Chapter 38
Rome
Something wet and squishy against my mouth startles me awake and my eyes pop open. Marty’s not-quite-two-year-old son, Brad, is standing at eye level, watching me intently.
“Bek-fist?” he asks, happily holding out a fistful of wet, soggy cereal.
“No thanks, buddy, I’m good.”
Apparently, no isn’t the right answer, because he pushes the messy concoction more firmly against my mouth.
“Bradley!” Stevie comes skidding into the room. “What did we say about waking up Uncle Rome?”
“Bek-fist!” he says, as if that explains everything.
“I’m so sorry,” Stevie whispers, scooping Bradley up. “Marty left to take Martin to school and Emma was having a meltdown so Bradley got away from me.”
“I mean, it’s not my choice of food, but who can say no to breakfast in bed?” I ask good-naturedly.
Marty and Stevie have been godsends, inviting me into their home pretty much no questions asked.
“Sorry!” Stevie hurries out, closing the door behind her and I roll onto my back.
It’s time to get up anyway.
Tonight is game three, here in L.A. We have a morning skate at ten and then have to be back at the arena around four. I’m trying to muster up the tiniest bit of excitement but since my conversation with Billie yesterday, it feels like my life went from color to black and white.
The hurt in her eyes nearly undid me. Then she masked it with anger, and I can’t blame her. I hate the thought that I’ve made her cry, but I’m being pulled in so many directions right now. It’s hard to consider moving on without her, especially after the things Ms. Barrowman said.
How she chose me because she thinks I’m a good fit here.
How the team needs someone exactly like me to shake things up.
How I’ve performed better in my short time here than Bodi has playing all season.
That’s such a mixed bag because on one hand—I want to stay.
So fucking bad I can taste it. I can play it cool when I talk to other people, but on the inside, of course I don’t want to retire.
I’d play forever if I could, and I’m pretty sure ninety-nine percent of all players would say the same thing.
Reality isn’t the same thing as what we want in our hearts, so you pretend you’re resigned to whatever is going to happen.
Pretend you’re ready for whatever comes next, when hockey no longer dominates your every thought, your schedule, your life.
That’s when you buy a cabin on a lake in Bumfuck, New York and pretend you’re okay with this next phase.
That is, until you meet a firecracker of a woman who tilts your world—and everything you thought you knew—on its axis.
She wasn’t supposed to be my teammate’s little sister.
She wasn’t supposed to be thirteen years younger than me.
She definitely wasn’t supposed to make me fall in love with her.
But she is and she did.
And I just told my boss that I’m okay with being traded away from the best thing to ever happen to me because her jerk of a brother deserves his chance. I’m one injury away from the end, so it makes sense to bet on Bodi. Not the old guy who doesn’t bring anything but experience to the table.
Fuck.
I get dressed and freshen up before wandering downstairs.
I’ve tried not to get in the way of Marty and Stevie’s routine, especially now that we’re in the throes of the playoffs and she’s buried in wedding planning.
Their wedding is at the end of June in Paris, so the formal dining room has been turned into a staging area.
Folders and magazines, lists and samples, books and sketches.
I’ve never seen anything like it, certainly not for either of my weddings.
Of course, I never married a supermodel.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Marty asks me when I get to the kitchen. “We can stop at a drive-through if you want to grab something?”
We’d decided to drive to practice together so I nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“I hear Brad woke you up this morning. Sorry about that.”
I chuckle. “It’s no biggie. He’s fun.”
Marty rolls his eyes. “I mean, sometimes…”
We get in his SUV and he heads toward a drive-thru.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I admit. “I’m putting one foot in front of the other, trying to focus on hockey, but it’s not easy.”
“It’s not. I found out my wife was fucking one of my teammates on a road trip, so I understand the distraction, the turmoil. But you need to put it all on the back burner until the season is over.”
“Doing my best.” I stare out the window, trying not to show any more vulnerability than necessary. He’s been a good friend to me but I’m not ready to talk about the mess I’m in beyond what he already knows.
“If you love her, she’ll still be there this summer.”
“She said she wouldn’t.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. I asked for some time to figure out some things and she told me to take all the time I need because she won’t be there when I’m done.”
“That was hurt talking.”
“It was. But I know Billie. She’s torn between me and her brother, so I had to take that choice off the table. There’s no way in hell I can make her choose. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want us together, so…”
“He’ll get over it. He has to. Because he’ll drive her away all on his own if he keeps this up.”
“He needs therapy,” I say. “Billie thinks it’s because he never got help for the trauma of losing his parents the way he did.
Now that trauma is manifesting itself in being overprotective with her.
And it’s random, like he was fine with her living in a dorm in college, as long as they were in the same city, but when he moved to L.A.
he wouldn’t leave her behind. And he seems to think hockey players are the worst human beings on the planet. ”
“He’s projecting,” Marty says after a moment. “He’s always on the prowl. And he’s single, so more power to him, but it’s not fair to paint us all in the same light.”
“To be fair, I’ve been divorced twice and haven’t always been a good guy in relationships.”
“Have you been good to Billie?”
I take a few seconds to think about that.
Have I?
I think back to us going skating in Venice. Helping her get on the ice on Easter. Introducing her to my family. Giving her my dad’s car. So many ways I tried to show her I cared.
“I have,” I say finally, because it’s true.
“And do you love her?”
That’s the million-dollar question.
Because I think I do but is thinking it the same as actually feeling it?
“If you don’t, then you’re doing the right thing by walking away.”
“But if I do?”
“Then you’d better figure out how to make this up to her—and how to get things right with Bodi—before you lose her for good.”
“I don’t know that there’s anything I can do to make Bodi accept me as the man in Billie’s life.”
“It might be time for Bodi to grow up,” he says thoughtfully.
“Because even if it’s not you, there will be a man in Billie’s life at some point.
Today, tomorrow, in five years. He has to get his head out of his ass.
Maybe we should talk to Blake—the two of them go way back—see if we can get any insight. ”
“We?”
He smiles. “It’s exhausting being the second-oldest guy on the team. It’s like being a big brother to the whole locker room. Gabe and I need some help reining them in. So I don’t want to lose you.”
“I told Ms. Barrowman if one of us had to go, it should be me. Chances are, I won’t be here next season.”
“Dude, you know damn well that’s not how it works. Bodi’s talented but lazy and distracted by all his extracurricular activities. I’d be willing to bet they keep you and trade him. At the very least, he won’t be protected during the expansion draft.”
There will be a new team coming into the league next season, the Atlanta Thunder, and once the season is over, they’ll be able to take one player from each existing team during the draft.
Current teams can only protect a limited number of players, so guys like Bodi and me will be up for grabs.
And no one is taking a thirty-five-year-old prone to injury.
“I just don’t want them to send him back down to the minors.”
“That’s not on you. Nothing that’s happening is your fault. You and Billie started dating, which shouldn’t be a big deal. Bodi’s the one who made it into a thing.”
“I know.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t fucking know.”
“You’re going to need to figure it out because you can’t fix any of this if you don’t.”
It’s just not that easy.
My feelings for her and being together—that part is easy. It’s everything else that gets complicated.
Whether or not I want to stay in L.A.
Not knowing what the future holds for me professionally.
My finances, or lack thereof.
Except Billie doesn’t care about money. I know that with everything I am.
She’s tied to L.A. short-term, especially if she decides to finish grad school, but it wouldn’t necessarily be forever. She has a lot of irons in the fire, all of them promising, and it feels like she’s put a lot more thought into our future than I have.
Please don’t give up on me, I think as we pull up to the arena.
I just need a little time to get through hockey season, figure out what’s next both for me and for us, if there’s going to be an us.
Because I do love her.
I’m just not sure that’s enough.