Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
WYATT
Julian lay in my lap, half asleep in the late midday sun. I was reading some book I had left here on things to do in Silver Creek. We had no TV, and I wouldn’t let him listen to that horrible podcast. They were blaming Julian for being suspended. Not the asshole who had tried to kill Anders.
Anders had texted to let Julian know he had three bruised ribs and was clear of a concussion.
He should be fine in six weeks. Plenty of time for the playoffs.
Julian’s other teammates texted him updates.
But it was hard for him to be away from them.
To not be at the rink. To skate. To be a hockey player.
He was restless and yet always exhausted.
“I don’t think you should sell this place. You could move up here.”
“I thought you were sleeping.” I had let Margo know I was okay, and she let me know Maverick was not. I didn’t care. “It’s a bit of a drive from Vegas, don’t you think?”
Julian looked up at me. His black eye had faded to yellow. I had pulled the last few stitches out. He’d have another scar. “What’s in Vegas?”
I set down the book. “This hot guy I’m dating.”
“What if he gets traded? Or doesn’t? What if his career is over?” He was playing with the silver chain I had given him.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I don’t have any prospects, and this suspension doesn’t help. I’ll be thirty-five this year, and no team is going to want this old man.”
“I want this old man.” Thirty-five wasn’t that old, and yet here we were, both being forced into retirement. “And I doubt you’ll be without a team. You are Julian Silver, number thirty-five.”
He rolled over, tracing a pattern between the three freckles I had on my upper thigh. “No team is going to believe at almost thirty-five I have any game left in me. My knee is shot. And so is my shoulder. And what if I want to be done? What if I want to be Jesse and work on some dude ranch?”
“Is that what you really want?” I wanted him to be Jesse with me. But I also wanted him to be okay with that decision, and I didn’t think he would be. He was Julian Silver.
“I don’t know anymore. This game used to be the only thing I had. And now?” He looked at me. “I have something else.”
“You have me, no matter what. Hockey or no hockey. I’m not going anywhere.
Besides, I hear Toronto wants you. Badly.
Ottawa would love to have you since your dad played there.
” When I went for a run, I listened to the sports podcast. And Matt Rebel was in the minority that thought Julian was done.
In fact, most people in the hockey world believed Vegas was going to have to offer Julian more or they’d lose him.
Julian snorted and lay back down. “Ottawa is the last place I’d go because of him. And they are just rumors. It’s the All-Star break, so they have nothing to talk about.”
“Are you sure? You are one of the highest scoring players in the league. Some say you probably have another three to five years left.”
“No one will want me if I don’t win the cup. And since when do you know so much about my career?”
“If I’m going to be sleeping with the best hockey player in the league, I better know my shit.”
“I’m not the best.” He covered his face with his arm. “That’s Payton.”
How did he not see the numbers? Those were facts. “Wrong. He’s had some really shitty games and fallen way below you in points. And there’s a rumor he sprained his thumb and has been playing injured. I didn’t realize that was a season-ending injury.”
“I didn’t realize you were so into hockey. And we are not talking about me. We are talking about you.”
“There is no me without you.” I lifted his arm. “If you do sign with Toronto, Silver Creek is a long ways away.”
“I’d make it work.”
I knew what he was doing. “Julian. I don’t want to work for Roman. And I’m okay with selling this place.”
“Okay, say we go to Toronto.” He sat up. “What are you going to do?”
I thought about it. How nice it would be to not have to be somewhere.
To not have to be perfect. “Honestly, what I’ve been doing here.
Nothing and fucking you.” I leaned in closer to him, pressing a finger when he opened his mouth to argue.
“And that is what I what to do. I want to be your pretty thing to look at. Pull stitches out of your face. Maybe brush your dentures. And change the tennis balls on your walker.” I leaned in closer, kissing him. “Old man.”
He tackled me on the bed. “I’ll show you what this old man can do.” He settled between my legs.
“Promise?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Do you?” He rested his elbows on either side of me, brushing the hair from my face.
“Do I what? Promise to keep fucking you? Or changing your tennis balls? Yes to both.”
“No, I mean be okay with…”
“Being second to hockey? Yes. I could use a few years off. A lot of years, actually. Are you okay with that? Me sitting around watching daytime TV? Getting my nails done, maybe joining some weird yoga studio with goats and wine? I’m tired of having to shave every day.”
“I’m going to draw the line there. I can’t have my girlfriend growing a better beard than me.”
“Oh yeah? Would that hurt your manhood?” I wrapped my legs around his waist, knowing full well what his manhood was doing.
“My manhood is just fine. Would you really be happy?”
“Yes. I would be more than happy. But there is one thing.” I ran my finger over the chain. “I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”
He groaned and rolled off of me. “I know. I’m trying.
Maybe not hard enough. I keep waiting for her to do something.
She’s supposed to be getting her shit together so she can buy me out of the house.
I don’t think she is,” he said, looking at the ceiling.
“But that isn’t your problem. I’ll have AJ work with my lawyer.
By the end of this season, I will be divorced.
And then…” He rolled over to face me. “I’ll make an honest woman out of you. ”
I laughed. “That will never happen.”
“You don’t want to get married?”
“You do?” I turned to face him. I never thought about marriage. Who would marry me?
“To you, yes. You didn’t really think this was it, did you? You’re not my secret.”
“I know. I didn’t think you’d want to get married again.” This was a weird conversation to be having. We’d been together for four months, and we were talking marriage.
“I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. I should’ve waited for you.”
“If you had I would’ve never met you.” He would have been happy and someone else’s. He’d have a good life. He wouldn’t have needed me.
“I would’ve met you. On Halloween.”
“You want me to believe you’d have no one? Julian Silver would be single? I doubt that.”
“I didn’t date a lot. I know that’s hard to believe, being I’m so charismatic.
I only met Emily because she was a friend of another player’s girlfriend and she pursued me.
I only married her because everyone else was getting married or engaged.
That and I was going to be thirty. I thought she’d be like my mom and get used to my schedule.
My mom never complained. Not when my dad missed her birthday or Beckett’s birth.
I thought that’s what marriage was. One gave and one took. ”
“And now?” I didn’t know how marriage should work. My mother was flighty, and my father was constantly chasing her.
“Now I want you to be happy and know that you are the most important thing in my life. And if that means I retire tomorrow, then I will.”
I cupped his cheek. “And that’s not what will make me happy.”
“Then what will?”
“You being happy. And if that means you play hockey, that means I go where you go.” He opened his mouth to say more. I pressed a finger to his lips. “Anywhere. Now, can we get back to that promise?”
“Which was?”
“You fucking me.” I rolled over onto him.