closes gently over my forearm. Her skin on mine brings me back to the present. My breathing is shallow, sweat prickling my neck. But warmth flows from the spot where she touches me, and her steady gaze settles my breathing. Calms my pounding heart. She doesn’t look concerned about my sudden silence. She’s not judging my inability to remember the day I was injured without reliving it, even all these years later.
Instead, her gaze is knowing. Kind. It says, it’s okay . I’m here .
I don’t know how it’s possible that I can read her mind like this, but I can hear her voice as if she spoke the words directly to me. With Emma’s hand on me and two sets of green eyes watching, I feel like maybe it is. Or at least, with Emma, it could be.
I clear my throat, focusing my attention on Maddy across the table from me.
“I used to play on a hockey team right here in Pittsburgh. I broke my leg during a game, and I had to have surgery to fix it. That’s how I got the scars.”
It’s the simplest answer I can give, and she seems to accept it, but her gaze drifts from my face to my leg and back again.
“Is hockey dangerous?”
“Sometimes it can be. But mostly, it’s fun.”
“Do you still play?”
My throat starts to clog up again and I cough to try and shove it down. I’m a live wire. Flayed open and exposed by the simple but not so simple questions of a seven-year-old.
“I don’t. I haven’t played in a long time.”
Maddy opens her mouth and closes it again, and I can tell there’s something else she wants to say. Emma told me Maddy didn’t talk much but she’s on a roll, so even though her questions are of the inadvertently torture the already tortured ex-hockey player kind, I want to encourage her to keep talking.
“What’s on your mind Little Red?”
Her eyes light up at the nickname, and Emma doesn’t miss it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her eyes light up too and I take a chance, sliding my left leg over towards her under the table and hooking my foot around hers. I see her mouth turn up in a small smile, and she doesn’t move her foot away.
It feels like a victory.
“The dad in the house I used to live in before I was here liked hockey too. He said he would teach me to skate, but then he got a new job, and they had to move away, so he never did. Could you teach me how to skate?”
I fucking wish I could teach you to skate .
I can’t, so I offer her what I can.
“Learning to skate is so much fun, Little Red. I have a hockey camp at my work. There’s a beginner class on Tuesdays after school and if you join, you can learn to skate with the rest of the kids.”
Maddy’s face explodes in a smile so huge every other thought leaves my brain. I want to give this little girl the whole entire world.
“Can I?” she asks Emma, voice laced with hope.
“Of course you can.” Emma’s voice shakes just a little, and I press my knee against hers, offering her whatever comfort I can. “I think it’s a great idea. I love to skate.”
“You do?” Maddy and I say it at the same time.
Emma scoffs. “Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”
“Um, a lot of people,” I say, my mind conjuring up an image of Emma, cheeks and nose red from the cold, whizzing around a skating rink, red ponytail flying behind her. There is nothing sexual about the image, but my dick doesn’t seem to care, and blood pools in my groin. I shift in my chair and try to think about literally anything else. This is a really inconvenient time for a hard-on.
“Well, I’m not people.” She turns her attention to Maddy. “In a couple months, when it’s wintertime, I’ll take you to the outdoor skating rink not far from here. It’s one of my favorite places. We can skate together.”
Maddy gives Emma another one of her bright smiles
“I’d like that.”
Emma reaches across and gives Maddy’s hand a squeeze. “Me too. Now, what do you think about shower time?”
Maddy nods her head and gets up from the table. She reaches for one of her bowls—we each used at least three—but I stop her. “I’ll take care of that, Little Red. This cereal competition was my idea, so I’ll clean up while you take your shower.”
“Okay, thanks Jeremy.”
“Do you need help with your shower?” Emma asks.
Maddy hesitates, then shakes her head slowly in a way that makes me think she wants to say yes. I’m not surprised Emma picks up on it too.
“Maybe I could come sit on your bed, so I’ll be close by in case you need me?”
Maddy shrugs casually. “That would be okay.”
“It’s a plan. After your shower, I’ll stay with you while you read.”
“I don’t want to read to myself tonight. Can he read to me?” Maddy points at me and I freeze, not sure what to say. I’ve never read to a kid before. But then I see Emma’s expression and I read it clearly.
If you say no to her, I will end you .
Smothering both a laugh and a shot of arousal at the daggers in Emma’s eyes, I do exactly what she says.
“I would love that. I’ll clean up while you take your shower and then meet you in your room when you’re ready. Sound good?”
She nods and heads upstairs with Emma while I clean the kitchen and wonder how to read to a seven-year-old.
It turns out, it’s pretty easy, and might be my new favorite thing.
Sitting next to Maddy on her bed, my back against the headboard, she hands me the first Harry Potter book.
“Where should we start, Little Red?”
She looks down at her hands and talks in a low voice tinged with embarrassment. “I tried starting it myself, but I had trouble with a lot of the words.”
“That’s okay. You’re still learning to read. I bet in a couple of months you’ll be able to fly through any book you pick up. But you know what?”
“What?” she asks, lifting her head and meeting my eyes.
“I’ve never read Harry Potter before. Maybe we should start from the beginning so I can catch up.”
“That’s a good idea,” she says, settling back against her pillows.
I open the book and start to read. Maddy is a captive audience. She gasps and giggles over Harry’s life with the Dursleys, and she has a few choice words about Dudley and Uncle Vernon. About halfway through the third chapter, Maddy leans her head against my shoulder, and I swear to Gretzky my heart grows ten sizes.
Ten minutes later, her eyes start to droop so I set the book on her nightstand and sit a few more minutes, not wanting to wake her with any sudden movement. Motion in the doorway to Maddy’s room has me looking up to see Emma standing there, watching us with a soft smile on her face. When our gazes lock, my heart stutters. With her eyes on me and Maddy asleep with her head on my shoulder, the moment feels like something I haven’t experienced but that is imprinted onto the most primal part of my being. Like something I should understand but don’t. In a rush of clarity, I realize what it is.
Family. It feels like family .
I could feel sorrow for the younger version of me who never had someone read to him before bed. I could feel sad that this amazing little girl is moving from house to house just like I did, never finding her forever place. I could be angry that there are so many other kids like her. Like me. I could feel all those things.
But I don’t.
Instead, all I feel is gratitude to be here now, and a mysterious longing to grab on with both hands and hold on tight. To never let it go. That thought should scare me because I don’t do permanent. Nothing lasts forever. Better to let it go than keep it close and be shredded when it disappears. But for the first time in my life, I can’t make that feeling stick. Instead, I think about more nights like this and a family of my own and the courage to take it and trust that it would stay.
And the only girl I think I would ever want that with by my side as I try.