Chapter 19 The One Who Stayed
THE ONE WHO STAYED
ELI
The Zamboni chokes and starts with a hope and a prayer; the thing is probably as old as this rink. I text Renae and ask her to price a new one for me to replace it. While it warms up, I fill Zammie’s dish with water. The pup is about half-way up my calves now, slurping away and making a mess.
I look around and a dozen other improvement projects get added to my running list, but I like it.
This rink has proven to be a passion project of mine, taking up my time outside of playing hockey.
Over the past few months, my identity has shifted, no longer “just” a player, but someone who can make a difference with the local kids.
More importantly, if something happens and I can no longer play hockey, I have this to fall back on.
The last skaters leave, and so do Mason and Tyler, driving off with Sean to the local hotel.
They’ll stay here in Boulder overnight and be back in the morning for final preparations for the big party.
We made a ton of progress today; I gaze up at thousands of twinkling lights above.
Magical. I can’t wait for the children to see everything.
I move outside and pull the plug on the bounce house to deflate it for the night. If this doesn’t prove to be the coolest Christmas party they’ll have ever attended, then I’ll have wasted a ton of money.
Before I can get back inside to lock up, a car I don’t recognize pulls in and parks. Out comes Aiden, bounding over to me.
“Coach Eli!” He wraps his arms around my legs. And then I realize who the driver is—Jerrod, stomping up to us, older than when I last saw him years ago. No sign of Stella with them. This is bad. Every instinct I have says this ends ugly—and it hurts everyone.
Shit. Be cool. “Hey, Aiden.”
“Can I skate? It’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do all day.” He gives me that little cherub face, and yeah, I’d do anything for him, but I have a strong feeling that I need to get Jerrod out of here as fast as possible.
“Sorry. It’s closing time. Come back tomorrow. We have the Christmas party; you can skate with all the kids then—”
“I believe my son said he wanted to skate. So you’re going to march back inside and let him do that.” Jerrod seethes, pointing two fingers and a thumb at me like he’s holding a gun, almost getting into my face. Is that supposed to scare me?
The sharp smell of alcohol on his breath, though, makes my jaw tighten. Not drunk—but not sober either. Enough to make judgment sloppy, to make the situation unsafe for Aiden. Enough to make me careful about how I handle things.
I pause and swallow, considering my options. “Sure. Anything for Aiden.” I open the door and welcome them in. Why does it feel like I’m giving an inch for the boy—and the adult with him wants to take a mile? And somehow, I think I’ll be the one blamed for whatever happens.
When Jerrod comes through, jacket unzipped, cheeks flushed, we eye each other with disdain, never quite able to get beyond any issues and jealousies we had with each other in the past.
I could take him if I have to. He’s smaller. Probably slower, too. But I don’t move—because winning a battle with him could cost me everything with Stella and Aiden.
“I hear my son can skate now,” the jerk asserts, his gruff tone noted.
“Yep, he’s gotten pretty good,” I say evenly.
“We sent videos so he can see what we do in hockey practice,” Aiden chimes in.
“Videos aren’t the same. I want to see you skate now, in person,” his father demands, rolling his shoulders, curling his fingers into fists.
“Uh, do you have his skates?” I ask.
Aiden gasps. “I left my gear bag at home.”
“So?” Jerrod’s mouth twitches. “Put him in rentals.”
Every instinct I have screams no. But Aiden is already tugging off his sneakers, eyes bright when Zammie runs up to him. “Wanna skate with me boy, wanna play?”
“Okay. I’ll find him a pair. But not for long. Like I said, it’s closing time.”
“I’m sure you’ll make an exception for him. After all, I hear you’re good buddies now.” Jerrod smirks as if he’s winning.
I get Aiden fitted with rental skates. I tie them up, double-checking they are good and tight on him. Zammie bounds onto the ice the moment I open the gate. Aiden laughs, pushing off, wobbling, and then finding his balance.
“See Dad? Are you watching?” He goes as fast as he can and then performs a good hockey stop.
“Yeah, look at you go.” Jerrod surprises me with a fatherly tone. For a minute, Jerrod watches, smiling, and it’s almost peaceful to see a father admire a son. This is the man Stella once loved and had a beautiful son with. And I hate that about him.
The moment is lost when he turns back to me, tone darker. “We need to come to a little understanding, man to man.”
“Wait, let me turn off the Zamboni.” I take off as if it is too loud to speak with him. It isn’t. I just need to think and clear my head before I do something stupid. I jump up on it and switch it off, with Aiden watching me the whole time.
“Can I get a ride tonight, Coach?”
“Not tonight, buddy. Oh, hey, be careful skating. You don’t have a helmet on yet. I’ll get you one.” I run back over to the rental counter, but Jerrod cuts me off.
“You must love this—how you get to play hero now.”
If I want to be the hero, I’d kick his ass out. But to protect Aiden, I do exactly what I’m doing—staying calm.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Making my son like you better than me?”
“What are you talking about? Let’s leave him out of it. You’ve never liked me, that’s the real issue here.” I glance at the ice behind Jerrod, making sure the boy is safely playing with Zammie.
I shift around and move through the rental shelves, finding the right size helmet.
“You’re right. This started long ago when you tried to take Stella away from me,” he snaps, and blocks me in behind the counter. I could take him and protect myself if it comes to that, but none of that matters if Aiden sees me lose control.
“You had already broken up when I met her. Now, excuse me so I can take this—”
“She was always mine, and would have come back to me until you got in the way, you son of a bitch.” His face reddens.
“What does it matter now? You convinced her to break up with me. You got her back. She had your baby. You won then. Yet here you are today, you’re not even together with her anymore, and you’re all up in my face about it.”
“It matters because you’re playing family with my son. And no one, especially you, gets to do that.” He scowls, his face almost purple now.
“You need to let this go, man. You have a new wife. Stella deserves to find someone who makes her and Aiden happy, too.”
“But not you. You stay away from them.”
“Or what?” I step closer. “Are you going to hit me in front of your kid?” I’d beg him to do it. Let the bastard try to get custody then. But I don’t like the way Jerrod looks at me like he wants to strangle me.
Out of the corner of my eye, something is wrong. The rink is too quiet; silence where there should be blades. None of Aiden’s usual laughter. Only Zammie barking over by the Zamboni.
I look harder, and my heart seizes. Aiden is climbing up the side of it, but his hand loses its grip and he falls, screaming.
“No,” I choke.
Jerrod turns just in time to see him go down hard—head snapping against the ice with a sickening crack.
“Aiden!” I’m moving before my brain catches up, running and sliding across the ice, knees slamming down beside him.
He’s not moving. I put my ear down and check for breathing.
No, no, no.
“Hey, buddy,” I shout, hands shaking asI lightly slap his cheeks. “Come on. Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
I check his chest.
Nothing.
Training takes over. I’ve seen this before. Years of crashes, concussions, bodies sprawled on the ice. We undergo intensive CPR training regularly as a team.
I tilt Aiden’s head, start compressions, counting out loud because if I stop counting, I’ll fall apart. This is pure instinct I’m operating on now; if I stop and think, he could die. I breathe into his mouth and then I shout to Jerrod.
“Call 911!”
I see him locked in the place where I left him, face stricken, watching with horror.
“Jerrod, call now. He’s not breathing! He could die.”
That shakes up and he fumbles for his phone, dropping it once, hands trembling as he dials. His voice cracks as he gives the address I shout to him to the dispatcher.
“One—two—three—” I continue another round of CPR on Aiden.
Please. Please. Please. It’s an agonizing sprint, life flashing before my eyes of every moment I’ve spent with him over the past few months.
“Jerrod? Now call Stella. Tell her to meet the ambulance at the hospital.”
On the fifth cycle, Aiden coughs, in a desperate gasp for air.
“Oh, thank God,” I sob, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. “Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
Sirens approach. Paramedics take over, asking questions. I answer every one of them.
I call up Mason quickly to come take care of Zammie and lock up.
Jerrod stands off to the side, useless, pale, and shaking. I think I hear him muttering to himself, “He almost died. Oh, my God.”
Some people can’t handle traumatic things and freeze. But still, this was his son in peril, and not once did he kneel down to hold his hands or anything.
The EMTs load Aiden onto the stretcher and put him into the ambulance.
“We need a parent to ride with us,” one of the EMTs says.
“His dad is right there.” I step back without thinking.
Jerrod doesn’t move. Just stares at me and shakes his head. And then—without a word—he turns and walks to his car. What the fuck?
I don’t understand how a man walks away from his child like that. And I never want to be that man. One more reason to hate the fucker. And plenty of ammunition in a custody battle.
But Aiden is the priority right now.
I climb into the ambulance, take his little hand, and hold it like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
“I’m here, buddy,” I assure him. “I’ve got you.”
“Eli,” he whispers, I see his lips form around my name despite the oxygen mask on him, and fear in his eyes.
“That’s right. I’m here and I always will be.” I don’t know if Stella will let me make good on that promise, but I’ll do everything I can to keep these two in my life, whatever it takes, however that looks.
Only one thing I know—I’m not leaving Aiden’s side. In the end, what matters is I’m the man who stayed when he needed someone the most.
As the ambulance doors slam shut, I can’t imagine a world where Aiden doesn’t make it through this. I won’t. Whatever the future holds for us, if I had lost him tonight… but I refuse to think like that now.