30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Sarah
Kevin's flight lands late Thursday night and I start checking the location on his phone to gauge when he'll be back home, as though repeatedly refreshing the app is going to make him get here faster.
Five days shouldn't feel this long. We've texted every day.
FaceTimed every night when he's gotten to his hotel.
We've more or less done this for as long as we have known each other.
But this is his first road trip since I put it out there and told him I loved him while on a balcony overlooking Lake Travis.
It's the first road trip since he told me he loved me back and kissed me in front of his teammates and closest friends.
And that makes it all different now. I'm allowing myself to admit I miss him in a way that's completely irrational for someone who's supposed to be independent and self-sufficient.
It's obviously the hormones.
Finally, I hear him opening the door quietly. He probably thinks I'm asleep, since I crash at the drop of a hat these days.
Then Ranger loses his mind — all wagging tail and excited whining, greeting Kevin like he's been gone for months instead of days.
I get out of bed, stand at the edge of the hallway. Watch Kevin crouch down to give Ranger the attention he's demanding.
Then he looks up at me.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi, baby."
He crosses to me in three strides. Pulls me into his arms. Just holds me, one hand in my hair, the other around my waist, and I breathe him in — one long deep breath that reassures me that he's here and everything is good once again.
"Missed you," he says into my hair.
"Missed you too." I tighten my arms around his waist, press my face against his chest. "How was Calgary?"
"Cold. Long. We won and I didn't have to leave the game to get medical, so that's better than my last trip there." He pulls back enough to see my face. Studies me like he's cataloging changes. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Tired. Lindy and I have that school thing tomorrow morning with Ranger for the Super PawMart deal. We're reading books to kids."
"The elementary school visit?"
"Yeah. Should be fun. Ranger's going to be a superstar." I yawn despite myself. "Come to bed?"
Kevin nods in agreement and drops his bag.
I'll take care of it tomorrow. For now, I just want to be in bed and have him solid and steady beside me.
He peels off all the layers of his travel suit and drapes them over a chair — most un-Kevin-like behavior.
He's usually such a stickler for making sure everything is in its proper place.
They say parenthood changes people. Maybe Kevin's starting early…
Ranger follows us, settling on his own bed in the corner with a satisfied huff.
We slide into bed and with one fluid move, Kevin pulls me against his side. I snuggle against him, resting my hand over his heart, feeling it beat steady and strong under my palm.
"And then we've both got the doctor's appointment tomorrow," I remind him. "Four-thirty."
"I know. I can't wait to see our baby." I can feel him beaming — I don't even have to see it. His enthusiasm reminds me of a child on Christmas.
"I don't think we can really tell anything this early," I say, just barely on this side of consciousness.
"Ten fingers, ten toes. We'll be able to count each one. Together." The certainty in his voice settles something anxious in the back of my mind and I relax right into sleep, his arm around my shoulders, my hand holding his close to my heart, Ranger snoring softly in the corner.
Ten fingers, ten toes, and a full night of dreams about a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes who might play hockey or a little girl with dirty blonde hair and green eyes who holds Ranger's leash as we walk our favorite route through Zilker Park.
The elementary school visit is exactly what I needed to take my mind off of this afternoon's doctor's appointment. The room is full of second graders who lose their absolute minds over Ranger in his custom Stampede jersey.
"Can I pet him?"
"What's his name?"
"Does he play hockey too?"
Lindy's capturing everything with her camera while I demonstrate Ranger's tricks. Sit. Stay. Shake. The kids go wild when he does a spin on command.
The principal, Mrs. Dominguez, presents us with an oversized check from their fundraiser for Lone Star Paws. "The students raised over two thousand dollars through their read-a-thon. We're so proud of them."
I crouch down to the kids' level. "You guys are amazing. Do you know what this money does? It helps us take care of dogs who don't have homes yet. Dogs like Ranger used to be."
A little girl in the front row gasps. "Ranger didn't have a home?"
"Not at first. But now he does. And because of you, more dogs are going to find their homes too."
The kids cheer. Ranger barks once, like he's cheering too, and everyone laughs.
By the time we're done, it's almost one. Lindy's scrolling through her camera with satisfaction. "This is gold, Sarah. Super PawMart's going to love every time we tag them with one of these."
"It went better than I expected."
"Better? It was perfect. Those kids loved you. And Ranger's a natural." She grins. "Want to grab lunch? Paige and Quinn are eating at Juliet. Check your texts. They want us to join them. You need to eat anyway."
She's not wrong. And the nausea's finally settled enough that food sounds good.
I drop Ranger by the rescue for a little playtime with friends, then meet the girls at Juliet Italian Kitchen, a place downtown with exposed brick and too many plants and the best burrata I've ever had.
Except sadly, that may be on the no-no list for pregnant women.
I'll have to look that up on my phone when I get to the table.
Paige is already there, looking radiant in a sweater dress that shows off her emerging bump. Quinn arrives a few minutes later in a Stampede zip-up and leggings, clearly coming straight from the training facility.
"How'd the school visit go?" Paige asks after we order.
"Amazing. The kids were so sweet. And Ranger was perfect." I pull out my phone to show them some candids.
"Look at his little face!" Paige coos over a shot of Ranger surrounded by children. "He's so patient with them."
"He loves kids," I say. "Which is good, because he's going to have one following him around soon. Poor Ranger doesn't even know what's coming for him."
Paige laughs. "Our dogs are in for a rude awakening too. Have you and Kevin thought about names yet? Brett has the worst ideas for names. He wants to name the baby Bauer, if it's a boy."
"As in the hockey equipment manufacturer?" Quinn gets a case of the giggles. "Yeah, kid, we named you for Dad's favorite stick. Is his middle name going to be Pulse?"
I can't help myself. I start laughing too. "CCM! It's time for dinner!"
“Warrior! Clean your room!” Paige practices her mom voice.
Now we're all laughing and throwing out the craziest hockey-adjacent names we can think of. I have some ideas for names, and I stop myself from putting them out to the girls. I should probably talk about it with Kevin first.
But I can guarantee we are not naming this child Puck.
Or Celly.
Or Barn or Hat Trick.
Our food arrives. Paige turns the conversation to nursery plans and whether or not she should get the baby a stocking for this Christmas or wait until next year.
"I need to take notes. I hadn't even thought about Christmas." I'm already failing at Santa Claus duty and the baby isn't even here yet. There has to be a manual for all of this out there somewhere.
Then, Lindy pulls up photos from Saturday at The Oasis. "I still cannot believe Liam planned a baby shower."
Paige laughs. "It wasn't so much an actual baby shower as an excuse for nachos and beer for everyone but me and Sarah. But yeah, I didn't know Liam was a party planner."
A subtle shadow falls across Quinn’s face. It only lasts a second, but I catch the echo of some sadness before she smooths it away.
"It's genetic," she says, looking absently at the loaf of focaccia in the center of the table. "Cora Callahan actually was a corporate event planner before she stayed home to raise Liam and Caela. I guess he picked up something along the way."
I don't think before asking. "Oh, so you know his mom well?"
I see hesitation settle in Quinn's eyes and I instantly regret the question.
Of course she’s met Cora Callahan and knows all the details about her. Pregnant brain strikes again.
And this time, embarrassingly so.
Quinn takes a long sip of her iced tea. I've always thought of Quinn as naturally beautiful, but now her features are completely blank and unreadable. "I haven't even talked to her in two years. But she's wonderful. And very organized."
The silence stretches just a beat too long. Lindy's looking between us. Paige has gone very still.
Paige takes an overly long sip of her drink. "Do you think he'll ever grow up?"
Quinn's fork stops halfway to her mouth. She sets it down carefully.
"No." Quinn makes the declaration with absolute certainty. "He's made his choices. He's going to be a caricature of a frat boy hockey player, probably forever. But that's someone else's issue. Unless he needs a custom player wellness protocol, Liam Callahan is not my fucking problem anymore."
If I reach out, I think I can probably physically touch the hurt that Quinn's just put out on the table between all of us. It's palpable.
Kevin loves Liam, considers him one of his best friends — and that's the side of Liam I've seen the most. The funny teammate, the guy who organized a spontaneous baby shower, the one who's always included me at Wing Wednesday.
But the way Quinn says it — a caricature of a frat boy hockey player who’s not her fucking problem anymore — makes me realize there's a whole side of Liam I've never seen.