Chapter Nine
Bodhi
Honor sits on the couch cushion closest to the door, periodically looking at it every few minutes as if she’s debating whether or not to run.
She hasn’t fidgeted too much since sitting down, although her eyes were distant and downtrodden the entire time we ate dinner. It’s clear there’s something on her mind, but I don’t know if it’s my business to ask.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything other than water to drink?” I ask, watching her squirm.
She rubs her palms up and down her denim-clad thighs. “No.” Her lips flatten before she offers me a stiff smile. “Thank you, though.”
I sit across from her with a cold beer that I grabbed from the fridge.
Drinking isn’t something I do often these days, especially during the season.
But with Gemma gone, I figured now would be a perfect time to sit back and relax with one when I don’t have to worry about her drinking it if my back is turned.
I learned the hard way that she’ll take a sip of anything she sees me drinking.
“Not a drinker?” I question out of curiosity.
She bites down on her bottom lip. “No,” she eventually answers. “I’ve never had much of a taste for it, which is probably a good thing.”
My head cocks. Coach doesn’t seem like a big drinker, not that I’ve paid that much attention. Mostly because it’s me and the team who are typically the ones toasted when we’re all together.
“Can I ask you something?” Honor finally says, bringing her feet up under her and sitting cross-legged on them.
My lips quirk slightly. “Isn’t that what you’re here to do?”
She picks at something on her jeans. “This question isn’t hockey related.
Although, I do need to ask you about the positions again because I got my hand slapped for photographing the wrong person at your last game when my supervisor was calling out candid shots to send to all of the agents.
” Her admission comes with the tiniest wince. “Whoops.”
Interest has my fingers flexing around the beer bottle. “Ask away.”
She shifts in her seat, settling into the cushions. “Are you ever worried about your daughter’s life being too chaotic because of your career? People know who you are. They look you up. Wear your jersey. You have fans. That can’t be normal for Gemma, so do you worry about it?”
The first thought that comes to mind isn’t an answer to her question. It’s what she would look like in my jersey. Then I swipe that mental image away and tell myself to calm down.
Honor must interpret my distracted silence for discomfort.
“I know it’s a personal question, and you don’t have to answer.
But Sylvia and I were talking on the way here and it made me think about how my childhood would have been different if my dad had been more involved in my life.
I don’t know if I would have loved it or hated it. ”
It’s a long drive from Coach’s place to mine for a conversation like that, but I entertain her with the best answer I have.
“Ever since Inez, Gem’s mother, died, I’ve made it my life mission to make sure my daughter is happy.
It hasn’t been easy. I didn’t know how to be a dad when I became one.
Hell, I still feel that way sometimes. But I know that providing this life for Gemma is the best thing I can do for her.
I try to involve her as much as I can without it getting in the way of her schooling and social life, and that’s where her grandparents come in and have helped me the most. So, yeah.
I do worry a little. But I know that what I’m doing is going to make her life better. At least, I hope that’s the case.”
Honor slowly nods, her tongue dragging across the seam of her lips as she processes my answer.
“I used to hold a lot of resentment over my dad constantly leaving me with Sylvia. I already had one parent who was barely present in my life, and having to spend every other weekend with another one who was in and out didn’t make me feel particularly loved.
” Her lips weigh further at the corners.
“But Sylvia made a point to me that I never thought about before, and I realized that my dad loved me more than I thought by giving me some stability. God only knows I didn’t have that when I was in my mom’s custody. ”
There’s a lot of new information here for the internal folder I’ve been collecting on her.
I file away the newest tidbit next to her favorite color being purple and her favorite kind of drinks being anything diabetes-inducingly sweet if what I’ve witnessed over the past couple of weeks are any indication.
Maybe her mother is also the reason she doesn’t have a taste for alcohol. It’s something I don’t bother pressing her on, because I don’t think she’ll want to divulge. At least not yet.
Puck walks over and rests his chin on her legs until she starts petting him. He must sense the sadness in her voice too. Either that or he’s trying to alert her, which puts me on alert too.
“What would Puck do if he senses…?” I wave my fingers at her like she can read my mind.
Honor’s eyebrows go up. “A seizure?” she guesses. “He usually puts his paw on me or nudges me with his nose. He’s not doing that now, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Relief floods me. Comfort.
Puck is simply comforting her.
“I’ve known your dad for almost a decade now,” I tell her, watching her eyes lift from her dog.
“I know that doesn’t compare to the lifetime you’ve known him or to the experiences we’ve both had with the different versions of him.
But he’s always been family oriented with the best intentions for everyone at heart.
With the team. With Sylvia. He’s even given me advice more times than I can count since Gemma became a big part of my life.
And you know the piece of advice he drilled into my head the most? ”
She shakes her head.
“He told me to make sure Gemma knew how much she was loved,” I tell her, remembering the way Coach’s eyes dimmed when he said that to me.
I should have known he was speaking out of experience.
“Do me a favor, son. Make sure Gemma knows how loved she is every day. Because the second she starts second guessing it, you’ve done something wrong. And that’s a heartbreaking feeling.”
He’d been talking about Honor.
About their relationship.
“I hope that you two can work out whatever it is you need to,” I add honestly, giving her a genuine smile.
“Because I think you’d see that the man I know is a pretty damn good one.
Maybe he didn’t show it to you the way he should have in the past, but there’s always an opportunity for second chances in life. ”
My lips twitch thinking about the second chance that Gemma will never get with her mother.
She’ll never have the moments she deserves.
Inez won’t be here to teach her about training bras and tampons or to comfort her after her first heartbreak.
There used to be a lot I was afraid of messing up that terrified me about being the only parent she depends on.
Then I realized I’m not. She has Joe and Helen, Coach Erikson and Sylvia, and Sebastian and Tori.
They say it takes a village to raise a child and it’s true.
Which is good, because I don’t know how the hell I’m going to explain menstruation to her when she hits puberty.
“If Gemma ever felt like I could have loved her more, I’d be a broken man,” I admit, my heart tugging at the thought.
“So I can only imagine what your father must feel like. Not that I’m choosing sides or justifying anything that’s happened.
I don’t know the circumstances. I’m just saying from a father’s point of view, I’d want to do anything it took to ensure my kid had a good life. A good childhood. Happiness.”
Honor’s gaze lowers to Puck, but I see her bottom lip wiggle. Then I hear the faintest sniffle, followed by another one, then a third. Her dog whines and nuzzles her hand, trying to comfort her as her breathing gets choppy.
“Honor?” I ask, setting my beer down and sliding to the edge of my chair. Her head drops lower, shielding her face with her hair. “What is it? Is it something I said?”
The girl across from me drags the back of her hand along her cheeks as her sniffles become more aggressive. “I-I’m sorry,” she apologizes, trying to take a deep breath.
I get up and close the distance between us, kneeling in front of her. When she lifts her chin, my heart cracks at her teary, red-rimmed eyes that meet mine. “You don’t need to apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
She clenches her eyelids, trying to stop the tears from flowing.
A few more stream down her face and I want nothing more than to swipe them away with my thumbs, but I keep my hands to myself.
“I can’t even think about myself as a parent because I don’t know if I’ll ever get to be one,” she tells me, her face reddening as she dries her cheeks with her wrist. “I’d like to think I’d be okay at it, but who knows if that day will ever come? ”
I frown, trying to understand what she’s saying. “Why don’t you think you’ll get the chance to be a mom?”
She sniffs back tears, takes a deep breath, and finally opens her eyes. “This is so pathetic. I’m not a crier.”
I hold up my finger. “One second.” I rush into the kitchen where a box of tissues is on the counter and bring them in for her, taking the same spot in front of her no matter how badly my knees are screaming at me to get up. “Here.”