Chapter 35 You’ll always be hot shit
Thirty-Five. You’ll always be hot shit
Tamara
“Hey, Trick?”
He hums against my stomach, lips curving into a smile as he continues talking to the bump.
Since the day he felt the baby move, whenever I lie down, this is the position he assumes.
It’s stinking cute. I love how excited he is about being a father, especially since he was so uncertain at the beginning.
So he’ll set his head in my lap, trace shapes along my belly and laugh at the conversation he’s having with himself.
If I didn’t love this man before, moments like this would have done it for me.
“Lotus?”
I blink and find him frowning up at me. “Hi.” His face brightens and I grin. “I was working on the nursery the other day and maybe it’s time we start looking for a bigger place?”
“Oh yeah?”
So many baby and parenting books say we should have started work on the nursery earlier, but I wasn’t ready.
The fear of losing the baby, of losing myself and the tension between me and Patrick made it hard to focus on the future that way.
Now we’re in such a good place, and there’s nothing I want more than to start planning for the rest of our lives. Or at least start with next year.
I nod and smooth a hand over my stomach. “This has been my home for so long and I love that we got to start over here. But the guest bedroom isn’t going to be big enough and don’t you want a garden to chase our kids and dogs?”
He chuckles. “How many dogs are we thinking?”
“One at least, maybe two.”
“I think two would be a good number.”
I slide a hand through his untied hair, fingers tangling in the knots. “There are folks at work who can help me find some options.”
“You’ve been thinking about this a while, huh?”
My face heats up and I shrug. “I want us to create memories together in a place not tainted by my previous relationship. This flat has been good to me, to us, but I’ve outgrown it.”
After Kabir’s unexpected visit, I knew the right thing to do is leave. The flat was my home for a decade and it served me well. But it’s just four walls and I’m ready for more. I hadn’t thought about the mark Kabir had left on the flat until I saw him again.
Now, Patrick and I deserve to build our home.
“All right, let’s go find somewhere to build memories together,” he says, smiling up at me and my heart leaps and twirls.
“I love you, you know that?”
He shrugs and kisses my belly. “I had an inkling. I appreciate the reminder.”
“It’s always been you, you silly man.”
With a tug on his hair, I laugh and he winks.
Then sits up as well, dragging the sheets over his bottom half.
It doesn’t matter if this man is fully clothed or not, my body still reacts to him the same way: desperately.
But given the serious look on his face, I know covering up is a good idea.
“I want to talk about something too,” he tells me and once I’m looking at him, he adds, “What if I retire from professional hockey?”
My heart stops. That was not the question I expected. My silence makes him flinch and he blows out a breath.
“Why?”
He sits beside me so we’re both leaning against the headboard.
After spending the most incredible day with his parents, Elias and Vera, we locked ourselves away.
Some of it was spent fucking and rolling around in the sheets, the rest of the time I was asleep.
I realise I’ve been sacrificing sleep for fantastic sex.
No regrets, but my body and baby need the rest. So while Patrick did whatever he wanted, I snored.
Now I’m wondering if during those sleeping hours he was thinking about this.
“Either I do it or they force me to do it.” He sounds small and I squeeze his hand.
“I really want one more medal. But I’ll be forty and I don’t know if they’ll let that happen.
The team and management haven’t said anything, but Nihal and I’ve been waiting for the email to come through for years now. ”
“You really think they’d force you out because of your age?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I love the sport, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t wanna leave. But maybe I should get out while I’m still hot shit.”
“You’ll always be hot shit, Trick.”
Tilting his head back, he smiles. “You’re very biased and not wrong. Problem is, I don’t know what I’ll do if I step down.”
“What about coaching?”
“I don’t love it or hate it right now and the team is made up of some really good guys. But isn’t that cliché? To go from playing professionally to coaching?”
“I won’t pretend like I know anything about sports or the coaching world, but it would keep you close to hockey, right? And you can train future medal winners.”
He nods slowly but doesn’t say anything. For as long as I’ve known him, hockey has been his only focus. More importantly, Patrick and hockey are synonymous with each other and I don’t want him to make any decisions he might regret.
“Trick,” I say and he swallows hard before looking at me. “If it’s what you want to do, you know I’ll support you. As will your family and all our friends. What you want is most important. But you need to be absolutely sure. Don’t do it because of what you think might happen, okay?”
“You’ll still love me, right?”
“If you retire? I don’t know. I picked you for your hockey prowess. Without that, who are you?”
His eyes widen and I match his expression before we both crack up. He leans in and kisses me roughly, his nose bumping against mine. I cradle his face in both hands and brush my mouth against his as I pull away.
“Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be right here. You, me and this baby; this is forever.”
He inhales deeply and covers my mouth on an exhale.
I kiss him back, grabbing his hair as we scramble to get closer.
His hands land on my bare ass and I’m dragged into his lap.
My legs spread over his thick thighs and I press my knees into either side of his hips.
I lick into his mouth and Patrick moans.
The sheets are caught between us, forming a layer between his cock and my sore centre.
It doesn’t take much for me to ache for him, but a break is necessary.
At least for a few more hours. I pull away and he slumps back against the headboard.
“There was a time when the idea of leaving hockey used to scare the shit out of me. Now I have you and our baby,” he says, smoothing his large hands over my stomach, “I’m not as scared. It’ll take time to make sense of it all, but I like the idea of my family being my new normal.”
I smile and brush his hair back, fingers catching in the knots. “Besides, I doubt you’d ever sit still. You’ve got your foundation and maybe they’ll ask you back for more LHT coaching.”
He chuckles and dips his head to kiss my stomach, then up to each breast. I push him away before he can take a nipple into his mouth.
Once he starts, I won’t be able to stop him.
I continue to play with his hair and his eyes slip shut.
Quiet moments like this with Patrick aren’t rare, but I savour each one.
My hands drop to his shoulders, tracing the palm leaves on one shoulder and the floral chaos on the other.
The tip of my finger follows the neat font that reads today on his clavicle.
Below are a series of numbers and a cassette with the words our mixtape.
Memories fill my mind of the tapes we used to swap every summer, songs that reminded us of each other on both sides.
Tracks painstakingly recorded from the radio.
I press my palm to the colourful bonfire in the centre of his and meet his dancing amber eyes.
We haven’t addressed the sheer number of tattoos he has for me and we don’t have to.
Knowing this man held onto our love for years means a lot.
Even when I was silently hating him from a distance, Patrick added these pieces to his body.
He thinks I don’t know about the lotus, but it’s hard to miss.
Mine is simple and boring in comparison, but it’s the tattoo that speaks volumes of our love for each other.
I slide a finger under the light silver chain resting around his neck, dragging it down to the two small discs grazing the edge of a tattooed leaf. One has a compass pointing north and the other has a jellyfish. His hand covers mine and I blink away the emotions clear in my eyes.
He simply smiles and says, “I gotta ask about the sex rooms, Lo.”
I laugh, a watery sound because of how much this man makes me feel. I lean back, hands resting on his thighs as he drapes the sheet over my chest. My stomach is still exposed and he continues to touch and kiss the taut skin.
“Wondered how long it would take you to bring it up.”
“I was tempted to Google you further, but decided to wait for you to tell me.”
One, this man Googled me. Two, he wants me to tell him all about my big fancy job. Outside of helping land the Julia Christopher project, we haven’t really talked about what I do much. And Googling me will only get people so far, since the information is kept under lock and key.
In that moment I realise I haven’t had to explain my job in years.
“A few years after I started at Bold Lines, I was redoing the entire house of a really popular Bollywood actor. When we got to a secret room he’d built behind bookshelves, I was curious.
He told me his plan was to make it a sex room.
‘Like in Fifty Shades Of Grey’, he said.
At first I judged him, then I was really excited.
I researched every minor detail and designed it for him.
I enjoyed it so much and did a few more, then it became my thing.
“One client would tell another and before I knew it, I was designing sex rooms for the rich and famous all over the country. I’ve signed so many NDAs over the years, but if you ask, I’ll tell you.”
He laughs and reaches around to pinch my butt. “And I didn’t even have to promise you my dick.”
“That’s my dick, sir. I’ll have you remember that.”
Patrick’s responding smile is so beautiful it takes my breath away. “Yours, Lo. Always been yours.”
I blow him a kiss and shift forward. “Now if I say the name Tamara Chandy, everyone knows who I am.”
“I was thinking maybe you might like to be Tamara Joseph…”
We’ve talked about the future like this casually a few times, but I never know if he’s being serious. However, my brain isn’t in conversation with my heart when I open my mouth and say, “What about Tamara Chandy-Joseph?”
“Yes,” he breathes and kisses me. His arms slide around my back and tug me in. “I don’t really care what your surname is as long as you’re mine and I’m yours.”
“I don’t know, Trick. Name change might be easier.”
He growls and tips me backwards. I laugh and try to move away, but he crawls over me and presses his hips to mine, pinning me to the bed. “Say you’re mine, Tamara,” he mutters as his eyes flare hot and I whimper.
“You’re mine.” He grunts and shakes his head, so I add, “I’m yours, Trick.”
“And I am yours, Lo. Surname or not.”
I drag my fingers along his jaw, the coarse hair of his beard pressing to my skin as we stare at each other.
I loop my fingers into his necklace and tug him down, our mouths meeting in a soft kiss.
It’s a gentle pressing of lips before they part and tongues touch.
I smile as he pulls away and the sadness swirling in his beautiful brown eyes catches me off guard.
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
“How do you do that?”
With a smile, I say, “I’ve known you a long time.”
He huffs and lies down beside me. I turn onto my side and his hand automatically finds my bump. I stare at his profile, as he looks up at the ceiling, tracing and committing the perfection that is the man I love to memory.
“What does your depression feel like?”
He curses and glances at me. Then closes his eyes and speaks.
“Like I have no control over what’s happening.
I had an episode in Delhi and had to peel all my clothes off.
The harder I ignore it, the more intense it is when I crash.
It’s like a wave—building slowly and rising with enough time to escape.
But when it meets land, it’s loud and painful. ”
I press a hand to his bare chest. “Why fight it?”
“If I let it win every time, I can’t do anything. I can’t eat or sleep or be present. And in my line of work, I can’t check out.”
“What about medication?”
He nods, putting his hand over mine. “Tried it for a year, but the side effects made it worse. So I stopped taking them and my therapist has been finding ways to help me cope.”
Patrick’s eyes are closed and his words aren’t coming out in rushed breaths, but he’s still not calm. His heart races and pounds against my fingers and I refuse to pull away.
“How can I help, Trick?”
“This…” he finally looks at me and smiles sadly. “Being with you helps. Dominic and I think hockey might be a trigger. For a long time, my crash happened before or after a big sporting event. Recently it’s been a lot more random, so we’re looking at other triggers.”
“Oh, honey.”
A laugh bursts out of him, sarcastic and stilted. “The one thing I’ve loved as long as you is the thing that probably fucks with my head.”
My heart clenches at his admission. “Is this why you want to retire?”
“Partly. Mental health isn’t a one size fits all kind of thing and I wish it was easy to identify the problem. But it’s taken us a decade to get to this point. I don’t want to crash during a game, you know?”
I scoot forward and press a kiss to his shoulder.
The importance of hockey in Patrick’s life isn’t lost on me.
It’s not just a sport, it’s part of his life.
It’s everything to him. To have that be the reason for something so debilitating has to be terrifying.
And knowing he might have to give it up in order to live is sad.
His breath rattles in his chest and I slide my arm around his broad form as much as I can and we lay like that for a long time.
I know no matter what happens, what choices Patrick makes with his career, I’m not going anywhere.
His athletic ability isn’t why I fell in love with him.
That was only a part of the boy I met at camp.
I fell in love with the big-hearted boy with the bright smile.
And because, on a really bad day at camp, he looked into my eyes and told me like the lotus flower, I crawl through the dark and murky parts of life to brighten the world.