Chapter 46 Ventures, New and Old
VENTURES, NEW AND OLD
CASSIDY
Ren’s playoff run didn’t last long.
While it left me feeling some sort of way, he seemed to be perfectly fine about it.
Maybe it’s just because he’s living his normal life off season, and maybe he’ll feel different when preseason comes around.
But right now, he’s out here living his best life, doing as he pleases, not a single care in the world.
We usually end our evenings in our bedroom, him reading in bed and me sprawled in my chair, perusing some gossip rags or chatting with the girls.
We like to decompress and then debrief, making sure we’re checking in with each other on the little details we might overlook in the normal hustle and bustle of the day.
Pretty sure if I ask him about hockey one more time, he’s gonna lose it, so I’ve been doing my best to let it go, at least until preseason begins.
I’m in the middle of a meme war in my group chat with Issa, Jessica and Carolina when Ren shifts on the bed.
I look up and he’s sitting in his normal spot, appearing to be rather zoned out.
His thumb strokes along his jaw a bit absentmindedly, and then he murmurs, “I was talking to Declan,” he pauses and I continue to watch him, waiting for him to say something else, but when he just continues to sit there, staring out into space, I ask, “and?”
He blinks, glances at me as if he forgot I was there then says, “You know how he started doing the concert series for charity?”
“Well, yeah, I’d have to have my head completely in the sand to have missed it.”
“Do you think that would work for hockey?”
Now my brows raise. “What do you mean?”
He sighs heavily, extending a hand as if that’s going to help me understand what the hell he’s on about. “Can we do charity stuff with hockey?”
“We do tons of charity events every year; most teams do.” I respond slowly, not sure why I’m having to explain something he has been a part of for decades. “If that’s what you mean.”
He shakes his head, tosses his book on the nightstand. “I mean something bigger, something more consistent.”
“Ren,” I respond, my tone coming out slightly pissy. “I am not a mind reader, so if you have some big idea in your head, you’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”
“I want to start a league where retired players can play.”
“Like a seniors league?” I tease, immediately clearing my throat when he glares at me and retorts, “I mean more like an exhibition league. We travel to other team arenas for special events where all the proceeds are donated to charity.”
“It would be a lot of work, but of course it could be done.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“You could start with your own hockey team,” I offer helpfully.
He cocks his head at me and responds, “You mean your hockey team.”
This isn’t the first time this has come up, and it’s just as annoying now as it was every other time before. “I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this.”
“I already told you. It’s your dad’s hockey team, and then it’ll be your hockey team, and someday it will be our kid’s hockey team. That’s the way it should be, and that’s the way it will be.”
I press my lips together, wanting to continue to argue about it, but knowing it’s fruitless at this point.
After a brief standoff, I finally respond, “If you’re interested in starting any type of charity league, you’d be best served to start with Declan’s team to see if what he does and what you want to do, even coincide.
Then I’d hit up legal to see what hoops need to be jumped through to make it a lucrative enough venture to warrant all the work it will require. ”
“You think it’ll be more work than it’s worth?”
“Not necessarily,” I state, wanting to be honest but not so honest that he gives up the idea without giving it a real shot. “A heart project gets far more leeway than a true business venture. And it’s not like you’re short on startup funds, which is a far better position than most people.”
He sighs, his head falling back on the pile of pillows behind him. “You’re right. If I’m going to do this, I need to get all the information first, plan from there.”
“It’ll take some time, but doing it right will make it better in the long run.”
“I know, I know,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair briskly before looking over at me. “But I have this grand idea and I just wanna do it now, you know.”
I laugh, then smile at his enthusiasm. “Oh, I know. But it’ll come together, you’ll see.”
Nodding, then glances around the room then looks back at me and says, “You should come to bed. It’s getting late.”
I fall back in my chair, a hand resting on my forehead dramatically. “I’m stuck. I need help.”
He levels me with the same look he always gives me when I’m being a brat, but he’s already pushing the comforter back. He walks toward me slowly, doing his best to appear stern and failing miserably as he stops in front of me. “Are you going to make me carry you again?”
“Make you? Is that really a thing?”
He lifts a shoulder and responds, “Sure feels like it lately.”
“Not tonight,” I retort, holding my hand out. “Wouldn’t want you to throw out your back or anything.”
He pulls me up, then holds my hands as I sway slightly. “You okay?”
I nod swallowing the weird lump in my throat before answering, “Yeah, I’m good. Just stood up too fast.”
He squeezes my hands, dropping his head so he’s looking in my eyes. “How much longer you gonna put it off?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His lips twist, his brows raise. “Mmmhmm.”
“You’re so annoying,” I mutter as I brush by him, making a beeline for the bathroom, but he’s right behind me, apparently unwilling to let it go, so I turn back to him. “I’m not ready.”
His lips twitch, his expression amused as he retorts, “Then maybe we should’ve been using protection.”
I glare at him. “You’re not funny.”
“I am kinda funny,” he responds. “If you already took the test, I won’t be mad, Cass.”
“I didn’t.”
“Do you want to do it now?”
“I’m scared,” I confess, my heart now in my throat.
“Of what?” he asks, his voice quiet. I shrug, so he adds, “Of it being negative?” again I shrug, so he continues, “Of it being positive?”
“All of it,” I exclaim, my hands waving in the air frantically. “I’m scared that it won’t have happened but then I’m scared that it may have happened and then if it didn’t happen I’m scared it never will but if it did happen then I’m scared it’s too much too soon.”
“Maybe we should do the test so at least you have less options to be scared of?” he replies, likely thinking he’s being helpful.
“Stop being so goddamn reasonable.”
He tilts his head, watching me briefly before he turns, walks to the bathroom sink, opens the cupboard beneath it, pulls out a paper bag.
He tosses it none too gently onto the counter, opens the top, removes a small box, his eyes locked with mine as he removes the plastic around the outside.
He goes about opening the box, removing the test from the plastic wrapper before walking over to me and holding it up under my nose. “Here you go.”
“What are you doing?”
He smirks. “Not being so goddamn reasonable.”
“This is not what I meant,” I respond, taking the plastic stick from him rather gingerly.
He shrugs, moving back to the counter and leaning back against it nonchalantly. “Too late. Either you do it now or I’ll sit your ass on that toilet until you have no choice but to pee on that stick.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His smile lacks humor. “Try me.”
I study him, torn between intrigue and annoyance. Typically, Ren is the laid-back type, so him being overbearing always makes me feel a certain way.
Focus, Cassidy.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks with a knowing smirk, and I immediately check my expression, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He narrows his eyes, makes a shooing motion. “Get on with it. No trying to distract me with sex.”
Now I feign being greatly offended. “I would never.”
“Lies,” he retorts, pointing toward the door marked ‘WC’, “Get on with it.”
Sighing, I turn, slowly walk the few feet to the bathroom. I go to close the door, but he’s right there, having snuck up on me. “Leave the door open.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You’re not going to watch me pee.”
He says nothing, just leans against the doorjamb, his arms crossed in front of his chest. I wait a minute, expecting him to let me in on the joke, but when he doesn’t move I accept that I’ve pushed him too far.
He is now over-the-top Ren, and will remain so until I give in.
Then he deadpans, “Want me to hold the stick for you?”
“Oh my—” I begin, now completely exasperated by the entire situation. “That is not necessary.”
He eyes me suspiciously, so I untie my sleep pants, begin to push them down, but stop and say, “Seriously Ren, you don’t need to watch me. I’ll do it. I promise.”
At first, I think he’s not going to budge, but then, he relaxes slightly, and he pushes off the doorjamb, states, “I’ll be right out here,” then grabs the door handle, begins to pull the door closed, but I interrupt, “You can leave it open. It’s okay.”
He does as I ask with a nod then disappears from view, but I hear him at the bathroom counter, puttering around.
“You got this, Cass,” I mutter to myself then laugh that I needed a pep talk in order to pee on a damn stick.
And I honestly don’t know what I’m more afraid of; a plus sign or a negative one. Since we got back to our physical relationship we haven’t been actively trying to get pregnant, but as Ren so helpfully pointed out, not using birth control isn’t exactly trying not to get pregnant.
My doctor told me it may take time for me to conceive again, and to make an appointment with her if I start to worry it’s taking too long. The fact it’s only been a few months has me feeling nervous and overwhelmed, but at the same time the fact it’s been a few months has me scared and worried.
Making quick work of it, I make sure the tip is saturated before putting the cap on it, and setting it on the shelf. I get my clothing back to rights, pick up the test, being sure to have the results window facing away, and then exit the bathroom in a rush.
I shove the test at Ren, which he takes after a moment of surprised hesitation, then I move to the sink to wash my hands. Drying my hands, I glance at him, still standing in the same spot, holding the test, giving me a sideways look, so I ask, “What?”
“What am I doing with this?”
I lean a hip on the counter, cross my arms over my chest. “You’re holding it for three minutes and then breaking the news to me, gently.”
He checks his watch.
I check him out.
He eyes me while also eyeing his watch.
I check him out even harder.
“Stop that,” he murmurs, now entirely focused on his watch. “You’re distracting me from my time keeping.”
“I’m just standing here,” I retort. “Can’t even stand in my own bathroom anymore.”
He snorts. “More like eating me with your eyes.”
A laugh escapes my feigned outrage. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he responds. “Time’s up.”
I grimace, suddenly feeling like I’m going to vomit. He reaches for my hand, tugs me closer, wraps his arm around my back. “It’s going to be okay, Cass. Regardless of what this test shows, it’s going to be okay.”
I nod, even though it doesn’t make me feel any better. He goes to say something else but I motion to the test he’s still holding in his hand. “Get on with it, then.”
He glances at it quickly then sets it down on the counter on the other side of him. “What do you want it to be? Truly?”
Torn, I shake my head and shrug at the same time. He gives me a stern look, crosses his arms over his chest just to remind me that bossy Ren is still here. “I don’t think I’m ready. At least not today.”
He takes my hand again, this time pulling me in front of him so we’re both facing the mirror. “Then I have good news.”
My eyes close, my breath catching in my throat. I meant it when I said I wasn’t ready today, but that didn’t prepare me for the odd feeling of relieved sadness that falls over me.
He gives me a little squeeze, so I open my eyes, nodding. “It’s for the best right now.”
“If you want to give yourself adequate time, then we should use birth control.”
I make a face, suddenly exhausted but knowing we need to figure it out at some point.
“You don’t have to make any decisions right now, Cass,” Ren says softly, his hands resting over my stomach. “I know I joke about not getting any younger, but there’s no rush. We do things whenever you’re ready and not a moment before.”
“And if I’m never ready?”
“Then you’re never ready,” he answers easily. “And I never have to share you with anyone else, ever.”
I smile at him in the mirror, lean my head back against his shoulder as I think over all that has happened.
The heartache. The confusion. The pain.
The excitement. The joy. The love.
Sighing, I allow myself to enjoy the weight of his arms around me, the warmth of his breath on my neck when he lowers his head. The twinkle of mischief in his gaze when he lifts his head and winks at me in the mirror.
“We could,” I whisper, turning in his arms, my hands going to the back of his neck. “Go back to the deal.”
His eyes narrow, but his hands move to my waist then slide to my back, coming to a rest right above my ass. “You gonna try to leave me?”
I roll my eyes in response to his idiotic question and then choose to ignore it entirely. “Especially that part about the free use.”
“Free use?” he mutters, suddenly looking interested.
“Mmmhmm,” I respond, pressing my front against his. “Maybe more of that short skirt, no underpants things.”
“I’m listening.”
Going up on my toes I breathe against his ear, “Definitely the no birth control.”
His head tilts, his cheek presses against mine. He slides his down, squeezes my ass, pulls me against him. “You don’t say?”
“What do you say, babe?”
“You know what I always say when it comes to you,” he responds, that devilish twinkle back in his eyes. He leans forward, brushes his nose up my neck to my ear where he whispers, “I got you, babe…”