Chapter 3
Chapter Three
JP blinked a few times and tried to focus as he woke up.
He could hear voices coming from another room.
The kitchen? Maybe it was suppertime; it looked like the sun was heading down.
He took a breath. Everything still hurt, but not as much as this morning.
Maybe getting some sleep had made a difference. He didn’t know.
What he did know was that he had to pee.
Badly. He hauled himself into a full sitting position, checking out the lay of the land.
The wheelchair was a step or two to the right, his crutches on the ground next to them.
He wasn’t sure which would be easier to use.
It seemed like this huge quandary, too. He didn’t think it should be, but it was.
“I’m going to check on JP. I’ll be right back.” He knew that voice like he knew his own. Michael Silver. Ian’s brother.
The makeshift curtain door twitched, and Michael peeked in. “Hey, man. You doing okay?”
“Michael. Hey.” The man had been his best friend until he’d left for Florida, then he’d closed ranks with Ian. Which a brother should do, he supposed. “I need to pee,” he admitted. Mike was a nurse, so he didn’t figure this was an unusual ask for him.
“Good deal. Ian put rails around the toilet, so you’ll be able to hold yourself up.” Mike came over and helped him get into the wheelchair.
Thank God. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it on his own.
“How is he?” JP asked.
Mike didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what JP was talking about. “Tired and wigged out.”
“I had nowhere else to go.”
“Ian said this is your home, so you belong here.” Mike got him into the bathroom. “I told him to get you a hotel.”
“He’s a better man than you.” His chou was a fine man. Of course Ian wasn’t his chou anymore, was he? That had ended when he’d gotten traded to Florida, and Ian had stayed here with the babies.
“He is. He’s your husband and is raising your babies, I guess, so that’s something.”
Except he didn’t think any of this was his anymore, was it? Man, he was so fucked.
His leg, his career, his marriage, just fucked.
“So, it actually looks pretty damn good. You just need to stay off it for a while, okay?” Mike helped him get undressed and cleaned up. “I’m going to call your former team and tell them to hire me as your day nurse, or we’ll go public. You need help beyond what Ian can give you alone.”
“Talk to my agent. He’s working on getting me the rest of my contract. And he’s pretty sure he can get me a settlement from the team we were playing. He says the league’ll pony up to keep things quiet. And yeah? It looks okay? It feels like hell.”
Mike looked at him, straight on. “It looks like it’s supposed to. That’s great. And does Ian have all the numbers? He’s making mac and cheese for supper, by the way. The kids are excited.”
Mike was still ADHD boy. The good thing was the man was charming as hell, and a good, good friend.
“He has Dan’s number – that’s my agent. He’s always had it.” So that Ian always had a way to contact him if he had to.
“Good deal. Let’s get you in bed and propped up and your dressings changed. You can tell me what you loved about Florida, and I’ll tell you about my house. I bought about five minutes from here.”
“Five minutes? Couldn’t find a place next door?”
“No. That fucking bitch Alison bought it. She’s a chef at La Tous. She’s insufferable. Ian adores her.”
“Seriously? You almost bought the place next door?” That was crazy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his leg was jostled and sent pain radiating up through him.
“Almost, but she wanted it.” Finally Michael stopped moving him. “Comfy now?”
“No.” Everything fucking hurt. “But I imagine I won’t be for a while.” They’d had to rebuild the freaking bones in his leg.
“Well, you shouldn’t have sharp pains, nothing agonizing. If you do, we need to get you to a surgeon. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Want to meet your children?”
“You care what order I answer those in?” he demanded, closing his eyes. His children. He didn’t recognize them. They’d been little babies he’d held in his arms when he left.
“Uh…not if all the answers are yes.”
Fucker.
“They started screaming and crying when they saw me, Mike.” Like he was some monster.
Mike rolled his eyes. “Let me tell you about your son. He cries at the tip of a hat. At a loud sound. At the threat of a loud sound. Your daughter is a screamer. She will tell you what for and protect her ‘brudder’.”
He frowned. “It sounds like you don’t like them very much.”
Michael blinked. “Are you kidding? They are the most amazing humans on the planet. Peter is so kind, so nurturing. He wants to have babies like Daddy. Victoria is fearless. She’s already on the ice. She loves her family fiercely, and God help you if you make her brudder cry.”
That was better. “That’s not what you said the first time,” he pointed out. “And yes. To all three, by the way.” God help him.
“I’ll have Ian come in with them after their baths. You want more ginger ale?”
“Please. Cold?” The last glass had gone pretty quickly. His dislike of warm pop was only surpassed by his dislike of flat pop.
“You know it. You want to try some mac and cheese? It’s homemade.”
His nose wrinkled, and he sighed, Mike cracking up.
“What? He could burn Kraft Dinner in a box like nobody’s business.” No one had ever accused him of being a chef, but at least he could reheat shit without a microwave.
“His neighbor Allison taught him a bunch, and then he took enough culinary courses to get a degree, believe it or not. He’s sort of amazing. He said he couldn’t go out to eat with two little ones, so he’d learn to cook.”
“Huh. That soup was pretty good.” Looked like more than just the kids had changed in the years he’d been gone. Here at least. He was just the same. Or at least he had been until his leg had gotten screwed up.
“Yeah. He was…bored and lonely and depressed. Cooking made him feel useful again.”
JP didn’t know what to say to that. He was an asshole, but they both already knew that.
“I’ll go grab you food. I—” He got a quick glance. “I don’t think Ian knows how to ask you what you want the kids to call you.”
“I was Dad before I got traded.” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even checked in for three years. He’d told himself it was too hard, that Ian didn’t want him to. The man had told him if he left to not bother coming back, and he’d taken that at face value.
“Dad. Okay.” Mike met his eyes. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that.” So far fucking things up seemed to be what he was best at. Before he would have said it was skating, but he’d surely fucked that big time.
“Try. It’s worth it.” Mike disappeared, and he heard talking, the clinking and clanking of dishes, then Ian was there with a tray.
“Ginger ale and mac and cheese. There’s a couple of cookies too, if you want them.”
He actually wasn’t nauseated at the moment. The first time since he’d been hurt. “Yeah, I’ll take some cookies.”
“They’re chocolate chip and pecan.” Ian smiled at him, the expression nervous. “Did you want salt and pepper?”
“You made the cookies yourself?” JP asked. “Mike told me you learned to cook.”
Ian lips quirked in a half-smile. “I did. I didn’t want the twins to starve.”
“You could have ordered in all the time.” He certainly had. Or at least survived off the prepped meals the team’s chef provided. He’d lost count of how many solitary meals he’d eaten in front of the TV in his apartment.
“That’s no fun, and not healthy for baby bodies.” He got a look. “Or giant bodies.”
“I’m not a giant,” he growled. He took a forkful of the mac ‘n cheese. Just like the soup hadn’t been from a can, this had definitely not come out of a box. “This is good.” He hadn’t meant to sound surprised, but he was.
“Thanks. Does it need salt or pepper?” Ian seemed a little nervous.
“Nah, it’s good just like it is.” He had a few more bites, drank a bit more of his ginger ale. “I appreciate this, you know? You taking me in.” He didn’t care if he owned the house; this was Ian’s place.
Ian opened his hands. “You’re my husband. This is your home. What else would I do?”
He shrugged. He didn’t know. He was hurt and lost, and Ian had taken him in, despite their past. “Well, thank you.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting so badly. It sucks for you.” Ian looked down and then back up. “Would you like to say good night to the kids?”
“Sure. If you think I won’t scare them.”
“They’ll never be comfortable if you don’t see them.”
He took a deep breath. “Then let’s do it.”
“Okay. They’re getting their jammies on, and we’ll be in. Go ahead and eat.”
“Thanks, it’s good.” He knew he’d already said that, but it bore repeating.
Ian went off, and he finished the entire bowl, then nibbled on the cookies. Okay, these were really good. Like really.
He wished that—
The curtain twitched, and Ian stood there with Peter and Victoria. “Hey, guys. This is your dad.”
“Hey.” He gave them his best camera smile, going for friendly and not scary. “The last time I saw you guys you were just this big.” He put hands out in front of him, about a foot between them.
Victoria stared at him, head tilting. “You are the hockey-man?”
Not anymore.
Still, he nodded his head. “And you’re Victoria.”
“Uh-huh. Dis Petey. My brudder.” She hugged Peter hard. “He’s nice.”
“Hi, Peter. It’s nice to meet you again.” He waved, and Peter waved back, little fingers opening and closing.
God, that was cute. His smile widened, became more natural.
“You hurt yous leg?” Victoria asked.
“I did. I hurt it really bad.” Well, the guy who’d slammed into him had hurt it, but he figured Victoria didn’t need the details.
She frowned. “Sorry. Daddy kiss it?”
He looked over at Ian, one eyebrow raised.
“Maybe when it doesn’t hurt so bad, baby girl.”
“No, Daddy. You kiss!”
“She’s convinced I’m magical.” Ian stepped up and gently kissed his thigh.