Chapter Eleven
Bodhi
Gemma runs around the back yard with a bubble gun that’s almost the same size as her. “Be lucky it wasn’t another Nerf gun,” Tori, Sebastian’s wife, tells me with a grin.
I groan, thinking of the last time Henderson brought a gift for my daughter.
It was a Nerf Blaster machine gun with over five-thousand rounds of Velcro darts that could be loaded into an ammo belt.
The thing was twice the size of her and only took her twenty minutes to nail Sebastian in the eye on accident.
Then she hit him square in the groin with at least ten rounds all in rapid succession.
I never thought it could hurt that bad until she got me in the same spot at a speed I didn’t realize Nerf guns could blast at.
I’d made her put it up after that.
“True,” I agree, watching her chase Sebastian around. Then I turn to study their son who’s dozing in her arms. “If he buys her all of this shit, I can’t imagine what he’s going to do when Beckham is big enough to start playing with the same toys.”
Tori gives me a bland look. “Don’t get me started. He’s already talking about all of the things he’s waiting to get for him. I’ve had to talk him down from half of it, and the other half is piling up in our basement waiting to be opened when he reaches the proper age range.”
“Are ice skates one of them?”
She groans. “Yes. He bought them in at least five different sizes so he can grow into them. But what if Beckham doesn’t want to skate?”
From across the yard, we here, “Don’t say that!” from Sebastian. “He’ll be just like his daddy.”
“God help us then,” I say to Tori, loud enough for my best friend to hear.
She blows out a raspberry with her lips. “All I’m saying is that we should be supporting whatever hobbies he might want to entertain. He could be a football player for all we know.”
Tori is talking quiet enough for her husband not to hear, because we both know that Sebastian has always wanted to teach his kids how to skate.
I’m sure if Beckham, or any future Henderson, was interested in another sport he’d be fully supportive.
He might not like it, but my grandfather hated my love for hockey and still showed up.
I have no doubt my best friend would do the same.
“He’ll be fine with whatever Beck chooses,” I reassure her. When I see her try to adjust the sleepy Beckham in her arms, I reach out toward him. “Let me take him.”
I know from personal experience that the little boy is a solid twenty-five pounds, and I’d bet anything her arms are asleep from holding him. I set my drink down on the patio table and grab him from her, smiling as he nuzzles into me.
She gives me a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m going to use the bathroom real quick. If he wakes up and fusses, pass him to his dad. He can deal with it”
I stoke their son’s hair, which is longer than it usually is. Last time I saw them, I asked Sebastian if he was trying to get his son’s hair to be longer than mine. He’d flipped me off and told me he’d buzz cut Beckham’s hair before he ever had a man bun. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him.”
There was a lot I missed when Gemma was younger, and I blame myself every day for not trying harder to be more involved.
Sure, Inez wasn’t particularly in love with the idea of coparenting since I’d told her it wouldn’t work out between us as a couple, but I’d wanted to still be there as a parent.
She was hurt, so I get the resentment she had toward me.
But that cost me precious time with our daughter that I’ll never get back.
Her first steps. Her first word. Her first tooth. Her first haircut.
Every time I start to go down that rabbit hole of all the things I missed, I remember where Inez is right now.
It halts the train of thought and buries it, because at least I have time with Gemma.
I have more firsts to experience that her mother won’t be there for. Experiences Inez deserved more of.
Sebastian jogs over and grabs the beer he abandoned to play with Gemma. “What’s up? You look constipated.”
I glare at him. “Just thinking.”
“Ah.” He nods once, studying me. “Got it.”
“Got what?”
“You always look that way when you think about Inez,” he states, taking a sip of his drink.
I reposition Beckham on my good shoulder now that he’s dead weight on me. “I feel like an asshole being irritated with her about missing Gemma when she was this little since she isn’t here. And that makes me wish I could—”
“Don’t,” Sebastian says firmly, pinning me with one of his rare serious expressions.
“Don’t go down that road, because I know what you’re going to say.
You can’t trade places with her, man. I know you want to.
I know you think Inez could be a better parent than you.
But that’s not true. You love Gemma so much and look how happy she is. You’re a great dad.”
It isn’t that I think I’m a bad father. I know I’m a good one. But Inez was born to be a mother. She had every maternal bone and instinct in her body that suited her for the role. Me, on the hand, not so much. I’d never thought that hard about kids because hockey was all my mind focused on.
How to win.
How to improve.
How to be the best right-winger the NHL had.
When Inez told me she was pregnant, it felt like my world came crashing down.
She and I weren’t serious—not to me anyway.
Sure, she spent a lot of time at my place, but we didn’t live together.
I’m not even sure we’d had the “exclusive” talk at that point.
I’m pretty sure the first words out of my mouth when she told me were, “Is it mine?”
To which she stormed out of my condo with her middle finger up in the air before slamming the door.
In all fairness, I’d tried calling her multiple times after that.
She never got back to me until my agent dropped off an envelope with DNA results from the paternity test that he and my manager told me to request that was a ninety-nine-point-nine percent match to me, as well as a card that had “congratulations” on the front of it with “you’re the father asshole” written in Inez’s handwriting on the inside.
It was a well-deserved punch to the nuts.
I wish I grew up knowing I was going to be a husband and father someday, but I didn’t. It wasn’t until finally holding Gemma for the first time, almost two months after her birth because Inez and her family didn’t want me around, that something clicked inside me.
From that day on, I’d loved that little girl unconditionally. Hell. I think I loved her from the first ultrasound picture. She was the first true love of my life. My best friend. A part of me.
“My only wish is that her mother was here” is what I settle on, knowing Sebastian will chide me if I say anything else. “She deserves to have a maternal figure in her life other than her grandma.”
Gemma sees my family on the holidays but isn’t nearly as close with my parents as Inez’s.
It’s unfortunate, but it is what it is. Unlike Joe and Helen, my parents couldn’t afford to move up because of the small greenhouse business they run in Vermont.
They have roots there and declined my offer to buy them something in New York when I offered to bring them to be closer.
“You’ve got your own life there, son,” Dad tells me. “We’ve got ours here. We’ll still watch your games and root you on.”
My family has always been on the unconventional side.
From the outside looking in, people would see them as one-with-nature types.
Hippies, I guess. They’re laidback and humble.
Smoke a little too much weed sometimes. They never travel, unless it is to local farmer’s market.
But they’re good people. Quiet. Keep to themselves.
They know everybody in town and send Christmas cards to regulars who come to the greenhouse.
I just don’t see them much as I’d like. But it is what it is.
I chose a career that took me out of Vermont, which is exactly what I wanted. They support that. They watch my games. They send me invites for Thanksgiving and Christmas. And when I’m not working on those holidays, I try my best to go.
When I was going through hell trying to figure out my situation with Gemma, they had my back and told me it would all work out.
Inez and her family lived not far from mine growing up, which is inevitably how we connected years down the road.
She was at a game and brought up the Green Mountain State, and we bonded over beer and childhood memories.
My parents didn’t love what Inez and her folks were putting me through, but they understood why it was a difficult situation for everybody involved.
I leaned on them during that time and appreciated their support.
It was better than nothing.
“You good?” Sebastia asks, nudging me out of my thoughts. “You spaced.”
I brush off the homesick feeling. “I’m fine. I was thinking about my family, that’s all.”
“When was the last time you saw them?”
I think about it. “New Years, maybe? Before that, it wasn’t since I settled things with Joe and Helen over Gemma and we all agreed on a gameplan that worked best for her.”
He nods in understanding. “Maybe you and Gem should take a trip on bye week then.”
It’s not a bad idea, and I doubt Joe and Helen would mind since they prefer Vermont to New York three times over. “That’s not a bad idea,” I admit.
A small smirk curls the sides of Sebastian’s lips, telling me he’s about to say something stupid. “If you’re looking for a maternal figure in her life, it seems like Honor could fill that role. Gemma has been telling me all about her dog.”