Chapter 13
TYLER
The hockey bag that Denny has over his shoulder is about as big as he is.
We agreed that he’d go back to hockey, and I’d stay with Ty.
After a discussion with his coach, they decided on part time.
He’d join the team for practice and home games but would stay home for a while when the team was on away games.
They understood the circumstances of this situation.
When you have no family, and suddenly you’re a single parent to a newborn, concessions have to be made.
It warmed me to Winnipeg even more because they were being so accommodating and understanding.
I’m not sure all teams would respond in the same way.
Ty and I had joined Denny in his home gym in the basement over the last few days in preparation for him getting ready to return to hockey.
There’s no beating around the bush. Watching this big man with really sexy muscles work out is a wet dream of the wettest kind.
Nearly the entire time I sat there, I was thinking, Jesus fuck, Sally. How were you not all over this man?
Denny turns to me, beanie low over his ears and a Winnipeg Avalanche jacket on. He just screams hockey player. It’s likely the hockey stick in his hand, and that’s not an innuendo.
“You going to be okay for a few hours?” he asks for maybe the 974th time.
I grin. “Yes. We will be fine. I promise.”
He nods. “Call me if you need… anything.”
“You’re going to have your phone on you, eh?”
“No, but I’ll leave it at the bench so I can hear it.”
“You think he’s going to crawl away on me?”
Denny inclines his head, fighting a smile.
I honestly can’t imagine him not being a parent.
Yes, he’s tired and gets frustrated when he can’t immediately figure out what Ty needs, but he’s so ridiculously attentive.
The way he looks at Ty melts my heart. His worry about Ty is very indicative of a good parent.
“I promise, Denny. Everything will be fine. I’ll stay in the same room as Ty the entire time you’re gone. Okay?”
Denny sighs. “Sorry. Thank you.” He meets my eyes, and my heart flutters. Maybe my balls flutter too. “I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“And I’ll call if anything happens.”
A smile tugs at his lips, and he turns for the door. “Lock it behind me,” he says.
I watch as he maneuvers through it with the giant bag. It closes and then immediately opens. I’m about to reassure him again when he reaches for me. The tug on my arm is so unexpected that I practically land against his chest. I don’t manage a laugh before his mouth is over mine, and I simply melt.
It’s a lingering, sweet kiss. Nothing hot or heavy. Just a… kiss that makes my heart race.
Denny releases me, allowing me to ground myself, his eyes staring into mine. “See you in a bit,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against my cheek.
This time when he leaves, my heart is fucking thundering. I do as he instructed and lock the door before heading to the dining room, where I can watch him pull out of the driveway. The garage door closes as he drives down the road.
I place my hand over my chest and take a breath.
Would you be upset with me? I silently ask my sister as I head back to the living room, where Ty is asleep in his cradle.
For several minutes, I watch him sleep, paying attention to his chest to make sure he’s breathing.
His eyelids flutter, and his lips move a little.
“You made such a perfect little person, Sally,” I whisper.
It’s been several days since I’ve allowed myself to think about my sister not being here. Sometimes, it’s easier to get through the days pretending she’s just not in the house. Maybe she’s at work. She’s at a conference and can’t come home every night.
As soon as I let myself remember that she’s never coming home, emotion floods my chest, and it becomes tight. Tears sting my eyes. I’m never not going to cry when I think about my sister.
Sniffling, I turn for the bedroom I share with Ty’s things. Denny gave me Sally’s suitcase from the hospital, but I haven’t opened it yet. Not even to find her phone. I’d stuffed it in the closet so I didn’t have to see it all the time and remember.
But now that I’m alone with my emotions, I drag it out into the living room and set it on the couch. It feels heavy. Not in weight but in… memory? These are the last things she touched. The last clothes she wore. Her phone is in here.
Taking a deep breath, I unzip the top and push it open. Everything is neat except the bunched-up robe, phone, and cords sitting on top. The things that Sally had out when she died. I wonder if the nurse put them in here or if Denny did.
With shaking hands, I pull the phone and charging cords out before closing it quickly. Before I zip it up, I think that maybe I need her robe too. Not for me. For Ty. Is it too much? Did she actually die in it?
Chewing the inside of my lip, I decide that maybe I won’t take the robe out. Next time we go to Sally’s, I’ll bring back the pillowcase from her bed. The one she last laid her head on. That’ll be for Ty.
Through tears that I can’t make stop, I close the suitcase up again and bring it back into my closet. Yeah, that’s too much.
Thinking of going back to Sally’s reminds me that I need to get her life in order. I need the paperwork for her house. I need to… to what? Is there some magic list of things I need to do when someone dies?
A funeral. Obviously that. A tombstone. Where does she even want to be buried?
I plug the charger into the wall and then into the phone. It’s dead. Unsurprisingly. I should have plugged it in weeks ago. As the phone lights up with the dead battery signal and a little lightning bolt telling me it’s charging, I set it on the table and turn to look at Ty.
Sally and I talked about everything, but we never talked about death.
I can’t even remember a time when we jokingly said something like, ‘I want to be buried there or that’s the kind of tombstone I want,’ or even ‘I want to be buried in a pyramid with labyrinths so no one can find me when they break into my grave for my riches.’
The thoughts make me smile. We should have talked about it, but who talks about their death in their twenties? Unless you’re sick, you assume you’re going to live for another sixty years. Death is a morbid conversation at that stage in your life.
I stand over Ty again. I’m not sure if I’m taking up Denny’s obsession with Ty breathing in his absence, or I just want to look at him. Does he look like Sally? I hope he grows up to look like Sally.
The doorbell makes me jump. Ty whimpers, wiggles. I rub his stomach for a second, saying, “Shhh,” until he settles a second later and then hurry to the door so they don’t ring the doorbell again.
I recognize the man at the door. He’s been here before.
Denny’s friend, Carson. Another really good-looking man with a stunning bronze complexion that I’m jealous of, beautiful brown eyes, and longer hair that either naturally lightens into sun-kissed brown at the ends or is growing out of a dye job.
“Hi,” Carson says, smiling. A big smile. It’s pretty. “Tyler, right?”
I nearly laugh. I share my name with Denny’s kid. “Yes,” I answer.
“I feel like I’m a neighbor asking my friend to come out and play, but is Denny home?”
Okay, this time I laugh. “No. He’s at hockey.”
“Yeah? Good.”
I nod, and silence settles between us as we look at each other. I feel like a gatekeeper right now. Not letting him pass the threshold.
“Sorry. I’m Carson.” He offers me his hand.
Amused, I shake it. “Hi.”
“So, you’re babysitting the baby?”
“No. I’m spending time with my nephew while Denny is at work,” I correct.
He grins. “Cool.”
“I’d invite you in, but Denny was bordering on panicky when he left, so I don’t think I should let anyone in while he’s not here.”
“No, understood,” he says, his smile not falling. “It’s good to see that he’s bonding with his kid.”
I remember what Denny told me recently about his meltdown while he was with his friends. The conversations they shared. I’m guessing Carson was among the friends he referenced.
“Me too.”
“Tell him I stopped by. I’ll check in with him later.”
“Sure.”
“Bye, Tyler,” he says, smile widening as he backs toward the stairs.
I raise my hand and watch him as he turns and jogs to his truck.
Stepping back inside, I lock the door again.
Do his friends drop in often? I think about the times I’ve seen them, and though they haven’t been here often, they’re here regularly enough to make sure he has food and clean clothes.
They’ve been here fewer times as the weeks pass since my arrival.
They don’t stay long. I don’t think they want to intrude, but they also want to make sure that Denny has what he needs. They’re looking out for their friend.
As I check on Ty before making my way to the kitchen, I muse that I never bothered to make friends like that. I’ve been in Winnipeg for three weeks now, and I haven’t heard from anyone I left behind. Not Jesse. Not my coworkers. Not the few people that I’d hung out with on occasion. No one.
Sally was the only friend I ever made an effort for. How sad is that? If I hadn’t forced myself into Denny’s life with my nephew, I’d be literally all alone right now because I’d made my sister my only friend.
On the other hand, there aren’t many people I’ve met over the years who have had the kind of relationship with their siblings as I had with mine.
They might claim that they’re friends, but it was clear that we use that term differently.
They reserved their sibling friendship as familial and separate. That wasn’t the case for me.
I go about making up a bottle for Ty. It’s a little early, but by the time it’s finished, it’ll be feeding time. He’s been pretty good about a schedule. He tends to get fussy right around three hours.
While it’s heating in the dedicated bottle warmer contraption, I go to the bedroom and pull out a clean diaper and a spit rag. The diaper is for after feeding. The spit rag is for now. Is he old enough for a bib yet? Nah. He’s not that drooly when he drinks.
On the way by Ty again, I rest my hand gently on his back, just to feel his breath and heartbeat. Then I head for the bottle again. I like this thing because it automatically turns itself off when it reaches temp. There’s no chance of boiling the milk or melting the bottle.
With the cover back on, I wash my hands and return to Ty, swirling the bottle as I go.
There’s a difference between shaken and swirled, apparently.
He’s still asleep. I flick the television on.
Sports Spot comes on since that was the last thing we were watching.
I’d be surprised if the TV is on anything other than Sports Spot.
It would probably short-circuit if I changed the channel.
It’s early in the afternoon, so there isn’t a hockey game on.
That doesn’t stop them from talking about hockey.
To be fair, they also alternate between hockey and football.
The Super Bowl was last week in California between LA and Cincinnati.
LA won 23-20. We didn’t watch it, but we did keep up with the highlights.
Apparently, there are still things to say about it a week later. Highlights. Predictions about the upcoming draft.
I lazily wonder what it’s like to make sports your entire life. It feels kind of boring. Then again, they get paid to talk about sports all day. That’s not exactly a difficult life.
Ty fussing makes me turn my attention away from the TV. I knew he’d wake up when it was feeding time. We’re training him well. He needs to eat often. He met all his goals at his first appointment, and I hope he’ll meet them at his appointment in two days. That means he needs to eat and grow.
“Come on, sweetie,” I coo as I carefully pick him up. He’s immediately rooting for a nipple. “Hold on. Patience, Ty. A little boy who knows what he wants, eh?”
I continue to talk to him as I bring the pillow onto my lap and get him situated to feed him.
Denny and I have been doing research into the optimal angles for babies to feed in to minimize spitting up, and we think we have an idea.
So far, it has been an improvement. Ty still burps, but now they’re a little wet.
He’s not spitting out half his bottle because he drank air.
While he drinks, I gently run my hand over his head. His hair is so soft. What would Sally be talking to you about? I wonder. “What kinds of things should I tell you about Mommy first? She was kind and beautiful with the biggest smile. She was so excited to be your mommy.”
My voice cracks, and I blink rapidly to disperse the tears. Okay, I’m not ready for that. I have a lot of time before he’s old enough to begin remembering what I tell him, so I can work up to it.
When he’s finished his three ounces, I sit him up with his little face cradled in my hand and pat his back. He burps twice. They’re loud enough that I laugh. But I’m also pleased that they’re just a little wet. A bit of milky drool. Maybe we’ve unlocked the secret to keeping Ty’s tummy full.
I bring him to the bedroom to change his diaper and roll him into a burrito again. Even though I should let him sleep in his cradle or bassinet, I keep him in my arms and rock him for a while as we watch Sports Spot.
Just as I’m about to lay him down, the doorbell rings again. With Ty in my arms, I answer the door. There’s a woman standing there. One I don’t recognize. She frowns when she sees me, and her eyes drop to Ty. My hackles immediately rise.
“Who are you?” she demands.
“Who are you?” I counter.
“I’m glad to see Denny got some help, but you? Were there no women nannies available?”
I’m about to answer when she shoves her way past me and practically rips Ty from my arms. I’m so startled and a whole lot concerned about the way she handles him that I release him. He’s already crying. Maybe the way she pulled him from me. Maybe because she hurt him.
“You can leave now,” she says. “I’ll stay until my son gets home.”
My heart races as I watch her move into the kitchen.
“He just ate,” I tell her as she takes a bottle from the fridge.
“Don’t talk to me like you know my grandson better than I do. I’m a mother. I know what he needs. You can leave.”
I grab my phone from the living room and call Denny. It rings and rings and rings and goes to voicemail. “No,” I hiss. So I call again. I keep calling until he answers the phone.