13. Luke
LUKE
“Dude,” Daire complains, sweat dripping off his face. “I’m tired. Let’s wrap this up.”
I shoot ice at him as I stop. “We’ve only been going at it for an hour.”
“It’s been two and a half,” he counters. “Not even coach lets us go past two hours on the ice.”
“Shit.” I plant my hands on my hips. “All right, let me see if I can make one more shot and then we’ll quit.”
I swear he whimpers in response.
I take off with the puck, and he manages to gather himself enough to charge after me and attempt to steal it.
He makes a swipe for it, but I evade him and make a slapshot straight for the net.
Daire leans over; hands braced on his knees. “My entire body hurts.”
“When did you become so whiny? Don’t tell me you’re going soft this soon.”
He gives me a playful shove. “Not all of us are about to be big time NHL players.”
“I don’t know about big time,” I scoff.
There’s still a large part of me that’s in shock that I’m going to be playing for the NHL.
It was always my dream, but nothing in my life tends to work out in my favor, so I figured that’s all it would ever be.
It’s why I made sure to go to college and wanted to graduate.
There’s nothing wrong with ensuring you have a safety net.
Daire skates over to where we left our drinks and picks up a blue Gatorade, guzzling it down. “You are.” He wipes his mouth on his long-sleeve tee. “I wish you saw how talented you are.”
I hang my head, embarrassment clinging to me.
Daire gives me a nudge. “Be proud of yourself, dude. You’re going to be doing the thing so many guys dream about and never achieve.”
“It’s not that I’m not grateful, I am, but there are plenty of players that are more talented than me.”
He recaps the drink and sets it back. “Dude, just take the fucking compliment.” That manages to pull a laugh out of me. “What’s got you so worked up today, though? I’ve never seen you like that before. You were like a bullet.”
I take off my helmet and run my fingers through my sweat-dampened hair.
It’s been a week since the almost kiss in my truck and I’m still thinking about it like the pathetic fucker I am.
Bertie wanted to kiss me. I saw it on her face.
But for some reason she’s too scared to cross some invisible line with me.
I keep going through the whole thing over and over in my mind, trying to figure out if she wanted me to make the first move, if she’s not interested in me in a serious way and just let her guard down, or even if she’s just scared.
But no matter how many times I relive that moment, I don’t come close to having answers.
I need to do my best to let it go but when you have OCD that’s easier said than done.
Thoughts like to plant themselves in my brain and grow, living there for an indeterminable amount of time, as I replay them and imagine hundreds of different scenarios and possible outcomes in my own mind.
That’s the thing about having OCD—people tend to think that it only manifests in physical things, like excessive cleaning or handwashing, but it also exists inside your own thoughts.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Daire says, and I realize I’ve been standing here in silence for way too long. That’ll yet another thing I’ll inevitably obsess over later.
“It’s Bertie. She just … confuses me,” I say for lack of a better way to explain.
Daire laughs. “She’s a girl. Girls are fucking confusing.”
I shake my head and scoop up my own bottle of Gatorade. After I guzzle down a large portion, I say, “I think she likes me—as more than a friend—but then she does or says thing that I’m not so sure. It’s confusing and I feel like I’m always screwing up.”
“Listen, I don’t know anything about pregnancy, but it sounds like a nightmare between all the hormones and body changes not to mention, she wasn’t planning on getting pregnant and it’s not like you guys were officially together when it happened.
She’s probably just confused and coping with things the best she can.
Give her time, support her, and see where things go. ”
The bottle freezes halfway to my mouth. “When did you become so wise?”
He throws his arms out wide. “I became a dad. It changes you. Just you wait and see, dude.”
“Bertie and I signed up for an infant CPR class this weekend if you want to join. Rosie too. They said they’d also go over how to handle choking.”
His eyes widen. “Fuck, I’m a shitty parent. I didn’t even think about something like that.”
“I’ve been paranoid about it,” I admit. Babies seem so fragile that I want to do everything I can to ensure our baby’s safety.
Reading about SIDS had me hyperventilating the other night.
I was glad Bertie was fast asleep and oblivious to my rising panic.
What do you mean babies can just die for seemingly no explainable reason? That’s horrifying and scary.
“I’ll see if we can get someone to watch Sammy and I’ll let you know.”
We head to the showers and change, going our separate ways in the parking lot. I’m grateful that my former coach is letting me use the ice this summer to practice. The last thing I want to do is not keep up my regimen and be behind when the preseason starts.
When I get home, I shower again and then I find Bertie has come out of my room and is now in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, glowering at the contents.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She closes the door and crosses her arms under her chest as she turns to me. I swear her boobs have gotten bigger. I don’t mean to stare, but the thin white tank top she has on hugs the swells of them.
She snaps her fingers. “Eyes up here, bud.” When I manage to pull my gaze from her chest to her face, I’m relieved to find that she’s smiling. “I’m starving, but all I want is that egg sandwich you made me that one time.”
“I can make you another.”
She bites her bottom lip and drops her eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Are you sure”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll have to run to the grocery store to get what I need. We’re running low on stuff.”
She waves her hands frantically in front of her body. “Oh no. That’s okay. Seriously. I’ll find something else to eat. You don’t need to go buy anything or make it for me. I’m self-sufficient, I promise.”
I shake my head, trying to hide my smile. “It’s not any trouble, I swear.”
Her shoulders droop. “I really do want that sandwich.”
“I won’t be long. You want a Sprite too while I’m out?”
She gets a dreamy look. “I’m pretty sure an Emotional Support Sprite would fix everything right now.”
I grab my wallet and head out to my truck. I don’t quite make it there when I hear feet padding after me.
“Wait, I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. I haven’t left the house today, so it’ll be nice for me.”
I crank up my truck and roll down the windows. There’s a local grocery store only about three miles down the road. It’s small and rundown, but it always has fresh local goods from nearby farms and the best prices around.
Bertie’s hair whips around her shoulders from the wind and she sticks her arm out the window. “I love this truck.”
That was the last thing I expected her to say. “What?” I blurt.
“Yeah.” She plucks a piece of hair away from her lip. “There’s something special about it. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Not that I think Bertie is a spoiled princess, because nine times out of ten she doesn’t act like someone that’s an heiress to a billion dollar chocolate company, but I would definitely think the last thing she’d like is my dingy old truck with the dirty floor mats and seats that are beginning to rip open and lose cushioning.
“You probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
“I was thinking I might have to get rid of it before the baby comes.” Even though it’s paid for, logically I don’t need two vehicles taking up space.
“What?” she practically shrieks. “No.” Tears fill her in eyes. I might be amused at how easily she cries lately if it weren’t for the fact that I’m responsible for the last two times. “You can’t get rid of it, Luke.”
“It’s not practical for the baby. I need something I can put a car seat in and I don’t need two vehicles.”
“No, please get something else and keep this too.”
I pull into the lot and grab the nearest empty spot. “It means that much to you?”
Her cheeks pinken. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll keep it.” It isn’t like I could get much for this old truck anyway.
Hopping out of the truck, I hurry around to her side and open the door for her.
She shakes her head, but I don’t miss her hint of a smile. She can pretend to not like me opening her door all she wants, but I know she secretly likes it.
Grabbing a buggy just inside the door, I head for the produce first. Since I’m here, I might as well grab some other things we need.
Bertie loves fruit so I grab strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries.
Bertie walks beside me her hand absentmindedly resting on the swell of her stomach.
There’s no hiding that she’s pregnant now.
“I’m going to get some salad,” she says, already heading away from me over to the small selection of refrigerators. I trail after her and scoop up a bag of grapes, another of apples, and some bananas.
She adds her salad selection to the cart and we continue.
Soon enough I have the English muffins, eggs, Canadian bacon, and cheddar cheese for her sandwich.
Once everything is bagged up and paid for, I put everything in the bed of my truck. There’s no room for anything in the cab.
When I turn around, I find Bertie still just inside the doors staring at one of those vending machine things that are always filled with cheap bobbles for kids. I wheel the cart inside to put away and she’s still checking it out.
Before I can ask her about it, she says, “Every time I went to the grocery store with my nanny I always begged to stop and get one of these.” She taps the glass.
“She always told me no, I’m sure she knew my parents wouldn’t approve, but one day she caved and let me get something.
It was a small silver ring with a blue and red ying yang symbol on it.
I thought it was the coolest thing ever.
” She gives a laugh lacking humor. “My mom was most unhappy when she finally noticed it, but I didn’t care.
A week or so later it went missing and I was devastated.
I convinced myself I just lost it, but in my heart, I doubt that’s what happened. ”
This girl continues to break my heart.
It’s obvious that what she wants most in this world is for someone to see her. The real her. To love her wholeheartedly with no strings attached. I know I’m that guy, but she hasn’t realized it yet. One day, though, she’s going to see I’m not just here because of the baby.
Digging in my pocket I pull out enough change for the vending machine.
“Luke, no.” She tries to make a grab for my wrist, but she’s too late, I’m already twisting the nob and my change disappears.
Out pops one of the plastic balls and I hand it to her.
I make a vow then that every fucking time I see one of these things to get one for her.
She stares down at the plastic ball with childlike wonder.
She pops the lid off and out pops a plastic gold ring with a bedazzled pink heart, but the way she looks at it I’d think I’d spent thousands on it.
She slides it onto her pinky, the only finger it will fit on, and extends her hand so she can check it out fully.
Her smile spreads fully as she takes it in.
Best seventy-five cents I’ve ever spent.
I want to wrap my arms around her and give her a hug. I want to tell her she’s worthy of every good thing in the world even if it’s only a cheap plastic ring that she wants. But something tells me if I do, she’ll start crying again and I really don’t want to make her cry again today.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, as close to a hug as I’ll allow myself. “Come on, B. Let’s get you home and I’ll make your sandwich.”
She lets me guide her to the truck and open her door, but the whole time she keeps stealing glances at the ring.