Chapter 25 #2
“You can have as much as you want,” he assured me.
“I can always get another one. Just make sure you cover it with insulin. I don’t want to have to tell the emergency room doc that I fed you a cinnamon roll the size of your head and that’s why you’re in a coma.
” I cackled to hide the overwhelming swell of emotion rising in my chest. It might have been said in jest, but it was a clear indication of how much he cared.
He was always checking in with me and making sure I was monitoring my glucose levels and ensuring I properly bolused myself because he knew I could be forgetful at times when I got busy.
My high and low blood sugar alarms had gone off enough when he was around that it was just second nature to him now.
I took one more bite and passed it back to him, explaining that I was full. The burrito bowl I’d already devoured had been very satiating. I quickly calculated how much extra insulin I needed to cover it and delivered the bolus.
Moments later, the puck dropped, signaling the start of the game.
Varen was a sight to behold on the ice. His speed and agility made him nearly unstoppable.
He was slammed into the boards more than a few times, and each time, he came back playing harder, a broad, almost maniacal smile stretched across his face.
He loved the physicality of the game. It fueled him to push harder, to skate faster, and to play better.
I stayed on the edge of my seat the entire game, enthusiastically cheering my cousin on.
When he scored the winning goal with less than a minute to go in the third period, I leapt from my seat, hooting in a very unladylike fashion.
Gabe stood and clapped, celebrating with me, just less enthusiastically.
I sent Varen a congratulatory text, hoping he would see it after the game when he got back to the locker room.
The crowd closed in around us as we made our way out of our section, everyone clambering to get to the exit.
Gabe’s warm hand pressed to the small of my back as he maneuvered us through the throngs of people, and the contact sent shivers up my spine.
A rowdy group of college aged guys passed by us, hollering and bouncing on their feet.
I fell against Gabe’s chest out of fear I’d get trampled, and he curled an arm around my waist protectively.
It sent my pulse into a gallop. When he reached down to grab my hand, curling his fingers around mine, the breath stuttered in my chest.
He held on to me until we reached the exit. Much to my disappointment, he released his hold once we were outside. We were walking out of the arena when my phone buzzed with an incoming message.
Varen: A few of us are going to grab drinks when we get out of here. You should join us.
Me: Got room for two? My trainer is with me.
Gabe wasn’t actually my trainer anymore, but I didn’t know how else to categorize him that would make sense. Traveling companion sounded weird, and calling him my friend would probably seem suspicious once they met.
Varen: The more the merrier.
Varen sent me the location for a local sports bar and told me they’d be there in about half an hour. Since they had won, he didn't anticipate a long, drawn out lecture from the coach about everything they did wrong.
“You up for a beer? Varen invited us out for drinks with him and some of the guys,” I told Gabe as we walked to the truck.
A look of uncertainty flashed in his eyes, but he shrugged. “Sure. You probably don’t get to see him much, do you?”
“Not really,” I replied sadly. “He travels a lot when he’s playing, and his off season is the busiest part of my year, so we rarely have a break at the same time.
I make it to one of his games every now and then when he plays in Nashville, but there’s never much time to hang out during those trips. ”
“I’m glad you’ll get to see him tonight then.
” He swallowed hard before speaking again.
“Would you prefer I drop you off and pick you up when you’re ready to leave?
This old man doesn’t want to cramp your style or interfere with your time with your cousin,” he proclaimed with a crooked grin, but I saw through it.
He was worried about us being seen out together at a bar.
He didn’t think he’d fit in since it was a younger crowd, but that didn’t matter to me.
“No way. I already told him you were coming. Besides, some of his teammates are in their thirties, and they still hang out together because they're colleagues,” I said with a shrug, emphasizing the word colleagues. “You might not even be the oldest one there,” I added, nudging him playfully with my elbow. I wasn’t sure who the oldest player on Varen’s team was, but there were guys in the league still who were in their late thirties, so anything was possible.
He chewed on that for a moment before agreeing. “Okay,” he said as we reached the truck.
Before I could open my door, my insulin pump vibrated at my hip. I glanced at it to find the battery was low. There were more back at the trailer. I would just have to remember to change it when we got back.
That was easier said than done.