Chapter 38
GARRETT
I was holding Asher when Chris called his mom to tell her. I got to hear her cry of joy, and I watched her face light up on the screen as she saw him on camera for the first time.
Chris, of course, called his siblings as well. I talked to both Nick and Katie, and I stayed quiet and out of the frame while Chris talked to Ally. Hearing her voice on the speaker made my throat tight; that was the most bittersweet part of this whole thing.
We’ll get there, I reassured myself, but it won’t be today. Today is about Chris and his family. Not me and Ally.
It still hurt, though. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t.
And there was also a layer of guilt when I got a couple of texts from Liam. He texted Chris as well, and I felt guilty for not telling my son I was exchanging messages with his teammate.
Liam
Congrats! Feel weird to be a grandfather?
A bit, yeah. But I love it so far!
That’s awesome.
It is. Kind of overwhelming, but all in good ways.
Any chance you want to FaceTime later?
I always do. I’ll be at the hotel in a couple of hours. Ping you then?
Sounds good.
He didn’t reply after that, which was fine. I’d quickly learned that road trips were relentlessly busy. Between flying, practicing, team meetings, playing, and eating, he didn’t have a ton of downtime. Some of that downtime was spent socializing with his teammates, which I totally understood.
But he texted whenever he could—usually on the bus or plane—and we FaceTimed when he was in his rooms. It sucked being away from him, but we managed.
And missing him now felt strange for all the reasons I’d long ago figured out. No shit, it felt weird to be missing my boyfriend while I was with my son, who didn’t know about said boyfriend.
We need to tell him.
Either man up and tell him, or man up and end things.
Keeping it a secret is just going to blow up in my face.
Yes. That was true. I needed to talk to Liam and figure out what our next move should be, and then—
“Dad?”
I shook myself and looked up at Chris. “Hmm?”
He gestured toward the hospital room door. “Do you mind giving me a hand taking stuff down to the car?”
“Down to the—oh. Right.” I pushed myself up. “Are they discharging her already?”
“No, no, not until tomorrow. But it’ll be easier to take all this”—he pointed at the mountain of gifts people had sent—“now instead of waiting.”
“Good idea. Lead the way.”
We collected the balloons, bouquets, and everything else friends, family, and the Pittsburgh Phantoms had sent.
We also collected anything Jasmine and the baby wouldn’t need between now and when she was discharged, and we headed down to the parking garage.
When they were discharged tomorrow, all they’d have to wrangle was the suitcase and car seat.
After we’d loaded them into the car, we started back toward the elevator, but Chris halted. “Before we go back…” He chewed his lip.
I watched him, not sure where this was going. Given our tense conversations over the past few years, I was instantly nervous even though he wasn’t giving off any signals that I should be. Habit, I guess.
“I just wanted to say thanks.” He exhaled hard. “For calming me down before I got to her room. I was so panicked about getting here, I…”
“I know. That was, um, something I learned the hard way.”
His eyebrows shot up.
I rolled my shoulders. “I wasn’t the best partner for your mom when Nick and Ally were born. I thought I was being attentive and focused, but I didn’t realize I was just making her panic. She needed to lean on me. I needed to support her. But…” I shook my head.
“So, you freaking out made her freak out?”
Grimacing, I nodded. “Not my finest hour. And I know you didn’t want to be waylaid after you just flew in to be with Jasmine, but I—”
“I get it,” he whispered. “I didn’t in the moment, but when I saw her and she fell apart…
” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
“I knew you were right. And, um… I’m also really glad we fixed things.
” He met my gaze, clearly fighting back his emotions.
“No matter what happened in the past, I’m glad…
” He hesitated, as if he didn’t quite know how to say what he was thinking, or he was afraid he’d start crying.
Maybe both. Finally, he whispered, “I wouldn’t have wanted you to miss this, and I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it with my dad. ”
Now I was the one on the verge of breaking down, and I didn’t trust my voice, so I just reeled my son into a fierce hug. Squeezing my eyes shut, I held him tight and his words settled in.
“I’m glad we fixed things, too,” I managed to say. “I got to see my son become a dad.”
My own words hit me harder than I expected. I didn’t fall apart, but as I let Chris go, there was no pretending I hadn’t teared up. Or that he hadn’t.
We both quietly wiped our eyes, and neither of us said anything more.
I supposed nothing else needed to be said.
Especially not when we were both threadbare from a long night with no sleep, and both overwhelmed with a lot of emotion.
We’d said what needed to be said—the best thing was to just leave it.
On the way back upstairs, it occurred to me that maybe the silver lining to me learning so many things the hard way was that I could pass that wisdom on to my kids.
Last night, my son had been a far better partner during the birth of his child than I’d been.
As much as I would’ve given anything to go back and fix the fuckups of my past, that particular set of mistakes was easier to swallow now.
On the other side of that coin, though, was a fresh dose of guilt.
Sooner or later, I was either going to have to come clean to Chris or quietly let go of Liam.
If I wanted this newfound peace with my son to last…
If I wanted to have a role in my new grandson’s life…
I had a choice to make.
The day after Asher was born, shortly after we’d taken him and Jasmine home, Chris was on his way to the airport.
Though he was still so exhausted he could barely stand, he was headed to Salt Lake City to rejoin is team for tomorrow’s game.
I had no idea how he was going to function, but duty called.
He kissed Jasmine and Asher, hugged me, and was out the door.
This sport waited for no one.
He’s really going to play tomorrow? Already?
Liam
Yeah the dads usually don’t miss many games unless there’s complications.
Wow. I mean I get it wasn’t taxing on him physically. But still. It was a lot. Plus being away from Jasmine and the baby so soon… (grimace emoji)
I know. (sad face) It’s always hard on the new dads.
On the bright side, new dad luck is a thing.
Oh yeah?
Yep. Don’t know why, but new dads always score like crazy.
lol wow. Hockey is weird.
Are you just now figuring this out?
No, but year after year, I learn just how weird it is.
Give it time. It’ll get weirder.
I’m sure it will lol
Anyway, keep an eye on Chris. He was barely awake enough to make it through the airport this morning, and I know he’s stressed being away from Jasmine and Asher.
We’ve got him. Don’t worry.
What about you? How are you doing?
Still tired, still kind of overwhelmed. But good. Holding my grandson for the first time was an amazing experience.
I bet it was. He’s cute!
Right? A nurse tried to tell Jasmine he looks just like his dad. She looked right at him and said he’s five minutes old—he looks like a potato.
LMAO I mean they kinda do at that stage
They really, really do.
Eh, they’re cute. Anyway, we’ll take care of Chris. He’ll probably have a killer game.
He wasn’t wrong—in Chris’s first game after becoming a father, he scored his first career hat trick.
New dad luck really was something else. As was my son. I couldn’t have been prouder of him as both a dad and a hockey player.
But of course, I still had guilt chasing me around, and it hadn’t let up over the past couple of days. If anything, it was worse now.
I wanted to maintain this close relationship Chris and I finally had, and that meant I needed to be honest with him about things. I needed to tell him about Liam and let those chips fell where they would. I wasn’t so sure I could wait until the end of the season after all.
Let him get back to town. Let him catch his breath a little.
And then…
I’m going to come clean.
“The Pittsburgh goal”—the announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium—“scored by number sixteen, Liam. Saint. Clair!”
The hometown crowd roared and I cheered right along with them as Liam skated toward the bench for fist bumps.
“Assisted by number seventy-four, Tee-moo Tehuitzil!”
Thanks to that utterly greasy goal by Liam and Temo, Pittsburgh had finally pushed past Montreal. They’d started out with a disastrous first period that ended with them down 3-0. In the next, though, they’d rallied, going into the second intermission 4-3. Still down, but only by a single goal.
And in the third, Vinnie, the backup goalie, was a brick wall.
The fourth line had managed to tie the score.
Then a frustrated Montreal forward had gone to the box for interference, and Pittsburgh had capitalized on that power play—fifteen seconds in, Liam gave the Phantoms their first lead of the night.
All they had to do now was hold that lead for the next six minutes. Ideally, widen the lead, but holding it would be just fine.
They had a few close calls. Liam took a hooking penalty, and Montreal finally had a chance to trot out their power play, which was fifth in the entire League.
Then, twenty seconds in, disaster struck—Craws took a tripping penalty.
A bullshit one that had the hometown crowd booing so loud it shook the fillings in my teeth, but a penalty nonetheless.
Now Montreal had a five-on-three man advantage, and everyone in the stadium was on the edge of our seats as they cycled, cycled, cycled, closing in on the exhausted penalty killers.
Sometimes the hockey gods had a cruel sense of humor. But sometimes…
Sometimes they came through.
A Montreal forward was in the perfect position to shoot… but his stick snapped in two.
Driscoll was on the puck like a cat on a laser pointer, and before the power play knew what was happening, he darted past a defenseman, skating out of the man’s long reach.
The goalie was poised and ready, and I could only imagine what was going through the young defenseman’s head in that moment.
Whatever it was, it worked out—a second later, he had his first goal of the season.
A shorthanded goal, to boot. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a player more ecstatic than he was in that moment, shouting as he banged himself off the glass behind the net.
It was also redemption—Drizz had made a disastrous turnover in the second period, which had led to a goal against. Perfect night to finally tally himself a goal.
Montreal still had the man advantage, though. They brought out their second power play unit, and Pittsburgh sent out three fresh penalty killers.
Thirteen seconds after the puck dropped, Montreal answered Drizz’s shorty with a power play goal. Liam came out of the box, but Craws still had forty seconds left, and Montreal capitalized. Now the score was 5-5 with thirteen minutes left to play.
Twelve minutes later…
“One minute remaining in the period,” the announcer said. “One minute remaining.”
“Oh God,” Ximena peered through her fingers at the action below. “They’re going into overtime, aren’t they?”
“Better than a loss,” Hannah said.
“For them, maybe.” Ximena fidgeted in her seat. “I don’t know if my heart can take it.”
Hannah murmured in agreement.
I concurred; overtime was exciting as hell, but I was pretty sure Pittsburgh Phantoms three-on-three bonus hockey was singlehandedly keeping several cardiologists in business.
The buzzer sounded. Yep—overtime.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it. The rest of the world could wait until this game ended.
Overtime was wild. Neither team was ready to lose this game, and they were up and down the ice, back and forth, vying for possession and trying to get a puck past a netminder. Both goalies were dialed in, making highlight reel saves one after the other.
After an intense shift, Liam and Temo peeled away. Chris and Craws came out, and Drizz sent the puck to Chris, who sprinted into the offensive zone. He fired on goal in what absolutely should’ve gone in—we were all on our feet, sure he’d just scored—but Montreal’s snatched the puck out of the air.
“Motherfucker,” I said breathlessly.
“That asshole,” Ximena growled.
There was an offensive zone faceoff, which Chris won. He passed to Drizz, who immediately passed to Craws. Craws circled like he was heading for the neutral zone, but then spun around and hauled ass toward the net.
A split second later, his top shelf shot sailed right past the goalie’s ear.
The crowd went nuts.
What a game. Wow. Overtime was stressful as hell, but man, what a rush when they won.
As always, I lingered in the box for a while, chatting with some of the spouses.
There was always a bit of a lull between the end of the game and when we entered the locker room—had to let the guys do their media availability and get cleaned up, after all.
No point in rushing down there, no matter how much I wanted to congratulate Chris and Liam on a hard-earned comeback win.
Eventually, people started filtering out of the box to make their way downstairs.
I still hung back since there was no point in rushing out.
Liam nearly always ended up doing multiple interviews, and Chris was starting to do more and more media availability as he powered through his incredible rookie season.
As I waited for the right time to meander down, my phone vibrated again. Oh, right, someone had pinged me earlier, hadn’t they? I’d been so caught up in the excitement, I’d forgotten to look. Without thinking much of it, I pulled it out to check the screen.
Nick
I just saw the article! That’s so awesome! Why didn’t you tell us?
Article? Tell him? Tell him what?
But then ice started crackling through my veins.
He didn’t mean…
No. I was jumping the gun. Paranoia, guilty conscience, etc.
Article?
Yeah. Didn’t you see it?
A second later, he sent me a link.
As soon as the headline appeared along with a thumbnail preview, my heart dropped.
And I hurried out of the suite because I needed to get down to the locker room right the fuck now.