Chapter 15
Most Valuable Player of the PC Mites
Justin
I slept better, now that the first day with Mia was over. Memories and old feelings were stirred up, but that was okay. Instead of avoiding them, I was supposed to face them, and it hadn’t been as bad with Arne there.
When I woke up, I managed a shower and put on another T-shirt with sweat shorts. I’d never been a guy for fashion like Cooper. He’d cringe to see what I had on now, but I’d always been more practical than him.
The rooms were a little dark since it was raining. Not a surprise in this part of the country. I’d just started the coffeemaker when I heard a knock at the door. Mia. I felt a smile creasing my face. Was this loneliness, or her? I managed to tone it down by the time I opened the door.
“I’m not too early?” she asked. She was standing under an umbrella, and when I looked past her, there was no car.
“It’s fine. I’m totally flexible. If you need to come later or leave early, just let me know. I should give you my number.” I hadn’t thought of that yesterday, but I’d been distracted by Arne.
I stood back to let her enter. More scrubs. I hadn’t realized how flattering those could be. I’d always admired her figure, enjoyed putting my hands all over—
I cleared my throat. “I just put on some coffee if you’d like some.”
She paused. “Sure.”
“School happening today?”
She led the way to the kitchen. “Yes. Thanks for letting me bring him yesterday.”
“I enjoyed his company.”
She turned, a huge smile on her face. “I hoped he wasn’t too chatty.”
I shook my head. Not being a big talker myself, I was glad to have someone else carry the burden of conversation.
Mia grabbed a couple of mugs and poured coffee in them. She stirred milk into one for me and brought them both to the table.
“You drink your coffee black now?”
She wrapped her hands around the mug. “Moving from place to place, you never know what’s going to be offered. It was just easier to get used to drinking it black.”
Typical Mia, putting herself last. “You like what you do?”
“Yeah. I’m helping people.”
I believed it, because it was what she did all the time. Even going to medical school had been about helping others.
“You didn’t drive? It’s pretty wet out there.”
“It’s not that far a walk. And—” She stopped abruptly.
“And?” Was there something about driving to my place that was a problem?
“My car is at the garage.”
She was looking at the table, not me. With high school Mia, that meant she wasn’t telling the whole story. Was it the same now? “A big repair?” With Bruce not working, money would be tight.
“It’s going to take some time.”
Did they have another car? Unlikely. What was she doing to get around?
She pushed back from the table. “So, another smoothie to start the day?”
“That would be great.” She was changing the subject, but I had an idea about that.
While she pulled ingredients out of the fridge and cupboards, I remembered to tell her that her stew had been delicious.
“Thank you.”
She put everything in the blender and capped it, then hit the blend button. This was an old one of my grandmother’s. It didn’t have fancy settings, but it was strong and reliable. It wasn’t long before Mia was pouring smoothie into a glass for me.
“Maybe an omelet for breakfast today? Or, I looked up some recipes for athletes. I could do a breakfast burrito?”
I raised my brows. “That sounds incredible.”
Her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Once I’ve fed you and checked your hand, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I need to work out. Then maybe we can sort some of the boxes?” I was a little nervous about what we might find.
She nodded and started preparing breakfast. Had she guessed what might be in those boxes? She didn’t seem worried.
After eating, I had a call with the team. Checking on my hand, my mental state, my routines. Mia verified that I was being good and that the hand was doing as well as it was supposed to. With that out of the way, we headed downstairs.
While I started on the treadmill, Mia neatly stacked the boxes with my name on them near the couch.
She arranged some garbage bags for anything I wanted to toss and had notepaper on hand in case I wanted to list things.
Keeping an eye on her as she bent over, displaying her ass to perfection, distracted me from the treadmill and I almost slipped.
Mia looked over. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” After that, I kept my gaze firmly ahead of me, ignoring the sounds of whatever she was doing.
Once I was finished with the treadmill, I headed to do some leg work on the old weight machine that had been here since I was in high school.
Mia was scrolling on her phone but looked up to see what I was doing. “Need help?”
I wanted to say no, but I could use her assistance to adjust the weights. Fitch had refused to add as much as I wanted, worried about me overdoing it. But by this point in my career, if I didn’t know when I was pushing too hard, I had bigger problems than a cast on my right hand.
I explained what I wanted. Mia narrowed her eyes before grilling me on my usual routine, any cautions I’d been given, and if I’d done this before. We finally reached a compromise and I started a few sets.
My head kept turning in her direction. I finally asked, “Are you bored?”
She looked up from her phone. “No. I’m doing research on hockey camps for Arne. I promised him I would, and I haven’t had time yet. Do you mind?”
I shook my head. “I might still know some people around here involved in the lower-level hockey programs. Maybe I could talk to them, see if they’d be willing to help?”
I was surprised that Mia wanted to be a hockey mom.
Which was stupid of me—just because she’d dated and broken up with a hockey player didn’t mean she was no longer a fan of the sport.
I had no information about her husband. Maybe he played or was a big fan.
Maybe he was the one taking his son, and Mia was just helping.
I didn’t know if she and her ex got along.
She shook her head vehemently. “No, please don’t. I’ve already heard there’s a spot in one camp his best friend is going to, but I’m afraid to even mention it.”
“Is it because of me?”
She stilled. “No. I haven’t tried to keep my son from playing hockey because you do.”
I felt like an idiot. A vain one.
She averted her gaze. “I don’t have the time or money to put him in hockey during the year. I probably can’t afford a summer camp, though at least then it’s not at stupidly early hours in the morning.”
If she was already stressed money-wise about fixing her car… “Then why are you looking up camps?”
She shrugged. “I hate to disappoint him.”
I got that. Kid batted those big eyes at me and now my cast was looking like a kindergarten project. “I could—” Her head jerked sideways and her eyes glared at me. Yeah, expected she’d refuse to even consider it.
“Maybe if he tried it, he wouldn’t like it.” Her expression proved she knew how unlikely that was.
“His dad?” He should be able to help, right?
“No.”
I desperately wanted to know why, but she wasn’t talking. I focused back on my reps and left her alone.
When I was done, I went upstairs for another shower. After, I found her in the kitchen. She’d gotten out some quinoa and had it boiling in a pot.
“I looked up lunch ideas beyond sandwiches. Quinoa is high in protein, and I can add proteins and veg for a Buddha bowl.”
“Thank you.” She was going above and beyond what I’d expected. But it didn’t surprise me that she excelled at whatever job she was assigned.
“This is also something I can leave in the fridge for you to throw together on weekends when I’m not here.”
Right. I’d have some days on my own. Didn’t look like food would be a problem.
She checked her recipe and turned the stove knob. “Okay, this can just finish cooking with the heat off. Did you want to do the boxes?”
“Yeah. Thanks for getting everything ready.”
She shrugged. “I can only spend so much time looking up hockey camps. I’ve checked out enough of them that I know they’re out of our price range.”
I felt bad for the kid. Hockey had been so great for me, I hated to think he might miss out. It didn’t have to be a career. It could just be for fun.
Not my problem. I wasn’t here to get involved in Mia’s life. If I offered to pay again, she’d shut me down so fast my head would spin. I followed her back down the stairs.
“Take a seat, and I’ll bring in a box at a time.”
“I can—”
She sighed. “Please, let’s not do this all the time. You shouldn’t be picking up the boxes with that hand.”
She was right, but it felt wrong.
She brought in the first box and sat across from me on a chair. Grandma had saved everything. There were trophies and jerseys from every level of hockey I’d ever played in.
I frowned over a box of the first awards I’d ever received. “What the hell am I supposed to do with these? I’m not going to put peewee trophies up in my place in Toronto.”
“Is there any place you can donate them?”
“I’m not that big a name. No one wants to know I was—” I reached and picked up a little brass-colored cup. “Most valuable player of the PC Mites twenty years ago.”
Her brow creased as she considered. “Are there some that might be worth keeping?”
“Some of the junior stuff maybe.” Anything since playing professionally I had in Toronto. “But most of this is garbage.”
She picked up her phone and started typing. “I’m looking up ways to recycle trophies, if you don’t want to keep these.”
I’d never considered people would do that, but if they did, I could let these go happily.
She peered at her screen. “This one, Repeat Champions, takes used trophies and medals from any sport and makes them into non-gender-specific awards and donates them.”
“Let’s do that.”
Another box was full of folded up jerseys from the different teams I’d played for. The jerseys were small, some grubby from a lot of wear.
I held up a green one, the shirt small enough to have been from my first years playing. “I have no idea what to do with these. I don’t want to display them, but I don’t want to get rid of them either.”
“You could keep them—maybe if you have kids, they’d wear them?”
My cheeks grew hot. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. Would Arne like one?”
Her forehead creased. “You don’t even know him.”
I held up my cast. “I have his autograph.”
Mia bit her lip.
I pressed my point. “It could be a consolation prize since he can’t go to a hockey camp. I remember wearing my jerseys to school and feeling like I was hot shit. He’d have a throwback.”
She moved her gaze from the one I was holding to the full box. “Are you sure?”
“Pick one that’s in his size.”
The smaller jerseys were near the bottom. Mia pulled out a bright turquoise one that looked about the right size for Arne. The name of the insurance company that had sponsored the team was all over it, but there was also Johnson on the back.
“Thanks. He’ll love it.” Something warmed in my chest.
The next box set off a bomb. Right on top, in a carboard frame from the photography studio, was our grad photo. It was from that golden period when we thought we were getting all of our dreams.
Mia was beaming, staring directly at the photographer, my arms wrapped around her. Our caps were off but we were still in our robes. I wasn’t looking at the camera. I was staring at her. As if she was the center of the world.
Back then, she had been.
“Maybe—” Mia’s voice was husky. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Maybe you should go through this one on your own.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off that photo. I had no clue what else was in there, and the idea of closing it up again and hiding it was really appealing.
There’d been a lot of things that disappeared from my room after Grandma heard about our breakup, but I thought they’d been thrown away. Now I wasn’t sure.
I nodded. I sure as hell didn’t need to see more shit like this while Mia was sitting across from me.
“I thought you might have tossed all this, after we broke up.”
I kept my eyes on the box, as if I could somehow X-ray through the top items and see what else was there.
“By the time I got back to the house, all the stuff with us was gone from my room.” I’d walked for miles around the neighborhood after our fight, and I’d been grateful not to have any reminders of Mia waiting for me.
“Really?” I finally looked up at her frowning face. “Did you tell them we broke up right away?”
“I, uh, I’d already told New York I was coming before I talked to you.”
She flinched, then lifted her chin. “What?”
“I was afraid I’d back out..”
She pushed to her feet, hands fisted. “Are you kidding me?” She growled. “Do you have any idea how many nights I couldn’t sleep, repeating that last fight, trying to think of a way we could have made it work?”
Her voice cut through me. She’d had regrets?
Another growl. “The hours I spent second-guessing everything, tempted to call you and say I’d do whatever? And all the fucking time you’d decided—before we talked, before I even had a chance to deal with what was going on—that we were done?”
She glared at me, and I had no words.
“I need some air.” She ran up the stairs and moments later I heard the front door slam.
I sat, thrown back to that fight. I’d hurt her then, and now I was doing it all over again.