Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Viktor
My father and Aunt Irina talk of nothing but the birds at dinner.
I honestly haven’t given much thought to the sanctuary beyond the fact that it’s important to Holly, but after looking at the pictures and videos, and listening to my father and aunt waxing poetic about the time they spent there, I have to admit I’m curious.
“I have new pet,” my father says with a laugh, showing my mother yet another photograph of him and a bird named Priscilla. I can see my mother and Olga are getting annoyed, but Papa and Aunt Irina don’t seem to care.
“This is the best day of trip,” my father announces proudly. “I will love this memory forever.”
“We can go back before you leave,” Holly says to him, smiling.
“You will go again?” he asks her.
“Of course.”
He turns to my mother. “You will go. You will enjoy.”
My mother rolls her eyes. “I will shop. You will go.”
He shrugs. “Okay.”
Then I see it.
The way he surreptitiously trails two fingers along her forearm.
She glances down and touches his fingers with hers.
Contact only lasts a second. That’s all it is, but now I understand what he was talking about.
She rolled her eyes at him like she’s annoyed about the birds but she’s not.
Not really. Maybe she’s not interested in the birds but she understands how much he enjoys it, and that’s important to her. His happiness makes her happy.
Just like it makes me happy when I see Holly happy.
She came home from the day with my father and aunt full of laughter and stories, talking nonstop about how they spent their time. Calling the birds by name, showing me pictures. And I can already see that she bonded with my father. They share something now, and it’s the start of a relationship.
A real one.
Something genuine and special, with my father.
An interest they share that I couldn’t have predicted.
To my utter shock, I’m envious that my father got to experience that with her before I did.
Something that’s important to her. I couldn’t care less about birds, but now I see that I should take an interest in things she enjoys.
I don’t have to love the birds but I can appreciate the fact that she loves them.
And occasionally enjoy them with her. It’s not like I hate birds—I just never gave them any thought.
It’s the equivalent of one of those random caresses my father mentioned. A way to bond with her. To show her that I care without having to say anything.
Because I’m bad at that.
Because I don’t know what I’m doing.
Because I want her.
It’s that simple.
If I allow myself to stop and take a breath, I’ll remind myself about all the ways this has disaster written all over it but I don’t care.
She’s my wife and she’s mine.
Whatever happens in the future is a problem for another day.
Today, I’m going to start letting her know she’s more than just a contract.
I tried before, when I mentioned taking her out on a date, and she essentially blew me off.
That ends now. I will make the effort, even if she’s resistant at first. I know it’s because she’s protecting herself.
I understand that. What she needs to understand is that I would never knowingly hurt her.
But tonight is game four—and we need this win.
Tomorrow, I need to start being the man I want to be instead of expecting her to figure out the man I am.
I walk through the arena with renewed purpose, and for the first time since we got married, I’m completely calm. Focused on hockey. Ready to win.
“Hey.” One of the newer guys on the team, Cash Newman, sinks down next to me and starts taping his stick.
The team picked him up just before the trade deadline and he’s been a beast on the ice.
I love watching him out there. We don’t know each other well but everyone has heard his name in the hockey world.
He came from the minors and then suddenly became a superstar.
It’s been fascinating to watch him grow and mature on the ice.
Now he’s my teammate and maybe even becoming a friend.
I watch the way he smoothly tapes his stick, his hand and the roll of tape moving in a rhythmic motion. I do it too, so this is nothing new, but I’m hyper focused tonight and it’s somewhat soothing.
He glances at me, arching a brow quizzically. “Learning a new technique?”
I chuckle. “No. Just very much in my head.”
He nods. “Yeah. Me too. Big game tonight.” He looks around. “Really didn’t think we’d get here this season.”
We’re an expansion team and it’s rare for a brand-new team to go this far in their inaugural season.
“Team is special,” I reply. “Also, Coach Teller is special.”
“Yeah. He’s pretty cool.” He finishes what he’s doing and tosses the tape into the bag at his feet.
“You are nervous?” I ask curiously, since we’ve never had a private conversation before.
“A little.” He shrugs. “It happens before every game, usually just until I’m on the ice. Then everything else fades away.”
“For me too.”
“Must be harder, being a newlywed.”
I glance at him, trying to ascertain if he’s being sarcastic, but his expression hasn’t changed.
“She is very understanding. More issues with my mother wanting attention. She is here from Russia.” I shrug, like he should understand.
And he does. “Yeah, moms can be needy. Mine definitely is. But I told her she couldn’t come unless we get to the finals.”
“My mother does not listen like this.”
We chuckle.
Then Coach Teller comes in and looks around.
“Hey, Vik.” He sits on my other side as Cash finds something else to do.
Everyone is busy getting dressed, taping sticks, all of our pre-game rituals and Coach doesn’t feel the need to interfere.
Sometimes, he does this. Comes in, sits down and talks to people, cracks jokes—for a short time, he becomes one of us.
I’m not sure if it’s done by design, as a way to build relationships, or if he just misses playing.
Coach Teller is young, I think in his mid-to-late thirties.
When he’s on the ice with us, it’s obvious he played because he’s still fast, still steady.
He was forced to retire after a permanent injury to his wrist, but his feet are still strong and sure.
I enjoy when he joins the scrimmage. Last week, he scored on me and told me I owed him a beer.
I guess today it’s my turn to get attention.
“How’re you doin’?” he asks.
“I am good.”
“How are you adjusting to married life during the playoffs?”
“Cash just ask me this question.” I’m more thoughtful with Coach though. “I think is okay. She is very patient. She does not demand attention.” I don’t want to mention my parents or let him think I’m distracted.
“This is a special time, though.”
“Yes, but we will have honeymoon to Egypt once season is over. Then we will have special time.”
“All of it is special time. Don’t ever forget that.
Yes, we’re busy during hockey season and the playoffs amp everything up.
But don’t let her become an afterthought.
You can still snuggle on the couch while you’re watching video on your iPad.
You can still get up thirty minutes earlier than necessary so you can share a cup of coffee before you start your day.
Relationships are work, my friend. And no matter what you’ve told people, my gut tells me there’s something else going on with you and Holly. ”
I swallow. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. None of my business, but I just wanted to let you know—if you need to talk, I’m here. No judgment.”
“I am fine. We are fine.”
“Okay.” He nods. “I’m just throwing it out there.
I can tell by the look in your eyes that you have a lot on your mind, and it’s more than the playoffs.
So, if you run into trouble, find me. I can help.
That’s partly why I’m here. I’m your coach, but a true coach cares about you on and off the ice.
Guys with off-ice trouble don’t produce on the ice. I know that from personal experience.”
What does he see that tells him I have something going on?
Can people tell that Holly and I aren’t in love?
Am I not being properly attentive? Because if something like that is happening, the one person who’ll know is my mother—and she’s like a dog with a bone if she thinks something is going on in my life.
“Why do you think this?” I ask finally, my mind racing.
He shrugs. “Something in your eyes. A gut feeling I have. I’m a bit of an empath—you ever fucking repeat that and I’ll bench your ass.”
What the fuck is an empath?
I stare at him.
“Empaths are people who are more in tune to other people’s thoughts and emotions.”
“You think I have emotion?”
He laughs. “I hope so, buddy. I really hope so. But yeah, you’re holding something back.
I don’t know if it’s personal or professional.
If it’s professional, let’s talk about it now, before it impacts your game.
If it’s personal, like I said, I’m here for you.
Everyone needs someone neutral to listen when shit hits the fan.
Or when they have a difficult decision to make.
Whatever it is, I’m here if you need me. That’s all. No pressure.”
With that, he gets up and walks away.
Leaving me wondering what the hell he sees that I don’t.