Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
R en
“What was that?” Trix asks as soon as my mother is out of earshot.
“I know, I’m sorry. She can be a bit much.” I scrub a hand over my face and try to explain why she’s so protective of me. “I’m her only son, and it’s just been the two of us since I was six years old.”
Trix steers us past my car and down the block. I don’t ask her why because I assume she just feels like walking while we talk, but the reason becomes clear a second later when we’re standing outside an ice cream store.
“Did you two have some sort of pact that you’d never be a father? What did she mean when she said you used to say that?”
“Because I always told her I didn’t plan to have kids.” I hold up a hand before Trix can freak out. “But that was then. I didn’t know what I was talking about. I just knew I had a shitty father, and I didn’t want to be like him. Saying that to her was me being a dick, taking out my frustrations. It has nothing to do with our situation.”
“Sure, because you’re a committed guy. Of course you’ll follow through, but that doesn’t mean this is what you want.”
She pulls open the door to the ice cream place and waits for me to follow her in, but I don’t. She lets the door swing shut and rejoins me on the sidewalk. “No ice cream for you?”
“Trix.” I grab both of her hands and pull her close enough that our chests are nearly touching, our hands sandwiched between us. Her pale blue eyes hit me like lakes I want to wade into and never leave. “ This. This is what I want. I’ll say it every hour of every day until you believe me. I want this baby with you. I really, really do.”
Her eyes soften and go a little glassy. “Me too.”
Reaching for my hand, she interlaces our fingers. I take the opportunity to guide her into the ice cream store, where we each order a double cone. She chooses two different types of chocolate, and I opt for mocha fudge. Trix smiles as she takes the first lick. “I swear, when people say pregnant women are eating for two, they’ve never met me. I think I’m eating for six.”
“Maybe you’ll give birth to a hockey team.”
“Heaven forbid.”
I make a mock-offended gasp.
“Look, I love me a hockey player—you know that. There’s nothing like you and your muscles, Dominick Renaldi, and I like what goes on in that brain of yours, too. But six babies, you’ve gotta be kidding.”
We leave the ice cream store and walk back toward the Cheesecake Factory parking lot.
“Ren, please tell me about stuff. I want to know you better, and I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”
She makes it sound so easy. Let her in.
I’m ten years older than I was when I left her behind instead of letting her in. I bought my place in Napa with the idea of finding her again. Planning to let her in. Hoping I could do it without it derailing me.
And now I’m not sure how to do it. One more downside to not having a male role model to teach me to be a man. But maybe it’s time to stop blaming my absent father for things I don’t know how to do. Maybe it’s just time to learn.
“Talk to me, Hockey Star. Tell me what challenges you’re worried about handling. We’re a team, right? Isn’t that what we agreed on?”
She’s right. The mere mention of the word team knocks the resistance loose. She and I, we’re a team, as much as the Otters are. My mind edges open, and I feel the stuck words start to flow.
“I know I said I want balance, but I’m not a multitasker. I do one thing and I do it well. What happens if I’m a shitty dad? Where does that leave you and the baby?”
It’s so many thoughts at once that I’m not sure she’ll be able to parse through them. I’m not sure I can. But that’s the thing about Trix that drew me to her all those years ago. She sees me more clearly than I see myself.
She holds out her hand, palm up, open and ready for me. Her soft skin feels electric and reassuring at the same time. The connection grounds me.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Better.”
“Good. Now, relax. You’re going to be an awesome dad.”
I shake my head. It’s not that simple. “I don’t have any idea how to do that.”
“You’re underestimating yourself. You’ve taken such good care of me over the past few months. You’ve taken care of your mom. You may not be able to see that it’s in you, but I see it. And remember something. You’re not alone in this. That’s the beauty. Realize that, and you’ll succeed.”
I’m not ready to give up the gauntlet on this. There’s too much self-doubt for me to accept her words .
“Fine, then, maybe that’s the one thing I’ll be awesome at. I’ll focus on that because of course I want to be a good dad. But what if I ignore you or hockey in the process? Where does that leave my career? I’ve worked my entire life to get where I am, and I’m supposed to just half-ass it now?” We reach my car, and I lean against the door.
Putting a hand on my shoulder, she steps closer to me. Then closer. Then she wraps her arms around my neck, and I pull her in tight.
“You’re not going to do that either. You’re going to learn to do more than one thing at a time really well. You’re already doing it. You’re spending time with me, and hockey hasn’t suffered. I have full faith in you, Ren.”
She says it like it’s not even a discussion. But she doesn’t understand. The team is suffering. I haven’t been able to fix our chemistry, and if I wasn’t distracted by Trix and her pregnancy, maybe I’d have turned things around by now.
The worst part is that I want to be with her more than I want to think about the next pep talk or individual meetings with my teammates. Here, with her in my arms, it doesn’t feel like a problem. So I allow myself to push off the worries. For now.