Chapter 12
My phone vibrated in my pocket sometime later, jerking me awake.
My neck was stiff from falling asleep in the rocking chair, but the room was still dark and quiet, Leena sound asleep in her crib.
I tiptoed out of the room, closing the door silently behind me.
Shannon was in the foyer working on her computer when I walked by. “I’ll take my call in the gym.”
She gave me a thumbs up. “Go. I’ve got her.”
Before I could let myself feel guilty yet again, I went into the gym across from the guest room. I straddled the weight bench, gathering up the courage for what came next.
Call with Dr. Stephens scrolled across my phone screen, showing I had one more minute before our first appointment. Not enough time to find some reason to cancel, but plenty of time for me to dwell on how much I didn’t want to do this.
But I couldn’t lose my job.
Not yet, anyway.
The phone rang right on time, and I put my headphones on to answer.
“Mikko, nice to see you,” Dr. Stephens said, his face filling the screen. “I’m Kevin.”
I expected Dr. Stephens to be wearing glasses, maybe even a cardigan, with gray hair and a judgmental frown.
He’d be in an office full of books, with a couch in the corner and a notepad in hand.
But Kevin looked like he was my age, and he was fit.
No stranger to the gym, like the one I sat in.
His dark brown hair was under a baseball hat, and he was wearing a quarter-zip similar to the ones Frankie wore.
“Same,” I said after Kevin said nothing else. I propped the phone on the weight rack across from me, feeling weird about this whole thing. Why did we have to see each other at all?
“Frankie spoke highly of you when we chatted earlier this week.” He smiled when he said it, but I could only imagine what Frankie had said about me. “How’s your day been so far?”
“Today?” I asked, a little confused what that had to do with anything.
“Sure,” Kevin said. “How’s Leena?”
“Fine.”
“Good. Kids are great.”
“Do you have one?”
He leaned toward the camera, resting his arms on the desk in front of him. “None of my own yet, no. But I’m the middle of five kids, and my two older siblings both have kids. Being an uncle isn’t the same as a father.”
“It’s not,” I agreed.
“What’s she into these days? What’s her favorite food?”
“I don’t understand how that has any relevance to my career.”
Kevin grinned again. “She matters to you, yes?”
“More than anything.”
“And since you answered the phone today, I’m assuming hockey still matters to you too?”
“Of course it does.”
“Then I think it’s relevant. You’re not a robot we can control, telling it exactly what plays to make on the ice. You’re a human with real human emotions who sometimes plays hockey. So what matters to you is relevant in all conversations.”
“That sounds exactly like what a psychologist would say. I’m waiting for you to tell me to lie down now.”
He held his hands up, that grin still there. “You caught me. And you can lie down if you want to, but that’s your preference, not mine.”
“Pasta,” I said after a few beats of silence. “And fruit. She likes pasta and fruit.”
“Excellent choices, if I say so myself. Who doesn’t love pasta?”
I grunted through his next several attempts at small talk, not elaborating on anything he asked. The team mandated that I meet with him to get cleared for a return to the ice. They never said I had to share stuff I didn’t want to.
“Walk me through what happened in Monday’s game. You played for a few minutes in the first period, then a few more in the second before you didn’t return to the ice for the third. Tell me about it.”
I gave him enough details to corroborate any story Frankie had relayed, explaining how I’d lost my concentration on the ice, then went into the locker room between periods.
“You said you felt ‘off.’ Can you describe what felt that way to you?”
I rattled off the symptoms Frankie and I had already discussed: elevated heart rate, sweating, trouble breathing, senses fading out. “I was fine, though.”
Kevin jotted something down on the paper pad in front of him, then looked back up at me. “Frankie said you guys talked to your mom. That you felt better after seeing Leena on the screen?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“I feel better when she’s with me.” It sounded stupid saying it out loud, but this whole thing sounded stupid. “Knowing I’m in control.”
“Explain what it is you like to control.”
“Everything?”
Kevin nodded, then jotted something else down. Part of me wished I was there with him so I could lean over and see what it was I’d said worth noting.
“Talk to me about this summer. About when you found out you had a daughter.”
I frowned. “I went to Helsinki and signed the papers to bring her home with me.”
“Were you surprised to hear about her?”
“Of course I was fucking surprised,” I growled. “You think I would have left her for a year and a half with no father had I known about her? I don’t care what circumstances she and Ava were in, she’s mine and always will be.”
“Did you feel in control of the situation then?”
“Hell no.”
“I bet that was hard.”
Tears pricked my eyes, and what the fuck? I didn’t cry.
“I wasn’t given a choice.” The words came out without my permission. “Not about if I wanted her, because of course I do. But over being in her life. Not until Ava made that choice for me, dropping her off like she didn’t matter.”
“She matters to you.”
“More than anything,” I said again, repeating my earlier sentiment. “More than fucking anything.”
This time when he grinned, it looked a little more like pity. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry you went through this. But I’m glad you have her with you now.”
It was my turn to nod. “Thanks.”
“I heard you got married recently too,” Kevin said, thankfully giving up on discussing Leena before I really did need to lie down. “Shannon, is that right? How is she?”
“Perfect,” I answered before I could think any harder on it.
“That’s great. And she’s agreed to travel with you and Leena, I heard?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “We were going over travel plans this morning, and my girls will join us on the road when I return in a few weeks.”
“A whole family affair. I like it.”
“What? Not going to give me shit that their physical presence is a crutch to get over my crippling anxiety?”
He shook his head. “Not if it helps you, no. Panic attacks are an odd thing. Sometimes we can tell exactly what triggers them, and sometimes it’s not quite that nuanced.
Your anxiety sounds situational to me, and you’re seeking comfort.
Familiarity. You’re asking for the people you love to be with you should you need them, and I think that’s a valid request with everything you’ve been through.
Missing out on so many nights without your daughter when you’ve already missed so many… I get it.”
How the hell did this man see right through me in less than an hour?
He didn’t wait for me to respond, though, instead launching into what he called my “toolkit”—things I could do or think when those symptoms of a panic attack were surfacing again. I didn’t write them down, but I was listening. Absorbing everything he had to say, because it made sense.
“Feelings aren’t facts, Mikko,” he said when our hour was up.
“Remember that, okay? Just because you feel Leena might be in danger if you’re not there—because maybe once upon a time she was and you can’t go back and fix that—doesn’t mean that every time you leave her now she is in danger. Those are not the same thing.”
I wanted to believe him. In some ways, I understood what he meant. But it didn’t take away the fear that my absence—whether or not it was my choice—had allowed some of these things to happen to my daughter.
We hung up a few minutes later, and I sat there feeling like I’d finished a workout in here instead of a damn therapy session.
When I opened the door, Shannon was in the middle of the foyer, pushing a box across the floor. She pointed at the elevator across from her. “It’s beeping. Why is it beeping?”
Before I even made it to her, the doors opened.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the missus,” Logan said as he stepped into the foyer.
The hesitancy on Shannon’s face dropped, recognizing my friend. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the village idiot.”
“I’m touched you remember me. Although not so touched that I forgive you for not inviting me to the wedding.”
“Take that up with him.” Shannon resumed pushing her box of belongings down the hallway toward the guest room. “He was in charge of the guest list.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Logan threw himself onto my couch. “I see the honeymoon is going well. Already moving to the guest room.”
I sat down next to him, hands resting on my knees. “Not like I expect her to stay in my room with me.”
“What a good waste of all that sexual tension.” He kicked the edge of the whiteboard on the coffee table. “Did you find yourself a little nerdette, Meeks?”
“Better a nerd than a dumbass,” Shannon said, walking back into the living room to join us.
I couldn’t fight the smile that spread over my face when she sat on the couch opposite us, pulling her legs up under her and getting comfortable.
“Quit insulting me. I’m falling in love.”
Shannon rolled her eyes, then reached up to adjust the bun on top of her head. “I’m assuming he knows about our situation?”
I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise before Logan said, “That this is temporary and I’ll have a chance with you by next off-season? Yeah, baby.”
“Excellent. I’ll keep you in mind if I suffer a traumatic brain injury between now and then.”
Logan put a hand over his heart. “Oh, that hurts.” He threw a hand out, punching me in the shoulder. “You gonna let her talk to me like that?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Shannon grinned, and I winked back.
“Wow. Okay.” He looked back at Shannon. “You know what? I can forgive you because I like you.”
“That makes one of us,” Shannon said.
I laughed again, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
Logan put his hands behind his head, looking over at me. “So when are you back on the ice? I need my buddy back.”
“Soon. Just had my first psych appointment, and we go from here.”
“And how are you feeling?” Logan said. “Should you lie down on the couch and practice? A little role play? You two could make it sexy, and I could watch.”
I shoved him until he landed on the floor, making Shannon laugh.
“Is he always this insufferable?” Shannon asked.
“Yes,” Logan and I answered in tandem.
“In all seriousness, I’m glad you’re here, Shan,” Logan said. “My boy might be a god among Vikings, but even Thor has an Achilles heel.”
Shannon raised a brow. “That was quite the array of mythology references you had there. Not sure any of them were correct considering Finns aren’t even Vikings, but A for effort I guess.”
“I can be nerdy.” He poked at the whiteboard between us. “Just not this nerdy. I’m a little sad that sexy time isn’t scheduled in here though. Mikko, are you already slacking on your husbandly duties? Because I could step in.”
I launched a pillow at his face while Shannon pulled the neck of her shirt over her mouth, covering a laugh.
“Do not laugh at him.” I pointed a finger at her. “He only gets worse.”
“Noted.”
Logan opened his mouth to say something else, but I put my hand over it to keep whatever idiotic thing he had to say next in there. He kept talking anyway, the sound muffled behind my hand.
“If my wife has any needs, she knows where to find me.”
I hadn’t meant to say it, but the shocked look on Shannon’s face—pupils dilated, mouth open—had me imagining things I had no business picturing for my temporary wife.
This wasn’t about romance, no matter how beautiful she was.
This was a business arrangement, complete with to-do lists and schedules, and we couldn’t go there.
“Damn,” Logan said when I finally pulled my hand away from his face. “This is gonna be fun to watch.”