Chapter 25
TYLER
I love the first minutes of a game. Not the warmup. We all know why we love warmups. The obscene way they thrust their hips toward the ground to stretch their groin… everything about it simply sounds dirty.
The first few minutes of the actual game set the tone for the whole thing.
You see where both teams are. Their headspace.
Their style of game. It also tells you how attentive the refs are going to be.
Some are assholes, and that doesn’t need a prediction; it’s simply a fact.
The ones who waver between good calls and dick moves are the ones we watch for.
Carrying the two bowls into the living room, I sigh because I haven’t missed the start of the game. We’re still hip thrusting. “Okay,” I call and set the bowls down. “Game day food is ready.”
Denny comes around the corner from the hall and joins me at the coffee table to look at the offerings. I’m silent as he does. I haven’t truly cooked for him yet. This is my first time. Most of what I’ve made him prior has been out of a bag or box.
“This is an interesting spread of game-day foods,” he comments.
Somehow, I manage to keep a straight face when I tell him, “You Americans are uncultured heathens with your messy handheld foods.”
He turns a bemused look on me. Has he had game days with his Canadian buddies? Does he even watch sports other than hockey?
“Oh yeah? You’re going to tell me this is traditional Canadian game-day fare?”
I look down at the bowls of chicken noodle soup, the glass casserole of loaded potato au gratin, and the plate of roasted vegetables beside root beer floats. And we have flan in the fridge. “Absolutely.”
Denny isn’t convinced, which means I can’t keep my smile in.
“Actually, these are some of Sally’s favorite things. A combination of the last few meals we ate together. I guess I just wanted her to be here in some way.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. His lips against my temple are soft. “Sounds good. For the record, I don’t really care what we eat for any occasion.”
“I kind of got that impression.”
“Come and look.” Denny tugs me to the collapsible playpen we now have in the living room since bringing home Ty’s crib. Ty’s not wrapped snugly in a burrito of blanket right now. He’s swimming in an oversized Willow #51 jersey.
A smile splits my face. “That’s as small as they come, huh?”
“Nah. There are some cute onesie things that are made out of jersey material, but I figured he could wear this one longer.”
“Not that I want to jinx it, but what if—” Denny’s hand covers my mouth.
“Uh-uh. We don’t even say the words.”
I laugh. I was going to ask, what if he’s traded before the jersey ever truly fits Ty? While I’m not huge on superstition, he’s right. I don’t want to challenge the universe. I want Denny to stay in Winnipeg.
It’s not a bad place to settle down. Either Sally’s house or Denny’s.
Both are in really nice, quiet neighborhoods.
I would wager a guess that Sally’s is more kid-friendly, based on what she’d told me about the neighborhood, but to be fair, I haven’t actually looked around Denny’s neighborhood, so I could be wrong.
Can I just put it into the universe that if he’s traded, he’ll be traded to a Canadian team? The US is getting less safe for foreign travel every day, and I don’t particularly want to figure it out. Nor do I want to stay in Canada while he’s traded to a US team for fuck knows how long.
Denny rests his hand on Ty’s chest briefly and then covers him with a blanket, tucking the edges under Ty’s ribs.
“Don’t want to wrap him?” I ask.
“It feels really warm in here tonight. I’m afraid of him overheating.”
“Because I had the oven running,” I comment, nodding.
“It’s also negative balls degrees out, so I had the heat cranked earlier.”
“Negative balls degrees?”
“So cold that your balls want to take refuge back into your body.”
I laugh and flinch at the same time.
“Let’s get comfortable. What do we eat first?” Denny asks, heading to the couch.
“Probably the veggies. They’re going to cool first. I hope you like all veggies.”
We sit beside each other on the couch as the teams file off the ice, getting ready for introductions. Winnipeg is in Buffalo today. With the second call from CAS, he spoke to his coach and management, and right now, he feels safer staying home with Ty and me.
Honestly, me too. If they showed up and it was just me and Ty? They could take him from me. Denny wouldn’t get here for hours. I’d lose my mind.
No, I remind myself. I’d call Denny’s friends Carson and Kroy. I’d call Nurse April from the hospital. We’d make sure they stall long enough for Denny to get here. That’s what I’d do. I won’t panic. I will keep my head and proceed logically.
“We eating or are you going to eat your lip instead?” Denny asks, knocking his shoulder into mine. He’s holding a plate of veggies for me, waiting for me to take them.
“Sorry. Went down a rabbit hole.”
“Over what?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Tyler—”
Sighing, I repeat what I was thinking. Denny wraps his arm around me again, and we sit with our heads together, veggies getting cold in front of us, and staring at the TV. Maybe unseeing, but staring all the same.
“That’s the correct course of action. Call me first. Call whomever you need to until you get a hold of me. But if you don’t get me on the first two tries, call Carson, Kroy, and April to have them come over. Then continue to call me until you’re able to get in touch.”
“You don’t think it’s a possibility that they’ll try to take Ty, do you?”
“I think that both the police department and Child Services understand what’s going on now, so I find it unlikely, but… I can’t say for sure. I don’t know what my mother’s endgame is or why she’s hell-bent on getting my kid taken from me.”
As if his words challenged the universe, just as the announcers begin bringing out the Winnipeg team, the doorbell rings. Denny has turned down the volume on it, at least. It’s not so jarring now.
Following the doorbell is pounding on the door. We’re far enough away from the entry that it’s not entirely clear, but it’s obvious all the same. Denny doesn’t get up to answer. Instead, he pulls out his phone to check the doorbell camera feed.
His mother’s there, yelling at the door. The live feed catches her mid-rant.
“—can’t keep my grandson from me! I have a right to see him. I have a right to be a part of his life. Let me in, Denny! I’m going to keep calling the police on you if you don’t. Let me in.”
Denny scowls at the phone. “Is the world filled with insane mothers, or am I just the lucky one?”
I stare, horrified, at his phone.
“Call the police on yours, please.”
For another beat, I don’t move. As if I don’t realize he’s talking to me.
I shake myself out of it and reach for my phone.
We dial the number Officer Shaffer gave us, and Denny reports what’s going on.
Since his mother is still yelling outside, he brings his phone close so they can hear her carrying on.
It’s also convenient that they can hear her threats to continue calling the police and CAS on him if he doesn’t stop being an ungrateful child and allow her to see her grandson.
“A patrol car is on its way, Mr. Willow,” the dispatcher says. “Do you feel safe? Would you like to stay on the phone?”
Denny shakes his head. “I’m fine. The doors are locked, and the security system is armed. I’m now considering getting a big, scary guard dog.”
She chuckles, though I don’t think either of us misses the way she tries to hide it. We don’t end up ending the call before police sirens are heard, first through the camera, and then we hear them through the windows.
“Thank you,” Denny says. “Sounds like we have invited company now.”
“Take care, Mr. Willow.”
He ends the call and hands me back my phone as he gets to his feet. “Will you stay with Ty while I deal with this?”
I nod. “Yep.”
I watch him walk away, still watching his phone as he heads for the front door.
I turn my attention to the game, though I mute it so I can hear what’s happening at the front door.
The only thing I truly hear is Denny’s mother losing her shit because she’s being arrested.
I’m not sure who said they’d have her car towed at her expense as well, but she’s now screaming about that, too.
Eventually, her screams get quieter before cutting off completely. I’m guessing she’s in the police cruiser now. Denny doesn’t come back right away, so I’m guessing that he’s still at the door talking to the police.
After several minutes, I get up to stand over Ty to make sure the cold air from the presumably open door doesn’t reach him.
His fingers still feel warm. So does his nose.
I glance at the TV in time to see Jakub Bozik of Buffalo make a goal.
A scowl covers my face. Fucker. 1-0. At least only a few minutes have passed, but as I was musing just a short time ago, I really do feel like the first few minutes set the tone for the rest of the game.
Maybe this is the universe making Winnipeg stumble because Denny is here, dealing with the police and an out-of-control mother.
If I were someone who believed in vibrations or whatever, that could be the explanation.
Denny is part of the Winnipeg Avalanche fabric, and right now, his section is wrinkled.
I dig out a little hat and mittens from the corner of the playpen where we keep extra warmth items and slip the hat over Ty’s head, making sure it covers his ears, and the little mittens that are generally used to keep infants from gouging their faces.
“There we go.” I’m not sure if I’m imagining the little cool front that’s sweeping along the floor or if it’s really there. But just in case.
“He okay?”
I look up as Denny approaches to join me beside Ty, who’s still asleep. He’s alone, and his phone isn’t in his hand. Maybe that means they’re gone.
“Yep. It might be cooler, or it might all be in my head. Also, Bozik scored.”
Denny rolls his eyes. “Of course, he did.” He touches Ty’s cheek and then gestures for us to return to the couch. In silence, we retake our seats and eat our mostly cold veggies.
“I promise, they’re better hot.”
He smiles, but not one of those happy expressions. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t call your mother up to freak out at the door.” I shrug. “I just don’t want to put you off veggies because these are cold.”
Denny chuckles. “Noted.”
His phone rings just as I’m dishing potatoes. I mute the television again as he answers. I’m surprised when he puts the call on speaker.
“Yes?”
“You had Mom arrested?”
I lean a little closer and conspicuously look at the name on the screen. Leon Willow. His brother, I think. That was one of his brothers’ names, wasn’t it?
“She made you her one call, huh?”
“To her own detriment, yes. I told her to pound salt.”
Denny snorts. “Was she this insane when you had your kids?”
“Yes and no. She did show up demanding that I share my kids with her. She did not lose her shit enough to get herself arrested.”
“I’m guessing calling Child Protective Services is also special just for me.”
Leon is silent. “She did what?”
“Yep. Once, and then when they didn’t do as she demanded, she made another false claim to the police. That’s after she forced her way into my house while I was at hockey and ripped my newborn from his uncle’s arms. All on camera, mind you.”
Silence. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. No, she didn’t pull that shit with me. Nor with Anthony, to my knowledge.”
“So I’m just special.”
“You’re the prodigal son. Rich, famous, talented. Why wouldn’t she try to force her way into your life?”
Denny frowns. “You really think that’s what’s up?”
Leon sighs. “Honestly? I have no fucking idea. I thought once we were all gone, and she didn’t have to stay married or pretend that she was being a parent, she’d disappear into the night, and we’d never hear from her again.
I’m also usually surprised into answering my phone when she calls. Thus, why I answered tonight.”
“You give her bail?”
He laughs. “Not a damn chance. I have three kids. My money is tied up.”
“Three kids,” Denny repeats.
“I’ve sent you pics of each, brother. Something I haven’t received the courtesy of in return.”
“Sorry. I was… struggling after I brought him home. No offense, but sending pictures to anyone was the last thing on my mind.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through.”
Denny glances at me. “Thanks. I’m guessing you learned through Sports Spot, too?”
“No. I learned from Mom when she called to demand that I give her your address. I refused, but not simply on principle. I also don’t know your address.”
“How did Mandy know my address?” Denny muses.
“Good question.”
A long moment passes between them. They need lessons in being brothers. Pretty sure.
“So…” Denny says. “You and your family doing okay?”
I cover my mouth to hide my smile. The awkwardness in his voice nearly has me laughing.
“Yeah. Kids are good. Juney is good. Just moved into a bigger house—Mom doesn’t know the address.”
Denny grins. “Good to hear.”
“And you? You and your new son are good?”
Denny looks at me. “We’re all good. Despite Mom being a beacon of chaos periodically, it’s been really good.”
Our eyes remain locked, and we share a smile.
“I’m glad to hear that. I know I’m a few hundred miles away, but let me know if you need anything. I also won’t be upset if you want to send me a picture of my nephew, Denny.”
He smirks. “Noted.”
“Take care, man. Keep me posted on Mom, please. When she strikes out with you, I hate to think that maybe she’s going to turn her efforts on me or Anthony to access her grandkids.”
“A word of advice; don’t give Mandy your address.”
Leon laughs. “Trust me. She’s not even in the top hundred people who will have my address.”
When they’re off the phone, Denny sends his brother a picture of Ty in his Winnipeg jersey. Maybe they’re learning to be brothers now.