Chapter 15
THE B WORD
STELLA
At the white-out game on Thanksgiving Day, Aiden munches on a corn dog, proud to wear his white jersey swallowing his small frame. The number six is stamped on the front. The name Lewis stretches across the back, just like mine.
Eli made sure we have jerseys of every color now, whether home, away, or alternates, as if there are many more games to come in our future. Things are happening so fast between us, we’ve hardly talked about what’s ahead for us, a conversation that is probably coming due.
Our seats are right up against the glass, on the end where the Aspens will be twice.
Close enough that I can hear skates carving ice and sticks snapping passes—and to spot Eli.
There he is. When he spies us, it’s a quick flick of his mouth, a crooked grin just for us.
After all this time, he still makes my butterflies flutter inside of me.
Aiden and I sit with the WAGs tonight, in the nicest seats in the arena behind the goal.
These women are friendly and warm, and stylish in a way that feels effortless.
Knee-high boots seem to be popular among them, some with high heels, leather or suede, brown, burgundy or black, and most with a high designer price tag that I definitely cannot currently afford.
They kindly ask about Aiden and compliment his jersey. They tell me I got the best seat for viewing number six playing. A few of them have their children with them, so babies get passed around from lap to lap, and the older kids play on the stairs unless someone is trying to get by.
As the game gets underway, their conversation drifts to holiday shopping and home renovations. They talk about their favorite Instagram influencers, and private schools with long kindergarten waitlists, and referrals for nannies who travel with families on vacations to beaches around the globe.
I smile, nod, and sip my soda. It feels a lot like I’m listening to a foreign language, sitting next to a whole new world.
“Stella, you’re here.” Relief floods me when Michelle appears, with Aspen the mascot lumbering behind her and waving to the crowd.
Tyler’s sister looks like she belongs anywhere she stands—jeans, a black blazer over a t-shirt, and a brunette ponytail with cute bangs.
Of course, boots too. But there never seems to be any pretense about her.
Aiden bolts the second Aspen crouches to high-five the kids and give them candy, and Michelle slips into his seat beside me.
“I’ll save you for a minute,” she whispers, grinning. She nods toward the WAGs. “They can be a lot.”
I exhale. “They’re nice. Just different.”
Before she can answer, a whistle shrieks. “Hunter with a two-minute minor penalty for high-sticking,” the announcer calls.
She rolls her eyes. “Typical Mason. The hothead on the ice.”
Instead of cutting straight across to the sin bin, he takes the long route. When he passes the glass, he looks straight at Michelle and winks and blows her a kiss in a flash. If I blinked, I’d have missed it.
“Well, that’s a look that could melt a woman’s ice. What’s going on?” I tilt my head, unable to help myself from posing the question.
Michelle snorts. “Nothing. I told you before, Tyler is my brother. There’s an unwritten rule—no teammates.”
“Whatever you say,” I tease.
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
Aiden returns just as the Jumbotron swings our way. The women beside us squeal and wave. Michelle laughs and points before she leaves with Aspen. “Look—you two are on it.”
Aiden waves wildly. I cheer too, caught up in the moment. I think nothing of it. Until a few minutes go by and my phone buzzes.
Jerrod: You’re at a hockey game?
How would he know?
Jerrod: First I get videos of Aiden learning to skate, then I’m flipping through the games and see you on the big screen with my son on sports television.
Jerrod: I have the screen paused on you two. Why are you wearing Lewis’s jersey?
My stomach drops.
I stare at my phone while the crowd roars around me. Aiden jumps and squeals, while I’m dying inside. I’m divorced. Jerrod doesn’t get a say in what I do. I’m allowed to move on.
Aiden has never been happier than these past couple of months with Eli. More than I can say about Jerrod.
I don’t respond. But that doesn’t stop more texts arriving.
Jerrod: I know what the jersey means. I don’t want our son getting close to him.
Jerrod: End things with Lewis now, or I’ll take you back to court and fight for custody.
My breath runs shallow. On what grounds would Jerrod base it on? That I let our son smile again? That I’m back with a man he can’t stand? Well, he needs to get over it because this time, I’m not walking away from Eli.
Besides, how would Jerrod afford to take me back to court, what with his new wife complaining every time he sends the court-ordered money he owes me for support?
I don’t answer his texts, as even more arrive. Not with Aiden right here and Eli on the ice just twenty feet away. He can probably sense when I’m the least bit upset. My phone vibrates again, but I shut it off and stick it in my purse. I need time to process this.
The second period horn sounds. I look up just as Eli skates to the glass, pounding his glove against it to get our attention.
He flashes a smoldering smile at me first, and then drops his glove on the ice.
He presses his fist against the glass, low for Aiden, who bumps it back with his little fist and giggles.
For one suspended moment, nothing else exists but the bond those two share, even if glass separates them. Jerrod was never a father who could quite connect on a deep, emotional level with Aiden. He would never understand the kind of joy Eli gives to Aiden every time he’s around us.
After the Aspens win the afternoon game 4-1, when we get into Eli’s van, he announces plans fell through to have Thanksgiving dinner with Tyler’s parents.
Apparently, they’ve hosted holidays for him and his single teammates for the past few years, and we were invited.
We made pumpkin pies, which sit on the backseat next to Aiden.
But both parents came down with the flu and had to cancel.
“Instead, our dinner plans shifted to my place in Denver,” Eli clips, clearing his throat. He seems less than pleased.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, wishing I could reach over and pat his thigh, but with Aiden here in the car with us… When would be the right time to tell Aiden about us? And how should I tell Eli about Jerrod’s threats?
Eli’s jaw tenses, and he works his hand tighter around the steering wheel. “Fine. I wasn’t expecting company, you know. I would have had the place cleaned and things prepared.”
Usually, when he wins a game, he’s hard to contain: talkative, happy, sexy… There’s more to it today, I think, given his sudden quietness. Which, when we make our way up the long driveway, I think I figure out why.
Mansion would be a better word to suit his home here. My head snaps to his as he parks at the elegant, curved staircase leading to the front door.
“This is yours?”
“It means nothing to me. Just a place to sleep. I bought it during the marriage.” He shrugs it off casually, like it’s a spare jacket. “I’ve been meaning to sell it, but haven’t gotten around to it.”
Eli’s teammates beat us here—Tyler, Sean, and Mason. Michelle too. Sean and Tyler brought dates. Mason and Michelle didn’t.
When I get over the awe of the grand enormity of the entryway and main level floors, and over the fact that there is a lack of furniture in most rooms, I help Michelle and Eli in the kitchen.
We scrounge for plates, silverware and napkins, and we put the food out, minus the turkey that Michelle’s parents were going to cook.
Somehow it all comes together, and we eat in the dining room, sitting on the floor with our backs to the walls. Aiden laughs and thinks this is funny, and I suppose from his point of view it is.
I enjoy watching Eli’s interactions with the guys, open and joking around, and they all know Michelle well enough that they tease her a lot.
Aiden asks a lot of questions about the game, which impresses them all, and they sweetly take the time to answer him.
But Eli doesn’t sit beside me, and for a stupid second, I wonder if this house, this life of his pulls me somewhere I can’t follow.
After dinner, we get the grand tour of the game room downstairs.
I’m guessing that’s where the decorating budget went because they have everything.
Aiden’s eyes are enormous, taking it all in, but I’m not impressed.
These are boys with their toys, and I’m not ready to let my little boy grow up to be one of them yet.
Somehow, though, they talk me into letting him play a video game with them.
His eager little face begs me. Eli is there to play as they start, and they find a game that is age-appropriate for him.
Michelle has disappeared somewhere in the house, so I wander back upstairs and around looking for the bathroom.
I find the garage instead. Scratch that. It’s more like a car museum. I can’t even name the cars, except one is a Ferrari, I think. Who exactly am I dating? Eli of the past never put much stock into cars.
Suddenly, he rushes into the garage. He spies me standing in the middle of all the shiny chrome, and his shoulders drop. “I wasn’t ready for you to see the house and all of this yet.”
“It makes me feel like I don’t even know you,” I say, spreading my arms and moving in a slow circle to take it all in. With a humorless laugh, I drop my arms, facing him again.
He scoffs. “You know me. Search your heart, and that’s where you’ll find me. All this stuff I don’t need. They’re just material things that I thought would make my ex happy, and things to soothe the hole in my heart when I divorced. But you are the only thing that fills me up.”
“Mom said hockey players have lucrative contracts.” I joke because it’s the only response I have right now.