Chapter 14
Dane
“Bruh, what’s up with you today?”
I sit up from the workout bench, where I’ve just done an exhausting set of chest presses, and reach for my plastic water bottle, squirting some in my mouth. Costa, who is my spotter today, grabs the bottle from my hand and douses me with a deluge across my pecs.
“Fuck me, what’s that for, you douche?” I wipe the mess away with the towel that’s slung around my neck and give him a dirty look.
With our stretch of games at home this week, today is a strength and conditioning day. The next game is coming up on Thursday night.
“You’re acting weird lately,” he observes—rather correctly—nudging my head with his fist. “Weirder than usual. And if I didn’t know how careful you are when you hook up, I’d think maybe you’d just learned you knocked somebody up.”
I start coughing and sputtering wildly, the water I just sucked down spilling from the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin.
Jesus, is he a mind reader? Are my thoughts written all over my face?
Although technically, I’m still in the dark on the whole situation. Halle’s response had been vague. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that she will give me the story when we meet up at lunch today.
Cherry: Yes, we should chat. But not now.
Cherry: Lunch tomorrow. Meet me at the Ale House. 12:30 p.m.
I don’t know what I expected when I so blatantly asked if I’m Lennon’s dad in a text.
It wasn’t exactly the most tactful approach to pose the question.
I suppose, if I put myself in her shoes, answering yes or no right then wasn’t really an option.
I’m sure there’s more to the story and I do feel bad for putting her on the spot like that.
But it was driving me batshit crazy wondering if I somehow got Halle pregnant five years ago.
We were careful during sex. I knew back then I didn’t want to have a kid when I was so young myself. I had too much going for me to have that additional responsibility. And like Costa said, I’ve always been vigilant with protection when hooking up.
I’ve made sure to wrap that shit up tight to protect everyone involved.
My dad had drilled it into me during the sex talk when I was thirteen and again before I went off to juniors when he said that sex was fun and a part of life, but there should always be safety first. And I was to always, without fail, be attentive to the needs of my partner and treat her with respect. I took those words to heart.
I’ve second-guessed myself a thousand times today, wondering if I’m seeing things that aren’t there.
Sure, Lennon has similar features to me, but that could just be a coincidence.
And I did the math. Even if the last time Halle and I slept together was five years ago and Lenni happened after that, it’s reasonable to assume Halle may have hooked up with some guy in college her first semester and, BAM, Lennon happened.
It doesn’t mean she’s my kid.
But what if she is?
My stomach clenches with something akin to fear. Not because I might find out she is my daughter, but the possibility that Lennon isn’t mine. Something unfurls from deep within me that wants it to be true.
The thought baffles me, though, because I’ve never had any interest in being a dad.
And once Halle left my life, I wasn’t interested in having a committed relationship with anyone else, for that matter.
None of it has been on my radar. My entire life and focus have always been on hockey and enjoying the privileges that come along with the lifestyle of being a player.
I’m brought back to the present by Costa’s hand flapping in front of my face for my attention.
“Yo, Earth to Ax. Did you hear me?”
I blink up and he’s looking back at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. You want a spot?”
I stand up and use my towel to wipe off the sweat left behind, then gesture toward the bench.
He takes the seat but doesn’t immediately lie down. Instead, he runs a hand through his tousled brown hair.
“Sommer’s going to be here this week.”
Now I’m just confused.
“Summer? It’s fall, dude.”
Costa pushes his palm against my hip. “Fucking hell, you really are out of it. Sommer is my wife, bruh.”
Oh, yeah, his wife. The one he married in Vegas. That makes sense. But not really.
I scoff and push him back. “You never even mentioned her name before. Or if you did, I didn’t remember. Sorry, I’ve got a lot going on lately. It’s not like you’ve mentioned anything since that crazy night.”
The whole married in Vegas thing still boggles my mind. I still don’t understand how Costa would marry a woman he doesn’t know. It’s just so out of character for him.
Cale tilts his head on an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes at me.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve said Sommer’s name multiple times. But whatever.” He waves a hand, dropping that small point of contention. “She’ll be here before the game Thursday and stay through the weekend. Then she has to get back for her treatment.”
The last word tumbles through my head. What treatment is he talking about?
“Huh?” Not the most eloquent response, but hey, the confusion is valid.
Cale swipes his towel over his forehead and shrugs his shoulders.
“Sommer has MS,” he explains nonchalantly. At my look of puzzlement, he continues. “Multiple Sclerosis. It’s an autoimmune condition that affects the central nervous system. She was just recently diagnosed and is starting some infusion treatment.”
“Whoa. That’s heavy, bruh. Wha—I mean, why—”
Costa swings a leg back over the bench and leans forward, placing his elbows on top of his thighs.
Then he runs his hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his face so the scar over his eyebrow is visible.
He got it in a game two years ago when I first joined the team.
It was a nasty slash of another guy’s stick and sent him to the hospital for stitches.
With a lengthy sigh, he drops his chin in one hand and ends up looking like that thinking man statue.
“That night in Vegas, the night I met Sommer, our conversation got deep right away. Like, we instantly connected, you know? And she immediately told me about her diagnosis and how she couldn’t afford the monthly treatments.
” Cale pauses, tightening his jaw through closed eyelids.
When he opens his eyes again, they show me exactly what he probably felt that night.
“My grandmother… she was poor and my family couldn’t do much to help her out besides have her live with us.
She died of complications from MS. I know the havoc it wreaks on a body. ”
I take a seat on the bench across from him, oblivious to all the clanging and noise from the gym around us. I lean forward and mimic Costa’s posture.
Cale is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He’s deadly on the ice but has a heart the size of Texas. That heart shines through his friendships, and I know it’s what makes him a hell of a great team captain.
It’s that compassion that I can only assume led to his marriage.
“Fuck, dude,” I acknowledge softly. “Is that the reason you married her? To help her out?”
He shakes his head and turns his gaze toward the gym wall, contemplating something only he can see.
“I know it’s difficult to understand, and I appreciate you worrying about me.
But yeah, I couldn’t just walk away. She’s an American, has no family and she’s self-employed with crappy, really expensive insurance.
I have millions,” he says self-deprecatingly, stretching his arms out wide.
“I figured it was the least I could do for someone in need.”
“I don’t know, bruh. That’s really kind of you, but did you consider the possibility that she’s bullshitting you? She could just be feeding you a line about her health.” I click my teeth to show my disapproval.
He shakes his head, rubbing his jawline.
“Nah. She had me sit in on a video call with her doctors, so I know her diagnosis and the treatment are legit. Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart, I don’t know.
” Costa shrugs his shoulders and twists to lie back down across the bench.
Turning his head to the side, he lifts his gaze back to mine.
“I guess the way I look at it is, if you have the means to help someone else, you gotta do the decent thing. Otherwise, you’re just a selfish asshole. ”
It makes me wonder: If I were put in the same position, would I have the same level of empathy toward a stranger and offer my help?
Or would I be the selfish asshole in that equation?