25
Conor
My mind is so quiet. It has been for an entire week now. I didn’t think that was possible.
When Sasha is in my arms, which lately, has been more often than not, all I can think about is her.
When she’s not in my arms, thoughts of her consume me.
Her smile, her laugh, the way she scrunches her nose up when she’s concentrating.
How she somehow manages to make everything around her seem lighter.
I’ve spent my whole life chasing the silence, trying to outrun the constant noise in my head. Hockey helped. Being with my teammates helped. But nothing has ever come close to what Sasha does to me. With her, everything just settles. The world finally makes sense.
I shouldn’t have told her that sleeping together didn’t change anything. Because it changed everything. At the time, I convinced myself that it didn’t. That we could carry on pretending. That we’d simply crossed another line and move on like nothing happened.
I was kidding myself. And now I’m in too deep. And tomorrow, if she asked me to walk away, I honestly don’t think I could.
“Come on, Bella.” Sasha pleads, gently bouncing Isabella on her knee. “Just drink the bottle. You were hungry two seconds ago, girl.”
Tonight is Josh and Olivia’s monthly date night, so I volunteered to help Sasha babysit. Sasha doesn’t need the help. Bella has stayed over here so many times already, but this way, I get to spend two whole days with my two favorite girls. I would be such an ass to turn that down.
“Want me to try?” I offer, holding my hands out for the four month old baby. Sasha huffs but gives in, handing me Bella and her bottle. The second the bottle reaches Isabella’s mouth, she happily starts drinking. I can’t stop the smug grin spreading across my face.
“Oh my God, she hates me!” Sasha groan s covering her face with her hands. “I’m gonna be a terrible mom someday.”
“Bella doesn't hate you, Angel. She just likes me better.” I tease, “And you’re gonna be a great mom someday. Don’t doubt that.”
“How do you know that? I can’t even get a baby to drink a bottle, Conor.”
“Well, you basically raised Liam and look how he turned out.”
“Yeah, leaving home without telling anyone and getting a bus across the country on his own. I wouldn’t say me raising him turned out great.”
“Sash, he did that to get to you because you are so good to him.” Silence fills the room for a moment.
“He knew exactly who’d make him feel safe and understood.
You did that.” I shift Isabella onto my shoulder.
“Plus, he has ADHD. We’re harder to raise than most.” I can’t speak for everyone who has the diagnosis, but from a lot of the cases I do know of, we’re all similar.
“I think he turned out great for being faced with such a difficult life and that’s all on you. ”
Sasha’s eyes soften, giving me a small smile. “Thank you.” She says, standing from her spot on the couch to kiss my cheek. “At least I’ve had plenty of practice.” She laughs as she walks around the back of the couch. “You’ll probably pass it down to our kids.”
I freeze.
Sasha freezes.
Bella lets out a tiny burp between us.
Slowly, Sasha spins to face me, her eyes wide. “Our…” She clamps a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean…”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself laughing.
“I…” She points at me. “Don’t you dare-” A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Oh shut up, Conor!” She storms off into the kitchen, my laughter following her.
I glance down at Bella. “Did you hear that, Connie girl?” She blinks up at me with those big green-blue eyes. “Our kids.” The words echo around in my head.
I’d never really thought about having children.
Not seriously. I didn’t think I’d be cut out to be a good parent, but then Isabella came along.
And now, the idea doesn’t seem so impossible anymore.
Especially when I picture those kids with Sasha.
Watching her with Bella and Liam, I already know she’d be an incredible mom.
The thought settles somewhere dangerously deep inside my chest.
I really need to ask her what this is between us, but every time I work up the courage, I stop myself.
There’s a part of me deep down that knows her answer won’t be the one I want to hear. But the fact that she’s thought about our kids, that has to be a good sign, right?
“Everybody wanna steal my girl. Everybody wanna take her heart away.” I sing in my car on the way to practice, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel. Not to brag or anything but I’ve been told that my singing voice is very angelic. “Find another one cause she belongs to me-”
My epic attempt at the high note is interrupted by my phone ringing through my truck's Bluetooth speaker. “You interrupted my singing.” I huff down the phone.
“I’m sorry, son.” My mom says, “Maybe it was for the best though. Have you shattered the car windows yet?” She howls with laughter at her own joke while I sulk.
“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent singer.”
“Yeah, and I bet whoever told you that was deaf.” My dad chimes in. Great. I thought parents were supposed to be encouraging? Mine must have forgotten about that.
“Your father and I are on a road trip across the states. We were planning on visiting you in a month or so. Maybe we could come to one of your games.”
“That sounds great. Just let me know when and I’ll get you both tickets for the family box.
” I pull my truck into the parking lot of the stadium, finding a spot shaded by trees.
The start of the fall is still warm, feeling a lot like the summer, the heat warming my skin as I hop out of my truck, rounding to the opposite side to grab my gym bag and water bottle.
“Maybe we could meet your girlfriend.” My moms chirps and I pause. “Were you ever planning on telling us about her?” Damn it. Trust these two to finally look at the sporting news articles for the first time since I started playing hockey when there’s actually something on it that they should know.
“I was, but it’s still new.”
“I wouldn't say two months is ‘still new’.”
“I would argue that it is, since it’s my first real relationship.” That lie tastes sour on my tongue. I hate that I still have to keep up the ruse that this is a fake relationship. It doesn't feel fake anymore. It feels more real than anything I've ever experienced before.
“What’s her name? How did you two meet? What does she do? What age is she? Young enough to give me grandbabies I hope.” This is why I don’t tell my parents anything. It’s always endless questions and inappropriate comments like that!
“Easy.” I laugh. “Her name is Sasha. She’s Olivia’s best friend. She’s a receptionist at a law firm. She’s 30 and we are not talking about grandbabies.”
“Is she a nice girl?”
A smile spreads across my face. “She’s the best person I’ve ever met.”
“Aww, honey!” Mom swoons through the phone. “That’s sweet.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
“Does she make you happy?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. She really does.”
“You still with that girl of yours?” Coach asks as I move past him to the locker room.
He was in a great mood today. We all love it when he’s like that, which is very rare, might I add.
We skate better, make better passes and score more goals when he’s not being a dick.
The whole atmosphere in the locker room is different than it normally is and that just shows you what one person’s shitty mood can cause.
“I am.” I nod, moving aside to let my teammates pass by.
“Good. Keep her around. She’s grounding you, helping you focus.” I wasn’t expecting to hear this today. He points a finger at me. “You’re playing better. Less distracted. Don’t lose something that good.”
“Yes, sir.” Another lie added to the growing pile. It feels as though I’ve skated myself into a corner, surrounded by the opposition and every move I make traps me deeper and deeper and I’m running out of space.
I’m lying to everyone I care about and it’s slowly eating me from the inside out.
I get showered, moving to where the rest of the guys are after I’ve changed.
“Matthews, we’re heading down to the bar later for some drinks. You in?” Knight asks, sitting on the bench beside me. That sounds good. There’s nothing better than a cold beer on a hot day.
“I’ll be there. Mind if I bring Sash?”
“Sure.” He studies me for a second. “You two are getting pretty serious then, huh?”
I hesitate. I don’t actually know how to answer that anymore. “Actually…” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “How about we go for that drink now?”
Thirty minutes later, Knight and I are sitting on the beach with two cold beers and the waves rolling in beside us. “So?” Knight asks. “Do you think this is still fake to her?”
I stare out at the sea. “I really don’t know, man.
” I say, taking a swig of my drink. “I mean, we see each other almost every day, we go on dates, the sex is…” I trail off, not finishing that thought.
“It’s different, you know. When it’s someone you actually care about, it feels…
different.” I’m getting mixed signals from Sasha and it’s giving me whiplash.
One minute, she’s laying naked in my bed, and the next she’s saying how I’m gonna make some woman very happy one day, implying that it won’t be her. I’m confused.
“Yeah, I get it. Trust me.” Knight admits, hanging his head between his bent knees.
“You do?”
“It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter.”
“Nope, no.” I point my bottle at him. “I told you my secret, now you spill yours.” When he doesn’t speak, I urge him on, “Come on, Christian. You know I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Fine.” He sighs, kicking at the sand. “I’m not saying who it was with but I was nineteen. We were good for so long but you know what it’s like having a girlfriend when your hockey career starts.”
“No actually, I don’t.”
“The rumors started. Just the usual shit. But she believed them.” This is the first time I’ve seen Knight show any kind of emotion that wasn’t anger. After ten years, he’s still hurt by what happened. “She dumped me.”
“You didn’t explain?”
“She wouldn't let me.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Blocked my number, left the country to go study abroad. I never heard from her again for years.”
“And now?”
“She lives here.”
I blink at him. “Have you spoken to her?”
“I’ve tried.”
“And?”
He lets out a hollow laugh. “She hates my guts.” He downs the rest of his beer before getting to his feet.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past.” I stand with him, gathering our empties and putting them in the trashcan a few feet away.
“Just talk to Sasha. Let her know how you feel.” He dusts the sand off his jeans.
“Don’t spend years wondering what would have happened if you’d just been honest.”
It’s simple advice. But it seems like the hardest thing in the world to do.