Chapter 25
BEA
“Ihear Nicky’s back in the building today.”
I look up from the email I’m not actually responding to. Ava is leaning against the doorframe of my office. She’s effortlessly chic and commanding in black wide-leg trousers and a periwinkle sweater that manages to bring out the golden undertones of her shoulder-length blonde hair.
“He is,” I reply, gesturing to the chairs in front of my desk.
Ava gives a smile and crosses to one, dropping into it gracefully from her towering height with four-inch heels.
I’ve been back in the office for about three weeks, and everyone—especially Ava—has been exceedingly professional.
Unfailingly polite and accommodating to the point of discomfort.
My schedule has been reduced to sending press briefs, issuing reporter credentials, and monitoring posts flagged by our social media department.
No one wants to intrude or give me more work than they think I can handle.
It’s been boring as hell, making me long to be anywhere else.
I feel no drive, no desire to make more of what is right in front of me.
“That’s good. I’m happy to see that his recovery is going well.” Ava crosses her legs, folding her hands into her lap.
“He wants to play again—really putting in the work.” I pause, my brain rolling around all of the possible ways to wordsmith the question in my head. Instead, I just ask it. “I don’t think you’re dropping by to ask me about Nicky. What’s going on, Ava?”
My boss gives an amused smile before gently pointing a finger at me.
“Want to know what I thought when I hired you?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “That girl is committed to her job. She must love it.”
“I did,” I acknowledge, then catch myself. “I do.”
“I don’t doubt there’s a love to be good at what you do,” Ava leads softly.
“It’s why you’ve been given the role you have—not just right now, but before, too.
Working with the film crew and taking on the responsibility of protecting our players.
I didn’t think there was anyone else who could live and breathe this job like you do. Except maybe Emmett.”
“But you don’t think I can anymore?” I ask, all my training and education picking apart the words Ava uses. The past tense. The way she creates comfort by highlighting my positives, as though she is going to level a blow against me.
“I think a lot has changed for you. It’s all right if your love is somewhere other than your job.” Ava’s face is nothing but kind and understanding. The older sister, who sees more than she speaks, finally dropping some hard-earned wisdom.
Relief floods through me, and I’m taken aback by its strength.
I think about every morning for the last three weeks: saying goodbye to Nat and Nicky, wishing I was driving Natalia to school instead, singing Huntrix songs at the top of our lungs.
How my heart aches all day with something I can’t name.
Somewhere in falling in love with Nicky, there was a falling in love with Natalia—with the entire Midnight family. A family I never had. A family I didn’t know I needed but can’t imagine being without. I don’t realize I’m crying until there’s an audible drip onto the corner of a memo on my desk.
“Oh!” I gasp with embarrassment, quickly wiping away the salty tracks on my cheeks.
I try to gather the shattered pieces of myself, tracking the way Ava leans forward in her chair.
She plucks a tissue from the box on the side of my desk and offers it to me.
An apology is on the tip of my tongue. Then, as if she is expecting it, Ava raises her hand to silence me before I even speak.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she tells me. She doesn’t lean back in the chair; she rises and comes around the corner of my desk. Ava hitches a hip on the edge and rests a comforting hand on my arm. “It’s good; belonging.”
“Nothing about my life now is what I expected when I came here,” I confess. “I’m so grateful you took a chance on me, and I do like what we do. I know I’m capable and good at what I do. I—”
“Bea,” Ava interrupts. “You don’t have to make a decision. I’m not asking you to figure out the rest of your life at ten thirty on a Wednesday morning.”
I laugh, relief coursing through me at her reassurance that there’s no ultimatum coming today. But I know now that my employer is aware of my disconnect, and I realize I’m approaching a crossroads in a truly unexpected way.
Before I can respond, my cell phone rings. The number for Natalia’s school flashes on the screen. I glance at Ava, and she gives me a nod. I pick up the phone, swiping to answer the call, my brows furrowing in confusion.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, I’m trying to reach Beatrice Farrow.” A pleasant voice comes through the receiver.
“This is she.” Ava stands, but I hold up a finger, asking her to wait. “How can I help you?”
“Miss Farrow, this is Mary Bragman, the nurse at Edgewood Elementary. I have Natalia in my office.”
“Is she all right?” I push, even if I know the woman is about to explain the reason for the call. Everything in me is tuned to react—rationally or otherwise—as worry settles in. Ava is a silent support next to me, her hand on my shoulder and concern in her eyes.
“She seems to be fine now.” Mary’s voice is kind.
The kind of clinical that comes from taking care of kids and talking to parents.
“She did throw up at the end of recess about ten minutes ago, but says she feels okay. I’ve taken her temperature; she’s within normal range, and she isn’t complaining of any other symptoms.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Our school policy dictates that vomiting students must be picked up by a parent or trusted person on their contact form, and cannot return until they are twenty-four hours free of further illness,” Mary explains. “I’ve attempted to reach Natalia’s father, but my calls are going unanswered.”
“He’s at practice,” I reply. “His phone is in the locker room.”
“Your daddy’s skating,” I hear Mary say quietly.
Natalia must be next to her, and I know my girl must be worrying.
While Nicky has gotten her started with a therapist, it will take Natalia some time to work through the trauma Nicky’s injury caused.
Her separation anxiety is ebbing and flowing in ways she can’t control yet.
“Well, you’re next on our contact list. Do you think you are able to come pick her up? ”
“Mamochka.”
My heart squeezes tightly when I hear Nat on the phone.
Mommy.
It’s like puzzle pieces clicking into place. I can see the picture so clearly, and it’s exactly what I want.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I say, then freeze to look back at Ava. I’m halfway to the door, my purse slung over my shoulder and my other hand reaching out for my coat. Ava gives me a nod, and I know where I’m supposed to be. I just have to figure out how to stay there.
Natalia hugs me like a koala on the walk from the elementary school office to my car in the parking lot.
My visual examination shows no pale skin or sweaty forehead like I would expect from a child coming down with the flu.
Her biggest symptoms are her silence and clinginess.
I turn on a Disney songs playlist as I drive, and feel unease spread when no songs bring a smile to her face in the rearview mirror.
I don’t like seeing her upset, and I can’t figure out where the illness would be coming from.
I’m mentally checking off names of Natalia’s classmates I’ve known to be ill in the last week, but coming up empty when we pull down our street, and Natalia exclaims, “Daddy!”
I focus on the front yard, where Nicky is, in fact, standing near the steps as though he’s been waiting for us in the cold. He starts toward the garage as I swing the car into the driveway.
“What’s going on?” I ask, climbing out of the car as Nicky extracts Natalia.
She latches herself around him, and he cuddles her close.
His eyes cut to mine, and I know whatever answer he has for me is not for little ears to hear, so I give him a nod.
Together, we get Natalia into the house and set up in the living room with a light lunch of crackers and chicken noodle soup.
He doesn’t seem overly concerned about Natalia’s vomiting, just turned on a children’s read-aloud show on the television.
With her settled, I finally pull Nicky into the kitchen.
“I had a panic attack,” he begins, unprompted, as soon as we’re alone.
My stomach drops, and I wrap my arms around his waist. I give him my best apologetic face.
He lets out a sigh, long and soul-shaking as his diaphragm collapses against me.
It draws me closer, and I follow the pull of his body, falling against him and squeezing him tighter.
Nicky props his chin on my head before I’m cocooned in his arms.
“I had my skates on and was sitting in the locker room. Getting ready with the guys had been fine, I didn’t feel concerned—just different,” Nicky starts.
I close my eyes, listening to him and picturing everything he says.
“Leo asked me to help him with a shot he’s working on, and suddenly I couldn’t get up from the bench.
My whole body refused to move. Charlie gave me shit about it, and the next thing I knew, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Like my heart was—” He pulls me even closer, his breath stuttering.
I open my eyes and twist my head to put my chin against his chest. Nicky looks down at me with fear in his eyes.
“I thought I was dying again, only this time I had to feel all of it. Scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m so sorry that happened.” My words are inadequate but honest, and I fight off my own fear at hearing him talk about it. I press a kiss to his sternum and run my hands up and down his back. “What do you need from me?”
“I’m not ready to skate again yet,” Nicky says, pain and hopelessness bleeding into his words. “I want to be, but I’m not. I need to spend more time with Adam, working on identifying what triggered me and how to manage it. There isn’t anything about that you can take on or carry for me.”
“I can try.” I ease us apart. I learned something about myself today, too.
I don’t want to continue working with the team.
I want to be home with this family—my family.
Only, I know I can’t say that right now.
Nicky needs to focus on healing the pieces of himself that are not fixable in the gym, and I want to do whatever I can to help him without adding another stressor to the mix.
I have faith that the right time to figure out my work situation will come.
Because I can still be supportive of him from the office and get my time with Nat every day.
“You don’t have to try, solnyshka, you already are.” He nods toward the living room, and I follow his gaze.
“She seems to be fine,” I say. Nicky shifts us—and the topic—until we’re both leaning against the island. “Didn’t complain about anything on the way home. Just quiet and cuddly. I can’t figure out how she got sick. She doesn’t have any other symptoms.”
“Kids puke sometimes,” he says with a shrug.
My brow pinches, and I cross my arms, staring into the house as though an answer will materialize.
Nicky’s low chuckle breaks my imagination, and he bumps my shoulder with his.
“It doesn’t always make sense, but she’s eating and doesn’t have any other symptoms. She’ll be just fine. ”
“I don’t like it when she’s hurting.” I sigh. “I couldn’t get out of the office fast enough.”
Nicky tucks me against him, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
“She called me Mommy.”
My voice catches in my throat, the emotion of that admission unbalancing me in all of the best ways, but I brace for Nicky’s reaction.
He’s raised her by himself, teaching her to accept families in every form and never lying to her about the shape of her own.
I haven’t intentionally tried to fill that role, but caring for Nat has come as easily as breathing, and my love for her runs almost as deeply as it does for the man next to me.
“Did she?” Nicky keeps me next to him, and I resist looking up at him.
“I heard her through the phone in the nurse’s office,” I confirm. Nicky hums.
“Is that okay with you?” he asks. I do look up at him then, confused. “If she started calling you that?”
Nicky is smiling. The special smile that’s mine, but somehow also the one he gives Natalia. Warmth, belonging, and everything I’ve chased my whole life bloom inside of me.
“I would be honored.”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead, dropping his arm to thread his fingers through mine. “We’re going to all be okay. Together, we’re going to be okay.”