16. Natalie #2
“I do not. You were a prodigy. Everyone in town knew it.” Coach Collins turns to me. “Has he told you about the state championship, senior year? Down by two goals in the third period, and this kid scores a hat trick in the final eight minutes. I've never seen anything like it before or since.”
“He hasn't told me that story.”
“Then you've got some work to do.” Coach Collins pats Ethan's arm. “Good to see you, son. Heard about your knee. You're going to come back stronger than ever. I know it.”
After Coach Collins returns to the rink, Ethan and I sit in the empty bleachers and watch the kids play. His leg bounces restlessly, the way it does when he's anxious.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s on your mind?”
Ethan sighs. “Every time I see someone skating, I wonder if that's going to be me again or if I'm just fooling myself.”
“You're not fooling yourself. Your progress is real, and your strength is coming back.”
“I'm not twenty-three anymore, Natalie. I can't just bounce back like I used to. This injury, at my age, with my mileage, doesn’t make the odds great.”
I lace my fingers through his. “The odds don't know you. Statistics are just numbers. They don't account for stubbornness.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I thought stubbornness was a bad thing.”
“It is when you're trying to do yoga. It's an asset when you're fighting for your career.”
He turns to me. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably die attempting a downward dog.”
He laughs. “Probably.”
We leave the rink and drive to a place called Betty’s Eats, a little establishment with red vinyl booths and a jukebox. The moment we walk in, a woman with silver hair and a flour-dusted apron comes rushing over.
“Ethan Ward. As I live and breathe.” She pulls him into a hug. “Look at you, all grown up and famous. I still remember when you used to come in here after games and eat three burgers in one sitting.”
“Hi, Betty.”
“And you brought a girl.” Millie releases him and turns her attention to me. “This the one who finally caught Ethan Ward? Honey, we've been waiting years for this. The girls in this town used to throw themselves at him, and he never gave any of them a second glance.”
Brody couldn't stay faithful for three years. And yet Ethan has always had women throwing themselves at him, and he doesn’t take advantage of that. I spent so long believing I wasn't enough, that there was something wrong with me that made Brody stray.
But Ethan makes me feel like I'm the only woman in the world.
Ethan and I laugh.
“It's true. You were so focused on hockey, you didn't even notice when the girls threw themselves at you.”
“I noticed. I just didn't care.”
“My point exactly.” Betty turns to me. “Welcome to Eau Claire, sweetheart. Any woman who can distract this boy from hockey must be something special.”
She seats us in a corner booth and brings us two slices of Wisconsin apple crumble. It’s the best thing I've ever tasted.
“This is where I decided to go pro,” Ethan says, poking at his pie. “Right here in this booth. I was seventeen and I'd just gotten scouted by three different teams. Dad sat across from me, right where you are now, and asked what I wanted to do with my life.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I wanted to be in the NHL. He never pushed me one way or the other. He supported whatever I chose.”
“That's rare. Most parents would have pushed you toward college first.”
“My parents aren't most parents.” He looks at me across the table. “What about yours? They must have been pleased with your choice of career.”
I make a face. “My mom wanted me to marry well and join the Junior League. Physical therapy was too working-class for her taste.” I try to use a light tone, even though my mother’s dismissive attitude towards my career still hurts.
“My dad was supportive, though. He's a cardiologist, so at least I was in the medical field. That was good enough for him.”
I let out a breath. “Your family is so different and warm. My mom has known Brody for three years, and she still calls him 'a catch' like I'm supposed to be grateful he wanted to marry me.”
“You, Natalie Cross, are the catch,” Ethan says.
We finish our pie and drive back to the house as the sun begins to set. Danna has made pot roast for dinner, and the whole family gathers around the table, with Lucy chattering about her latest drama while Danna interjects with questions and corrections.
I love it.
It's loud, and nothing like the formal dinners I grew up with, where conversation was polite, and topics were carefully selected to avoid conflict.
After dinner, Danna pulls out photo albums, and I spend two hours looking at pictures of baby Ethan in the bathtub, toddler Ethan with chocolate all over his face, and teenage Ethan with braces and a truly bad haircut.
“Mom,” Ethan groans, trying to grab the album. “She doesn't need to see these.”
I hold the album out of his reach. “Oh my God, is that a mullet?”
“It was the style.”
Lucy laughs from the other end of the couch. “He thought he looked so cool. He used to put gel in it and everything.”
“I will pay you to stop talking.”
“Not enough money in the world, big brother.”
By the time we head to bed, my face hurts from laughing. Ethan walks me to my door and looks both ways down the hallway before stealing a quick kiss.
“Tonight,” he whispers. “Your room or mine?”
“Yours. I want to see if you still have stuffed animals.”
“I don't have stuffed animals.”
“We'll see.”