39. Cal
Chapter thirty-nine
Cal
My wooing plans were momentarily put on hold since we flew out for back-to-back games in San Diego. Compared to the dry, biting autumn winds of Serenity Springs, this California humidity and sunshine were the dream.
I wasn’t sure what bothered me more, knowing Jackson was in the crowd and we hadn’t delivered, or the guys ribbing me about being distracted by Noelle. I wasn’t distracted. If anything, thinking about her sharpened my focus. Wanting to impress her. But it wasn’t enough.
With that kind of loss, team morale was at an all-time low, and I definitely didn’t feel like celebrating.
But tonight wasn’t about me. This was about Jackson.
I could pull myself together long enough to get through dinner before going back to the hotel and dissecting every part of my performance tonight. How I could have done better.
But first things first. Jackson was getting the VIP treatment with a trip to the locker room. He and Gabe were waiting with Bells when I approached. “What’s up, my man?” I held my fist up in front of the blond, buck-toothed preteen. “Happy birthday!”
Jackson gaped at me for point two seconds. “Dude!” He bumped my fist, vibrating with excitement.
I grinned at him. “You ready to come say hi to the guys? We’ve got a present for you.”
The kid lit up like the Fourth of July sky. “Best birthday ever!” And he was shining even brighter once we got into the locker room and the guys gave him the signed birthday card and Chargers ball cap.
We did our best to keep upbeat, but Jackson was smart.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he said after giving high fives and fist bumps to the guys. “You lost. Big deal. You’ll do better next time.”
“You aren’t disappointed?” I asked the boy.
“Sure.” Jackson shrugged. “Losing stinks, but it’s part of the game. If you aren’t willing to preserve and spill your guts on the ice, you don’t deserve to win. At least, that’s what Dad says.”
Wow. Deep truths from a newly minted eleven-year-old with a wily cowlick. Preserve. I was ninety percent sure the word he was looking for was persevere, but I wasn’t going to correct him.
Gabe chuckled, confirming my suspicions of a mistaken word. “Not quite what I said, but it’s nice to know you were paying attention.”
“Well, someone said don’t let the fear of messing up stop you from playing the game,” Jackson added, unperturbed.
Jamie nudged Brooks and stage-whispered, “I think he just paraphrased Babe Ruth.”
“No way,” Brooks countered. “Definitely Hilary Duff’s dad in that one show.”
“Are you even old enough to know who that is?” Van asked.
Brooks shoved his shoulder. “Dude, I’ve got four sisters. Me and that blonde cartoon conscience have seen some stuff.”
“Life lessons from a cartoon? Sign me up.” Jamie high-fived his friend.
“You’ve got sisters?” Van perked up.
Brooks smacked him with a towel. “Never gonna happen.”
Myles cleared his throat and gave them the look. He got a lot of mileage out of that expression. The bickering trio refocused on Jackson.
“Wise words, my man,” Jamie said, then nudged Max. “Lay all the cards on the table. This tracking with you, Magic?”
“Bells,” Brooks coughed.
“Children,” Max muttered, red creeping up his neck.
Jackson focused on me. “Why’d you hesitate on that shot in the second period? You never hesitate.”
Man, this kid missed nothing. Was he seriously only eleven?
“I got up in my head.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“That’s a bummer. Just think, if you took that shot, you could have won.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“Way too much,” Van joked, slinging a towel around his neck.
“You hear that, Cap?” Myles teased. “Your number one fan said do better.” He winked at Jackson. “Does this make me the favourite tonight?”
Jackson flashed an impish grin. “Actually your weak spot was showing in the third period. I mean, they got six shots on you.”
“Ooh, burn.” I fist-bumped Jackson.
“What’ll it take to win you over?” Myles sighed in mock frustration.
“Pigs flying first,” I retorted. “Little dude’s got loyalty.”
Jackson laughed and scampered over to the goalie, ready to continue the conversation. “So, what’s it like to have something fly at your face at ninety miles an hour? Is it like getting punched? Have you lost any teeth?”
Gabe, who’d been watching the interaction with an indulgent smile, chuckled. “Kids.”
Yeah, kids. But God had a way of getting your attention. And sometimes His messengers were precocious preteens with toothy smiles.
Don’t hold back. No fear.
“You’re raising a good one,” I said quietly.
Pride touched Gabe’s wry smile as he watched his son wave his hands animatedly in a conversation with Myles. “Thanks. They keep you humble but, man, they’re worth it.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
After a few selfies and more advice on how to improve our game, Gabe and Jackson left, and I hurried to grab a shower so I could catch a ride with them to the restaurant. But Jackson’s words lodged in my brain on repeat.
I had been holding back. Keeping my feelings close to the vest, especially after the paparazzi.
I knew how I felt about Noelle, and now wasn’t the time to second-guess or play it safe.
This very occurrence was what I’d prayed for.
I might not understand why we had to break to get to this point, but I trusted it was part of God’s plan.
I was done holding back, and it was time to tell her that. Right after dinner.
Gabe chatted with the hostess about the reservation, but her eyes kept wandering over to me while I played peek-a-boo with three-year-old Eden, Gabe and Ivy’s youngest. And look, I wasn’t vain, but I couldn’t get this toddler to crack a smile. Everyone smiled at me. I must be losing my touch.
The third time the hostess glanced my way, I sighed. At this rate, we wouldn’t be sitting down until Thanksgiving. Time to speed things along. Stepping up to the counter, I nodded at her. “Ma’am.”
She tittered, the high-pitched sound grating my nerves.
“I’m here with family friends”—I motioned to Gabe—“so if we could keep this quiet, that’d be great.” As much as I loved interacting with the fans, I hated when my presence took away from other people’s time to shine. Just like it had with Noelle. Tonight was Jackson’s night.
“Right. Sure. Of course.” She smiled at me, dazed, but led us to the back of the restaurant to a quiet booth.
Conversation drifted to the menu, Gabe’s last month in the Marines before his contract was officially over, and Jackson’s birthday plans.
“You still playing hockey, Jackson?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.” He wrinkled his nose. “But San Diego isn’t prime hockey territory.”
Gabe reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. “Once we get to Denver and experience a Colorado winter, you’ll be missing the sunshine.”
“So Denver is a go?” I sipped my lemon water. “Nana was okay with that?”
Ivy laughed. “Okay with might be stretching it.”
Gabe sighed like a weary general. “We’re still in negotiations.”
That’s what he said. Negotiations. Like this was a full-blown military tactical invasion with backup plans, reroutes, and a hostage crisis.
Because one never simply discussed anything with the half-Italian, bright-colour-loving octogenarian who marched like life was a drill sergeant and demanded your full attention.
“So Spokane is still on the table then?” I joked since that’s where Gabe’s younger half sister, Stephanie, and her new husband, Nash, lived.
“Anything’s possible at this rate.” Gabe grunted. “Even Alaska if Nana has a mind to go.”
Once the food came, conversation slowed into clattering forks and contented sighs.
Jackson and Ava were locked in a debate about the pros and cons of macaroni noodle shapes—eight-year-old Ava was a penne fan, while Jackson supported the fusilli.
Ryder, the oldest at thirteen, opened a fresh ketchup packet for Eden, who was silently chomping on chicken nuggets.
The remains of the previous condiment package liberally coated her hands and face.
Gabe wiped a smear from Eden’s cheek before turning to me with a smile. “So Noelle’s back?”
I stared at him. The Hockey HotScoop was in full swing with gossip, but they hadn’t stumbled on a name yet. “How did you possibly know about that? We live, what, almost a thousand miles away? And if you say you read The Vine—”
Gabe held up a hand. “Steph told me.”
“Who heard it from Juliet no doubt,” I grumbled. “This grapevine thing is getting out of hand.”
“Is it going okay?” Ivy asked, her mom reflexes catching Eden’s cup before she upset it all over the table.
Jackson’s words came back to me. Lay it all out.
A moment of honesty wouldn’t hurt. And it might be nice to get some outside perspective.
“I don’t know. I’m all in. I wasn’t good at really listening back then, and I missed a lot of things.
Things that drove her away. Things I never should have brushed off just because I was uncomfortable with talking about serious feelings.
Now . . . I know she’s scared. And I should be, but I’m not. Maybe I’m too cocky for my own good.”
Definitely, Greyson agreed in my head.
Shut up. “But it feels right. Like a second chance.” I shrugged.
Gabe glanced at Ivy, expression soft and thoughtful. “I did the same thing once.”
I blinked at him. “Says the man sitting in front of me with a wife and four kids.”
Ivy chuckled, patting her husband’s arm. “He means he didn’t listen or open up. He left for boot camp without telling me first that he’d even enlisted.”
“Man.” I whistled and popped a fry in my mouth. “I was a dumb kid, but even I knew to run something like that past Elle first.”
Gabe huffed softly. “I had some growing up to do. Family tensions with my stepfather pushed me over the edge, so I ran and hurt the person I loved best.”
“And yet she took you back?” I mused, glancing between them.