Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
TAI
Overhearing that Hawke would give up hockey for me has me choked up for days.
Like Kasen, I know what hockey means to him.
I was there through all the highs and lows before his professional career got started, and knowing how hard it was for me to walk away, when I didn’t have a tenth of the love for the sport as Hawke does, makes it that much more impactful.
I never want Hawke to have to choose. My answer would have been the same as Kasen’s—well, except for the nepotism—that Hawke’s not allowed to quit.
With his confession and our feelings out there and the way being in St. Louis opened my eyes to a lot of things, I’ve started to take stock of my life since I got back.
And I don’t like what I see.
Other than my bedroom, the house has me in a constant state of panic. I’m working too much. I’m cutting friends out of my life before they can properly enter it, and I’m tired.
Hawke will leave because he has to, and up until now, I’ve been convinced that I’ll fall back into a spiral and live there forever.
But I don’t want to do that.
I want to be able to come home and relax like I could at his place. I want to be able to enjoy weekends doing nothing. I want my time back.
The first thing I tackle is the kitchen. Another sleepless night, another junk and donate pile, and I scrub the cabinets and bench tops and tiles until there isn’t a speck of dirt left. It’s still too full with the trash bags waiting to go out, but it’s an improvement.
Dad notices the next day. “You were the one making all the noise last night?”
“Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Don’t be sorry. It looks great out here.”
It does, if I don’t turn around and look at every other inch of the house. “It’s a start.”
The foyer is next. For a small space, it’s a big job, and I fall asleep on the floor halfway through the night.
Dad wakes me with a nudge from his walking stick. “Last I checked, you have a bed.”
I groan as I sit up and blink sleep out of my eyes. “Must have crashed.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
He knows full well that I always do. “Thanks, Dad. But I think they call this motivation?”
“Well, you tell your motivation that you need sleep.”
Even being as tired as I am, I can’t shake the good mood. Elise and Hawke both notice it at training, but it’s like a fire has been lit in my chest, and I want to keep it there for as long as possible.
Until I get home that afternoon, ready to tackle the other half of the hallway, but as I walk through the front door, all my momentum screeches to a halt.
“Dad?” I call. “Were we robbed?”
He chuckles as he appears in the doorway. “Don’t be ridiculous. Told my walking group to come on in and take whatever they wanted from here. Abel grabbed all that trash from the back door as well. Said he has room in his dumpster at work for it.”
I’m not sure how to feel about people being in here and seeing what it was like. All that’s left is a pair of Dad’s boots by the hall table, a bowl with some keys in it, the mirror that’s lived on the wall forever, and three new hooks on the opposite wall. One of them is holding Dad’s jacket.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing at the hooks.
“Ah. They’re not straight, but Jeffery gave me a hand making sure I was putting them in the right spot.”
“You did it?” I wish I could hide my surprise better because Dad gives me a shrewd look. “My right hand is as good as it ever was.”
“They look great.”
“I know.” He beams and heads back into the living room.
I go to follow him, but I’m immediately swallowed up by that drowning feeling, so I head to my bedroom instead. It could still use some more work in here, and so could the kitchen, but that foyer is bare. It’s done. It looks the way a foyer should look.
All because Dad asked for help.
Something I’ve never been good at in my life.
Not only does it hurt to not feel capable, but when it comes to the house, I’m embarrassed that it’s gotten like this, and with summer coming to an end and having to return to coaching at the high school, there’s no way I’m going to get through it all in time.
I might not like it, but I can’t do this on my own. Otherwise, the fire will burn out, and everything will go back to how it was. If that happens, what was the point of this summer?
I open my messages to Hawke and send him one that I never thought I’d say.
I think I need your help.
Hawke doesn’t ask questions. As soon as I tell him that I have to do something about the house, he tells me he’ll handle it and hangs up.
Five people show up. They’re meticulous and careful and respectful of our things. We have a meeting with them beforehand about what to do if they find anything broken and repairable, what are the key items we want to keep, and if there are any areas of the house that are off-limits.
Then they get to work.
Hawke takes over practice on Friday so that I can stay home and help, and once it’s finished, he and Kasen turn up to lend a hand. Not long after that, Gigi walks in too, asking me to point her in the direction of the bathroom because, “I’m basically a grout whisperer, Tai. It’s my specialty.”
I’m numb as I point down the hall and turn to Hawke. “You told your sister too?”
He lifts his hands. “No, only Kasen and the people I hired. I swear.”
“Then where did she come from?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Belli says, long skirt fluttering as she hurries across the front lawn. “That was me. She was in the cafe and asked where I was headed. As soon as I mentioned cleaning, she perked right up.”
“And … how did you know?”
“Ben told me.”
“Dad …”
He joins us with a wide smile. “Tell me you brought something I can put in my mouth while I work.”
She laughs and hands over a paper bag. “Where are we getting started?”
“Through here.”
She follows him into the living room, and I turn to Hawke. “I’m not used to having so many people in the house.”
“I know. But they’re here because they want to be.”
“I’m not,” Kasen cuts in. “I don’t even like cleaning my own room.”
“You don’t have to be,” I quickly say.
“Eh, I’m here now.” He heads in the same direction as Dad.
“He asked to come with me,” Hawke says. “I swear it.”
“Still … All these years, I’ve avoided people coming over, and now they’re here and seeing …” My shame? Our depression? The pit we buried ourselves in before we realized we’d have to claw our way back out again?
“No one’s judging you.”
“I’m judging me.”
“And that’s fine, but no one else is.”
I give his arm a tight squeeze. “I swear I’ll pay you back for this as soon as I can.”
“No.” Hawke’s heavy brow falls. “Don’t insult me.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“Then accept the help I should have been allowed to give you years ago.”
We stare each other down, but I give in first. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
“Nowhere near as much as you mean to me.”
Yeah … how the fuck am I supposed to say goodbye again?
Belli’s laugh catches my attention and drags it away from Hawke. It’s closely followed by Dad’s voice. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
I move closer to the doorway. “What’s ridiculous?”
Dad waves me away, not answering, so I turn to Belli instead.
“All I said”—she’s flipping through a stack of canvases—“is that I want him to paint something for the cafe.”
Dad makes a choking noise. “I can’t even paint properly when they give me lines to do it inside of.”
Belli sends a look back at him. “Then you get rid of the lines, Ben. Stop limiting yourself. I’m serious, I want you to do it.”
“But I’m not a painter.”
Hawke points at the canvases. “Those say otherwise.”
“They’re just … they’re paint by numbers. I can’t do anything like that myself.”
“I don’t want anything like this,” Belli clarifies. “I want something by you. Something you can do. I’ll pay you a fair price for it.”
“You’re not paying me for it.”
“You said the same about your shifts at the cafe, and how did that work out for you?”
Dad immediately backs off.
“Something small.” Belli goes back to the canvases. “Have a play and see what you come up with.”
“I want one too,” Hawke cuts in. “I have the perfect place at home for it.”
“Now you’re all pulling my leg.”
“I’m not,” Hawke throws back.
And before Dad can argue anymore, I do something that I haven’t in a really long time. “It can’t hurt to try. You might love it, and you might hate it. Just … see what happens.”
He studies me. “You think I should?”
All my worries about him failing and it sending him into a spiral try to stop me from answering. But I need to learn to trust him again. “Yeah. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“Ah … well … okay, then. Two finger paintings coming right up.” He winks at me and goes back to the box he was searching through.
And I have to remind myself that whatever happens in the future doesn’t affect his happiness now.
We’re okay.
Everything is okay.