CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Aspen
July 24, 1997
My Dearest Aspen,
My heart is so incredibly full, but at the same time it’s severely broken. Today your mother gave birth to my sweet little girl. Though I was not there to witness your birth, nor to hold you as I so desperately desired, I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty there is no greater love than what I feel for you, my darling. I’ll never understand how I can love so deeply someone I’ve never met nor laid eyes on. When your mother phoned to tell me about you . . . the blush on your cheeks and your head full of thick, black hair . . . I could not help but envision a smaller version of her, though your mother thinks you look like me. She said it’s still too soon to tell what color your eyes are, but I wonder if you will have her brown or my green? One thing you should never doubt, my darling, is that you will always have my heart. I truly wish we didn’t have to protect you this way and that I could be present, but this life will leave you to be scrutinized, and sometimes it can be dangerous. I do not want you in the public eye. One day you will understand. The pain I feel from being apart from you and your mother is crippling, but it’s a decision she and I made together. I dream of a day we can meet in person, and I can only hope you will forgive me. I pray you will give me a chance to explain everything to you, maybe when you’re old enough to bear the weight of what this kind of life entails . . .
Slamming the journal shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Deep guttural sobs wrack from the depth of my soul. This is too much; I can’t read the rest of this here. Cal’s strong arms come around me, and I tilt my chin up to look at him. I’m unable to mask the pain. My mother was robbed of the love of her life, and I was robbed of a father. The unfairness of the situation unsettles me. One thing is for certain from the contents of all of these journal entries: even though my father was absent, he loved me.
I sift through the journals and pick a random one in the pile. I flip the pages to the middle of the worn book. As I read, my lips tremble, and my heart begins to ache. Tears pour down my cheeks. Reading about the heartache my father has endured has given me a different perspective. Suddenly, I’m lifted out of the chair bridal style as Cal takes my place and situates me over his lap. He holds me until my sobs taper off and I’ve collected myself.
I reach over and close the journal. “I think the answers to all my questions are in these journals. We need to get out of here before the storm hits. Can you help me carry these to the truck?” My voice is hoarse and broken. I extract myself from his lap, deciding to come back another day to tackle everything else.
“Sure.” He places a kiss on my temple, then I hand him the stack of journals.
Even though I’m heartbroken, a sense of peace settles over me as I lock up the house and make my way to the truck. I plaster on a smile of gratitude as Cal opens my door, even though I don’t feel like smiling at all. Once we’re both in the truck, he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“What do you need from me? What can I do?” His eyes trace my face as he holds my hand with both of his to his lips.
I exhale a long breath. “Will you stay with me?”
“I was planning on it.”
Cal coasts down the drive to begin our journey back home as I reflect on my dad’s words. I think back to the paparazzi surrounding us. That situation must have been so scary for Tucker. Hell, it scared the hell out of me. They still follow me around, but they don’t get close anymore. I exhale a resigned sigh as understanding washes over me. Seeing my son on the ground like that was . . . terrifying. I don’t know why I’ve never thought to hire private security for Tucker.
I’m lost deep in thought when the tail end of Cal’s truck fishtails. Grabbing ahold of the door, my heart leaps into my throat, “Oh my god!” I let out a gasp.
“You alright, Angel?”
“Yep. Just wondering who it is that can’t drive for shit.” I chuckle, trying to ease the tension.
Freezing rain is drizzling down on the roads, and they’re becoming slick. I know it’s not Cal’s fault the truck skidded off to the side like that, but damn, I almost had a heart attack. He jumped off the interstate once we got closer to home. I argued with him because, duh, the state is more likely to salt the interstates than the side streets, but what do I know? I’m just a country bumpkin with little experience with how the state of New York handles the roads. I understand where he’s coming from, though. He said he witnessed a terrible pileup on the highway a couple of years back and would rather us slide off the road than be smashed by several vehicles. I’m surprised he didn’t just take us to a hotel for the night.
“Thirty more minutes until we’re home.” He grips the steering wheel tight, his knuckles turning white. We’re about fifteen miles from my house, but he’s driving about twenty to thirty miles an hour.
I blow out a puff of air and try to take my racing mind off of the hazardous road conditions. A lot can happen in fifteen miles with how this rain is freezing so fast. Even though he’s driving like a grandpa, I’m genuinely scared.
We have snow and ice storms in Oklahoma, but they’re usually mild. I can count on one hand how many times we’ve had a major ice storm in my twenty-seven years, and that’s maybe twice. I remember a particularly bad one when trees and power lines were snapping left and right. Now, at the news of winter weather, people run to the grocery store to buy out bread and milk, leaving the shelves barren, as if the icepocalypse is bearing down on us.
I think that stems from the one and only ice storm that had us out of power for an entire week. I can’t really remember how old I was; I might have been ten at the time. I woke up one morning to pouring down rain and no power. River and Marcy drove their side-by-side to our house, and we all had a weeklong slumber party. We huddled up in front of the fireplace, keeping warm, playing games, and roasting marshmallows. Mom and Marcy cooked our meals over the fire and found interesting ways to keep us entertained. It’s one of my favorite memories.
“I have a question.”
“Hit me with it.”
“You don’t have to answer this one if it’s too hard.”
He side-eyes me. “I’ll try.”
I worry my bottom lip and fiddle with the air vents to give myself something to do. “What’s the one memory you don’t ever want to let go of?”
“Oh, this should be fun,” he laughs with a playful smile on his face.
“You totally don’t have to answer,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m game. Am I allowed to use two memories in conjunction with each other?”
“Sure,” I shrug. “Why not?” I beam.
These past couple of weeks, Cal has been opening up and sharing more about his life, but I still tread carefully.
“The moment you got smart with me about knowing who I was, combined with Tuck’s ‘Do you know who he is? He’s Callan Miles.’ Now, that . . . was funny shit. I could hold on to the look on your face for the rest of my damn life.”
I roll my eyes. “I shouldn’t have even asked.”
We slide to a stop at a stop sign, and he turns his head toward me. “I’m kidding.” He sighs, “The one memory I would most hold onto is the moment Tuck stood on the ice and asked me to teach him to play hockey.”
My head jerks back, and a frown tugs at my brows. “W—why? There must be better memories to choose from.”
“Nope.” He turns the heat up and continues ahead. “That’s the one.”
Well, that’s unexpected. I figured there would be a memory of his late wife, and maybe there is, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. “But why? I mean, it’s not the most sentimental memory.”
“Well, it kinda is. That was the moment everything changed for us, and that’s the moment Tuck became mine.”
“Tuck became yours . . .” I repeat.
“Yup.” He pops the p. “That moment led me to falling in love with you.”
First, he’s talking about us moving in together, and now he’s placing his claim on my son? What’s next? Marriage and babies? This is all moving too fast. I don’t even know if we are going to last. Don’t get me wrong; I want us to. I love this man with my whole heart, but what if he decides to sign on with another team clear across the country?
His contract is up for renewal, and all I’ve heard from his agent is that they are considering their options. If he takes another contract, it’s not as if I’m in a position to just up and move. I have responsibilities here: to my team and to Tucker.
“You’re quiet. What’s on your mind?”
Before I can answer, my phone rings. Mom’s name flashes on the screen. I press the green accept button and place her on speaker. “Hi, Mom.”
“Thank God. How close are you? The roads are beginning to freeze, and the news is talking about a pileup on I-278.”
Cal raises an eyebrow as if to say, I told you so. “Hi Katherine. We’re almost home. I’m taking it slow, but we’ll be there in about five to ten minutes,” he says.
“Okay, sweetheart. See y’all when ya get here. Be safe.” The phone beeps three times, indicating she’s disconnected the call.
“My God, you two are so country.” He laughs.
God, he has a nice laugh and pretty teeth. Hockey guys aren’t supposed to be model gorgeous or have pretty teeth. That thought strikes up another question.
“Why do the guys on the team call you Smiley?”
He laughs. “Well, did you ever see me smiling when you first met me?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
We slide to another stop sign just outside of our estate. He turns his head and winks. “Exactly. It was Carter who started it. My last name is Miles, and usually teammates would put a y on that, but since I was a brooding asshole . . .”
“Carter named you Smiley,” I finish for him. “That’s clever. So if you weren’t a broody ass, then they would have called you Miley?” A laugh bursts from my lips.
“Milesy, and don’t you start that shit. It’s already bad enough that the guys call me Smiley,” He laughs.
“I like Miley better . . . Ooh, or I could just call you Cyrus.”
He side-eyes me with a glare.
I throw my hands up. “What? No one would even know what’s going on. I could confuse the hell out of everyone. It could be our thing.”
“It will not be our thing. Hotshot is our thing.” He peeks over and shakes his head. “You just wait until I get you home.”
“Okaaay, Billy Ray.”
He shakes his head, and we both bust up laughing as we pull up to the security booth at our estate.The security guard is absent. Cal presses a code into the keypad, and the gate opens.
We finally arrive home and burst through the door laughing. Both of us are soaked and shivering. “I’ll grab us a towel. Just go to the laundry room and strip off that shirt.”
“Oh good, you’re both home safe.” My mom comes around the corner. She lowers her voice, “Tucker is in his room. Something at school upset him, and he won’t talk to me.”
I run upstairs, with Cal following behind me, and open Tucker’s door. “Hey, buddy.”
Tucker lays on his bed tossing a hockey puck in the air before catching it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Tuck.” Cal walks into the room and sits in the desk chair next to Tucker’s bed. “What’s going on?”
“It’s stupid.”
I pinch my bottom lip, look to Cal, then back to Tucker. “Well, if it’s so stupid, then why are you so upset?” I sit on the end of his bed; the mattress squeaks under my weight as I shift.
Tucker rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Okay, so you don’t want to talk to me about it. I’ll give you some space.” I lift myself from the bed. When I make it to the door, I stop and look over. Cal hasn’t moved.
He leans back and spreads out in the chair, making no attempt at following me. I leave them and walk to my master bathroom. Pulling a couple of towels out of the cabinet, I lay them on the counter. A hot shower sounds nice right about now, so I strip out of my wet clothes and step into the shower. The water stings at first, but my body soon adjusts.
Grabbing my lavender wash, I scrub my body, noticing the bruising love bites Callan left behind between my legs. The small bruises on my thighs are purple and a good reminder of where he’s been. A smile spreads across my face as I think back to last night. I’m deliciously sore.
I step out of the shower, dress, then make my way back to Tucker’s room, where I stand outside the door, eavesdropping.
“I feel so stupid,” Tucker’s voice carries into the hallway along with controllers clicking and the sound of a video game. “Oh man, no, go back the other way; you can attack from the side.”
“You’re not stupid. You’re the smartest kid I know.”
“And just how many kids do you know?”
“A lot, and not a single one of them is as smart as you.”
The hallway is filled with buttons clicking, but they’ve stopped talking, so I take that as my cue to move towards the room, but when I hear Cal’s voice again, I stop.
“Look, Tuck.” He releases a deep breath, and the game silences. “That kid’s delivery could have been a lot better. Actually, it wasn’t his place to say anything at all, but some kids are just assholes. My question is, does it matter? I’m right here, choosing you every single day. I do the same things with you.” Tucker remains quiet.
“You don’t have to answer that. I’ve been where you are, and I understand where you’re coming from. You know, I didn’t have a dad either until I was adopted.” “You were adopted?”
“Yeah.” Callan’s voice is hoarse and a little broken. “He’s the best man I know. When I was a teenager and would see my friends with their fathers, I would get jealous that I didn’t know my own. But, when I grew older, I realized that the man who adopted me chose me, and how awesome is it for someone to handpick you to be their son?”
“You would be the best dad.” Tucker says. “I just wish that you dating my mom made you my dad.”
My chest aches, and a tear falls down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. Damn it! My heart breaks for my son.
Why? Why does this keep happening? This generational bondage just keeps repeating over and over, and I’m sick of it. I’m just glad Cal was able to talk him through whatever the kid said to upset him. I hear the game start back up again and decide to head downstairs to talk to my mom about the journals and give the boys time together.
I find Mom sitting at the island, her mind elsewhere, with a mug in her hand. “Hi, Mama.”
She jumps, and her hand flies to her chest. “Dear lord, Aspen. You scared me half to death.”
I saunter into the kitchen and pull a mug out of the cabinet, filling it with coffee. “Lost in thought?” I place the coffee pot back on the warmer and sit beside her.
“Just worried about you and Tucker. I messed everything up good. I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. I know today was hard for you. It seems like it was a hard day for Tucker too.” She holds her mug in both hands, turning it this way and that.
“Well, I didn’t know it at the time, but I think I’ve found closure where my dad is concerned. I just want it to end here in this very moment. I’m afraid I’m always going to struggle with abandonment issues, but I’m going to work on that. I think I’m going to hire a sports psychologist for the team. I’ll find someone who is willing to take me on too. I also think it’s time to put Tucker in counseling.”
She sips her coffee, the steam rising from her mug. “You think Cal will take advantage of that opportunity?”
I shrug, “I don’t know, but at least a counselor will be available if he chooses to. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but from what I gathered, Tuck thought by me dating Cal, it made Cal his dad. Like, where did that even come from?”
“Well.” Mom moves my hair off of my shoulder. “He probably has friends with step-parents. That would be my guess.”
I huff a breath. “Maybe. Cal called him "his" on the way home, and it scared me. I internally freaked out. Why do I think every man is going to walk away, Mom? It’s a genuine fear of mine.”
Mom stands and walks over to the sink, dumps out her coffee, then washes her mug. “Why is that a bad thing? Him claiming Tucker, I mean. He has been a father figure to him for the past six months now, and he hasn’t let him down yet. What makes you so sure he’s going to? Those boys have a bond so deep that I can guarantee you, without a shadow of a doubt, that if something happened between you two and y’all broke up, he would continue to fill that role.”
“I would,” Cal’s voice comes from behind me, causing our heads to turn. Fuck my life, he just heard all of that. He leans over and kisses me on the top of my head. “But nothing is going to happen, and we aren’t breaking up . . . ever; not as far as I’m concerned, so you can go ahead and cast those fears aside. I love him, Angel, and I love you. I’ll remind you as many times as I have to that I’m not going anywhere.”
Mom winks, then sits down beside me. “See? Now, tell me how today went.”
I fill her in on the journals sitting in the backseat of Cal’s truck and tell her about the house. “He loved you, baby. I know you don’t understand why he did . . .”
I cut her off, “Mom. I get it. I don’t agree with it, but I understand it. You both did what you thought was best. I can respect that. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though, and it doesn’t mean your choices didn’t mess me up.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I need to come to terms with this. I need to move on and stop letting this hold me back. Ultimately, it is what it is, and I have to stop holding it over my mom’s head. It’s time to move forward and start putting that part of my life behind me.
“I know.” I stand and wrap my arms around her. “I forgive you, Mom. I know you had the best of intentions at heart. I love you for that.”
Tears slide down my mom’s cheek. “Thank you.”
I wipe her tears. “Don’t cry, Mama. It’s time to heal and move on. I don’t know about you, but we’ve had a long, emotional day, so Cal and I are going to bed.” I kiss her forehead then give her another hug.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” we both say in unison as Cal takes my hand and leads me upstairs.