42. Kellerman
“Stephen, how is Alex doing? What can you tell us about his recovery?”
My heart beats a little faster with each question, waiting for the inevitable. The press conference is live, and I just know reporters are going to hammer Stephen with questions about me.
Stephen must know it too, because despite how good he looks in his gray suit and crisp white shirt—his blue tie making his eyes pop even more than they already do—he looks uncharacteristically nervous. His jaw is tight, and he’s sitting up straight in his chair instead of leaning back in his usual relaxed stance. Gone is the happy-go-lucky man who always cracks jokes in the conference room. He’s all business today.
“Alex is doing well. The doctors want him to take it slow, but he’s itching to get back out on the ice.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “You know how stubborn us athletes can be.”
Another reporter asks, “How long until we see him play again?”
Jesus. It’s only been a couple of weeks since he woke up. These people are like vultures.
“Let’s leave that up to the doctors,” Stephen says. “Alex is making progress, so that’s all that matters.”
A reporter near the front raises his finger for the next question. “People have concerns about the brutal hit that caused Alex’s injury. What are your thoughts on Kellerman not being held responsible for his actions?”
My fingers tighten around the remote, and I hold my breath as I brace myself for Stephen’s response.
Here we fucking go.
Stephen clears his throat. “The league has fined and suspended Ivanov for what he did. He has a history of excessive violent plays, so hopefully his team can get a handle on him before he hurts anyone else.”
Great answer. He must’ve rehearsed this, anticipating questions about me.
But the reporter doesn’t let it go. “My question wasn’t about Ivanov.” He pauses, and I don’t miss the twitch in Stephen’s left eye as the camera stays steady on him. “Many of us are wondering why your boyfriend didn’t get the same punishment since he was involved in the play that put your captain in the hospital.”
Fuck, this guy’s a dick.
Stephen’s voice is steady, despite the undercurrent of anger I pick up on. “My boyfriend didn’t blatantly slam into Alexander head-on, and knock him onto the ice. He and Alex were both busy scrambling for the puck when Ivanov initiated contact. The correct player was reprimanded, and I don’t think there needs to be any more speculation on the matter.”
The reporter tries to speak again, but Stephen cuts him right off, leaning forward on his elbows. “I don’t appreciate the way the media has been trying to pit us against each other. The focus should be on Alexander and his recovery, not on my relationship. And let me make this clear: Chance would never purposely cause harm to someone. He loves this game more than anyone else I know—and I know a lot of hockey players who bleed hockey. So, if you’re not going to treat him with respect, then keep his name out of your mouth and off your pages.”
My throat tightens with emotion, and I blink to clear my vision. Stephen didn’t have to say a word. He could’ve changed the subject, or made some generic statement. Yet he not only defended me and made it clear to everyone that he doesn’t blame me for Alexander’s injury, but he made it clear to me . He proved what he said during his apology the other night, and made sure I know where he stands.
With me.
I lift my phone from the armrest of the couch, and type out a text.
Me
I love you, baby.
Me
I’m going to show you just how much later.
“Do I look okay?”
“You look more than okay, pretty girl.” Stephen shoots her a wink as we step onto the porch of his parents’ house. “Don’t be nervous. Everyone’s going to love you.”
Presley slips her hand into mine and gives it a squeeze. “They’re going to love you too, baby.”
“Should I call them Mr. and Mrs. McKinley, or should I use their first names?” Alyssa practically bounces beside us. “Or do I just call them grandma and grandpa?”
Avery rolls his eyes, and I chuckle. “You should always start with Mr. and Mrs. out of respect. If they want you to call them something else, they’ll let you know.”
She nods. “Be respectful. Got it.”
Stephen swings open the door, and we are met with noise.
So. Much. Noise.
Dishes clanking, TV blaring, people yelling. The house is alive. Vibrant. Chaotic.
A giant Labrador slides across the wood floors as it bounds toward us, and I breathe a slight sigh of relief.
Thank God there’s a dog. If all else fails, I can disappear into another room with it.
Presley’s eyes narrow as she glances up at me. “Don’t you dare leave me for that dog. We are in this together, bucko.”
I hold up my palms on either side of my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. I see that sketchy look in your eyes. I know what you’re thinking.”
I can’t help but laugh. She knows me too well.
Alyssa squeals as the dog jumps up and licks her face.
“They’re here!” A woman’s voice screeches as she appears in one of the doorways. “Oh, my God. Chewbarka! Get down. No jumping.”
Avery and I exchange glances. “Chewbarka?” he mouths.
Stephen undoubtedly named this poor dog. I’d bet my entire salary on it.
The short, blonde-haired woman shoves Stephen out of the way as he tries to hug her, and she throws her arms around Presley, engulfing her in a bear hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Presley. I’m Stephen’s mother. You can call me Patty.” She pulls back and widens her eyes. “Or just skip all the pleasantries and call me Mom.”
Stephen barks out a laugh. “Dad, come and get your wife. She’s being weird.”
“Already?” A tall man with copper-colored curls just like Stephen’s enters the room. “Patty, we talked about this.”
Patty pays them no mind as she turns her attention to me. “Hi, my handsome boy. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
I hold out my hand to shake hers, but she smashes into me like a linebacker and wraps her arms around my waist.
My nerves simmer, and I hug Stephen’s mother with as much force as she’s giving me. I haven’t hugged my own mother since the day she died, and the memory of the way it felt has faded with time.
Patty steps back and holds my shoulders at arm’s length. “I’m so happy you’re here. We’ve been rooting for you.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m happy to be here too.”
She turns to the kids, and makes a fuss over them. She’s elated to have Alyssa call her grandma, of course, and she gets a smile out of Avery—though I’m sure it’s more because he’s laughing at her antics.
Stephen’s father shakes my hand after introducing himself to Presley. Patrick seems laid-back and calm, a stark contrast to his energetic wife. I can see so much of Stephen in his parents, and it’s obvious where he gets his personable nature from. They’re warm and inviting, leaving no room for my insecurities.
“Come, come. Take a seat anywhere at the table.” Patty waves her arm around the dining room. “I hope you all brought your appetites.”
I hang back, letting everyone else pick their seats. It’s a habit, since I got punched in the face after taking my father’s seat at the table when I was eight.
Patrick claps me on the shoulder, and gestures to an empty seat. “Come sit next to me. We can talk hockey.”
Relief floods me. I like this guy.
I tug on Avery’s sleeve and guide him to my left. Knowing how awkward he feels, I want to keep him close to me.
Two women enter the room, carrying bowls of mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables to the table. Stephen introduces them as his sisters, and soon everyone’s sitting at the long table digging into a delicious meal.
I’ve never had a big family dinner like this. The closest I’ve gotten to it has been dinners with my team and their families over the last few years, but that didn’t feel like mine .
Between Stephen, Presley, and the kids, I’ve found this sense of belonging. And something tells me Patty and Patrick are going to become part of that too, that they’ll treat me and Presley like their own.
It doesn’t scare me anymore. Not like it used to. It’s been a journey for me, learning how to accept love...but I refuse to let my father and my past dictate my future. He doesn’t get to ruin the relationships I have with the important people in my life. He doesn’t deserve that satisfaction, and neither do I.
Like Stephen once said: My father isn’t worth it, but I am.
As dinner winds down, each of us beyond stuffed from Patty’s amazing cooking, she pushes her chair back from the table. “Alyssa and Avery, I have a little something for you guys.”
Kathy and Chelsea groan, while Stephen scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize for what’s about to happen,” he says.
Patty returns from the hall with two blankets in her arms. “I like to crochet in my spare time, and it’s tradition that I make a blanket for each of my grandchildren.” She holds up each of them respectively, beaming with pride. “I hope you like them.”
Alyssa snatches it from her hands, excitement all over her face as she wraps the orange blanket around herself. “I love it! And it’s my favorite color.”
Patty smiles. “Stephen said that was your favorite. Good thing too, because I would’ve gone with pink.”
Alyssa scrunches her nose. “Eww, no way.”
Avery takes the blanket from Patty, black with gray stripes. “Thank you. This is very kind of you.”
“You’re so welcome, sweet boy.”
Kathy leans back against her chair, wearing a mischievous smirk that I’ve seen one too many times on her brother. “Did you make one for Presley?”
Patty rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t start this now.”
Chelsea chuckles. “She definitely did. I’d bet a hundred bucks that there’s a blanket in that spare room of hers.”
Stephen whips out his wallet, and tosses a hundred-dollar-bill onto the table. “There’s no way she made one for us already.”
Kathy bolts into another room. “Let me get my purse.”
Patty crosses her arms over her chest. “You people are being ridiculous.”
Presley rubs circles on her back. “It’s okay. Don’t listen to them. You’re just full of love and excitement, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” She turns to glare at Stephen. “You’re a lot like your mother, you know, so I don’t think you have a leg to stand on here.”
I snort-laugh, and Stephen shoots me a glare.
Patrick leans in and whispers, “He’s totally like his mother.”
I nod. “I made that observation the second I walked in the door.”
Kathy returns with a stack of twenties, and tosses them onto the table in front of her. “I’m with Chelsea, and I’m adding in an extra fifty to bet that it’s a yellow blanket.”
Patty’s eyes widen. “Did you go in there?”
“Aha!” Chelsea jumps up. “You did make a blanket. God, you’re weird.”
Stephen’s head whips to his mother. “Are you kidding me? Already?”
“Sue me, okay? My baby boy is finally happy, and I’m excited.” Patty dabs at the corners of her eyes. “Oh, I’m just so glad you’re all here.”
Presley flicks her eyes to me. “We’re happy to be here, Patty. This is exactly where we’re meant to be.”
I grin as I turn to Stephen. “Some would say we’re written in the stars.”
The corner of his mouth curves up. “Yeah, I think we are.”
THE END