Chapter 8 #2
And yeah, maybe my schedule has changed a little. Maybe it feels a little weird to take other people into consideration before I do things that I normally wouldn’t give a second thought, like keeping some clothes on for the sauna or making sure there are kid-friendly food options in the fridge.
They’re small things, but they can start to add up over the course of a week that’s built on a thousand small, consistent routines.
“Are you guys done?” I interrupt their relentless commentary about my impending nervous breakdown and head toward the goal—the place where I really do call the shots and can make them eat some of their words.
“For now,” Reese calls after me. “But we’re gonna keep an eye on you, Parker. This could turn out better than reality TV.”
I tune them out and fall into my practice routine, shutting down my brain and letting my reflexes take over for the next two hours until it’s time for our cool-down skate and a quick team meeting back in the locker room.
As I’m pulling off my gear and mostly ignoring Reese’s story about some new restaurant he and Callie went to last night, I see my phone light up and buzz with a text.
The name that flashes on the screen makes my stomach do something weird.
Heather.
I reach for it as nonchalantly as possible, praying nobody is close enough to look over my shoulder. Getting texts from her at practice would only add fuel to the fire, and I’d never hear the end of it.
Still, there’s no way I’m going to put off reading it just so these guys will stay off my back. I’d never forgive myself if something was actually wrong and she needed me.
I swipe to open the message and instantly feel my stomach unclench a little once I’m sure it’s not an emergency.
HEATHER: Hi, Grant. I know you said it was no big deal earlier, but I’m so sorry about leaving such a mess in the kitchen this morning. I hope you’ll let Colin know that I’ll take care of it as soon as I get home!
I start to smile but stop myself again. Wrong place. Wrong time.
At least this will be an easy reply.
ME: What mess?
Three dots appear to show that she’s typing, and now I feel like I can’t set my phone down without missing what she’s going to say.
HEATHER: Ha. That’s nice of you to say, but we both know that kitchen was in rough shape when I left, and definitely not because of you!
ME: Trust me, Colin has seen worse. Much worse.
The reply is instant.
HEATHER: From you? I find that very hard to believe.
Her dry humor almost makes me laugh out loud. She isn’t trying to flirt or impress me. She’s just making conversation with that quick wit and straightforward honesty that I’ve come to appreciate so much from her.
“Earth to Parker. You still with us, man?” Reese’s voice is like a bucket of cold water in the middle of the best dream.
I fumble with my phone, nearly dropping it as I shove it into my pocket.
“Yeah, sorry, I was just checking on something.”
Noah tosses me a knowing look. “Something? Or someone?”
My ears are getting warm and the rest of the guys are starting to look this way with exactly the kind of nudges and smirks I’ve been trying to avoid.
It turns out I haven’t done myself any favors by sitting here and grinning at my phone this whole time.
“Something,” I answer, hoping there’s enough bite in my tone to shut down any other questions.
But of course Sawyer has to put his two cents in. “Must be a pretty interesting something to put that look on your face.”
I’m not taking the bait this time, though. And luckily, it’s time for my one-on-one conditioning on the other side of the facility. After that, I’ll have an ice bath and a massage, right on time, just like I always do.
I’m tempted to point it out to my teammates, to put it on the record that my routine is still very much intact, but I know it won’t do any good.
The guys will double down on their jokes and I’ll cause myself more annoyance than it’s worth.
Instead, I finish my post-practice routine and make it back out to my car without any more commentary from the peanut gallery.
My drive home feels shorter than normal, even with the added stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things for Heather and April. And even though I plan on sticking to my routine once I get home, I’m looking forward to checking in on them and seeing how their day went.
The first thing I notice when I pull through the gate is that the lights are on in the house, and it looks so different that I honestly just sit in the car and stare for a solid ten or fifteen seconds before I cut the engine and get out.
This is what my house looks like when it’s lived in, and I have to admit that I like it. It looks right.
It’s easy to imagine Heather and April sitting on the couch, talking and laughing while they watch their favorite shows.
The thought makes me smile as I walk up to the front door and let myself in.
And then my smile immediately falters. I can tell as soon as I set the groceries down on the kitchen counter that something is wrong.
Heather is at the kitchen table by herself, not relaxing comfortably on the couch with her daughter like I’d imagined. She’s looking out the window with a sort of blank expression, and only seems to notice that I’ve walked in after I clear my throat.
“Is, uh, everything okay?” I ask even though I already know the short answer to that question.
“Yeah, it’s…” Her voice trails off, then she shakes her head. “Well, no. Not really. It’s been a hell of a day, if you honestly want to know.”
“I do want to know.” The groceries can wait. I walk over and sit down in the chair next to her, giving her my full attention. “Do you want to talk about it?” Before she can answer, another thought hits me. “Is April okay?”
She nods. “She’s upstairs taking a nap before dinner. She had a rough day too.”
“What happened?”
Her shoulders sag a little, and I wonder for a moment if she’s going to shut down without telling me what’s going on. Still, I don’t push or try to rush her. If she wants to talk, we’ll talk. If she doesn’t, we won’t.
When she finally speaks again, her voice is quiet and strained. “Remember how excited April was when we left here this morning?”
I nod. “She seemed a little nervous, but mostly excited for her first day at the new school.”
“Exactly. I had high hopes that it was going to be a good day, but it was barely past lunchtime when she called me at work, asking—no, begging—me to come get her and take her home.”
“From what I could gather, a couple of girls were being rude to her. It started in her first hour class and went through the whole morning, I guess.”
“Where were the teachers? The adults who could’ve stopped it?”
“April didn’t tell anyone until lunchtime, when I guess she finally broke down crying.
The teachers can only stop something like that if they see what’s going on or they’re told about it.
I just wish I had been able to do something about it, but this was my first day in my new position and leaving work early just wasn’t a possibility. ”
I don’t know what to say. I can feel the anger—irrational anger—bubbling up inside me at the thought of anyone mistreating April. She’s such a sweet kid, and just wanted to have a good day at school.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer. “We have an away game this week, so I’ll be out of town for the next couple of days. When I get back, though, we can—”
“No,” she interrupts. “Thank you, but no. I don’t want you to take on my problems. April and I have made it this far on our own. We’ll still manage.”
Her refusal stings a little, but I don’t blame her. She’s had a long day, and this is one of those times when I can’t swoop in and make everything better in an instant.
“Thanks again for just listening. Sometimes that helps more than anything.”
“No problem. I’m here anytime.”
She pushes herself up out of the chair with a heavy sigh and at least offers a small smile.
“I should go check on April. Maybe bring her a sandwich or something, since she barely touched her lunch.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I watch her move around the kitchen as she prepares a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the kind of quick efficiency that comes from years of putting someone else’s needs above her own.
There’s something familiar about the way she cuts off the crusts without thinking, or the way she adds a few crackers to the plate like it’s second nature.
It reminds me of the way my own parents were always right there when I needed them, driving me to the rink at five in the morning without complaining, even though I know they would’ve rather been sleeping.
Or the way my mom used to pack my lunches for hockey camp, making sure I had enough food to get me through a double practice.
They both sacrificed so much of their time, money, and their own comfort so I could chase my dream, because that’s what parents do.
They put their kids first, even when it costs them everything.
“Time to go be a mom,” Heather says as she disappears upstairs with the plate.
Once I’m alone in the kitchen, I think back to what she said.
I don’t want you to take on my problems. April and I have made it this far on our own. We’ll still manage.
And of course she’s right. Heather has been handling everything by herself for a long time, and she’s done a damn good job of it. April is proof of that. She’s smart, funny, and strong even with today’s setback.
So no, Heather doesn’t need me to swoop in and fix her problems.
The thing is, I want to. Not because she can’t handle it, but because I’ve seen what it looks like when someone sacrifices everything for their kid. And maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe I’m even being stupid, but I want to be the person who makes her life a little easier.