Chapter 5 #2
They walked from their cabin down to the path that wound alongside the lake.
Other campers were out and about, headed to or from various activities.
Canoes and paddleboats broke the stillness of the water and laughter floated on the faint breeze.
From the little book he’d perused, he knew there’d be a campfire cookout for those seeking a more casual dining experience for the night.
And there was some sort of an opening session dance later, followed by campfire s’mores, which, according to the brochure, were not to be missed.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a s’more.
The restaurant was located inside the main lodge. A low murmur of voices told him they weren’t the only ones with this as their dinner destination. A half-dozen people milled around in the lobby near the hostess stand.
“Table for two, please.”
The hostess checked her book. “It’s going to be a few minutes. Would you like to wait here or at the bar?”
A glance in the direction of the latter told him there were a lot more people to contend with. “Here’s fine.”
“I have you down, sir.”
“You don’t need my name?”
Her lips curved. “No, sir.”
“Okay, then.” He nudged Aspen to the side, so they’d be out of the way.
She tucked herself close to his side. “Does that happen often? Being recognized?”
“More so back home than anywhere else. But also in New York. I spent several years in the area at the start of my career. I’m not sure exactly what the deal is here, except that maybe my teammates who booked this place asked for some kind of VIP treatment.
Or maybe one of the owners is a hockey fan.
” It didn’t matter to him, so long as people stayed respectful. Preferably at a distance.
“Oh my God. You’re Brooks Hennessy!”
You know better than to challenge the Universe like that.
Bracing himself, Brooks turned to face the newcomer, a nineteen or twenty-something kid with veritable stars in his eyes. “Guilty as charged.”
“Man! I’m a big fan. Could I possibly get your autograph?”
Fan service was part of the gig, so he tamped down any annoyance. “Sure.”
The kid patted his pockets and came up with a rewards card from a frozen yogurt place. The hostess offered a pen. Brooks signed the card and handed it over.
The boy looked at him as if he’d hung the moon. “Thank you!”
“No problem.” Brooks turned back to Aspen.
“And I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about your mom.”
The condolences blindsided him, even though this had happened a lot in the weeks after her death. Aspen curled her arm through his and squeezed, pressing close, grounding him in the moment, and he was so damned grateful not to be alone in all of this.
“Thank you.” It was barely a mumble.
“Could I get a selfie?”
Brooks could only stare at the guy’s hopeful expression, his gut in far too many knots of fresh grief.
A soft hand curled around his arm. “You’re so sweet, but my fiancé and I are really just here for a nice meal and some downtime. You understand.”
Brooks covered that hand with his, squeezing in mute gratitude as Aspen came to his rescue yet again.
The kid looked to her, his cheeks coloring. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Um, congratulations! Thank you for the autograph.”
Thankfully, the hostess returned to take them to their table, saving him from further conversation.
Once seated in a reasonably private little alcove by the unlit fireplace, their server materialized to take their drink orders.
“Bourbon on the rocks.” Just one, to dull this stab of fresh pain.
“Whatever the house red is, please.”
Once the server disappeared again, Aspen leaned toward him. “It has to be really hard.”
“What?”
“The fact that your grief has been very public.”
His gaze flashed to hers.
“I didn’t look anything up. And I’m not going to, because whatever is out there for public consumption probably isn’t the truth.
So I don’t know anything about this more than what I’ve observed.
But if random strangers are coming up and asking for your autograph and making these remarks, it’s obviously out there, and that’s got to be hard. ”
A huge part of his attraction to this woman was the fact that she didn’t really know who he was as a public figure.
That, even now, she was trying to get to know him for him was a really big deal.
So he didn’t blow off the comment. “Yeah. In fact, it sucks. The details of her death aren’t out there, but that doesn’t stop people from commenting. ”
He waited for her to ask what had happened. To pry for more information. But she didn’t do any of that. She simply sat, waiting quietly, giving him the space to tell her whatever he wanted. Even if it was nothing at all.
So he found himself speaking. “It was… an illness. She didn’t tell me she was sick. I don’t even know how long she was sick. So when she died, it was completely unexpected. And it fucked with my head.”
Her hand covered his on the table. “Of course it did. That’s awful.”
Their server returned with drinks and to take their orders. Neither of them had even looked at the menu.
“Steak. Medium rare. Loaded potato. Steamed veggies.” That seemed a safe enough bet.
“The special for me. Thanks, sugar.”
With a quick nod, the server disappeared again.
Brooks could have used the interruption to change the subject, but he didn’t. “I shouldn’t have been playing right after she died. I jacked up my team’s chances in the playoffs. Which is the other reason that I’m big in the news right now.”
She picked up her wine and sipped. “Is that why you’re up here? Escaping?”
“Somewhat. I caved up the last few weeks since the funeral. I took care of all the things. It’s offseason right now for us.
” Remembering she knew nothing of “sportsball,” he explained, “The normal hockey season starts in October, and the playoffs usually begin around mid-April. We were kicked out of the running in mid-May. I’ve basically got the summer to get my shit together and decide what I want to do before pre-season training starts. ”
“What do you mean?”
He could’ve talked about the likelihood of being traded. Of all the professional implications. But instead, he talked about where he’d started. “I put on my first pair of skates when I was five. My mom used to take me as soon as the ice was thick enough.”
“Like… outside?”
“That is the norm where I’m from in Michigan.”
Aspen pointed to herself. “Georgia, remember? There’s nothing normal about frozen lakes to us. Did you have a Hans?”
“A what?”
“A Hans.” She flashed a smile. “You’ll have to forgive me. The sum total of my knowledge about hockey comes from Disney’s The Mighty Ducks, and if I remember correctly, the old dude who supported Gordon was Hans.”
Impossibly, Brooks laughed. How could she do that?
Give him laughter in the middle of the grief?
“No. Just my mom. She was the one who first put a stick in my hands. I declared when I was six that I wanted to go pro. And instead of telling me ‘That’s nice, dear, now go get a real job,’ Mom encouraged me.
She did everything she could to support me.
Worked extra jobs to cover the costs of equipment and fees.
She was my number one biggest fan. She came to all of my games, going from peewee on up to the pros.
When I landed a slot in the AHL—that’s more or less minor league hockey—she could not possibly have been prouder.
She was how I got from that skinny little six-year-old kid skating on a pond to playing for one of the top teams in the nation. ”
“But you’re thinking of leaving?”
He hadn’t said that, but she’d evidently read between the lines.
Brooks jerked his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know.
I’m not sure my heart is in it anymore. I don’t know if I can get back out there, if I can play the way I need to play to continue to merit being considered a pro, without knowing she’s there cheering me on. ”
Aspen took his hand and squeezed. For a long moment, they sat in silence. She didn’t try to say anything to diminish his feelings. She just sat with him in the grief. That empathy was a powerful thing.
The arrival of their food broke the moment, and he wondered where she’d steer the conversation next.
After their server disappeared again, Aspen lifted her gaze back to his. “I lost my mom about ten years ago. Also fast. I was a senior in high school. She went to the doctor for a checkup, and three weeks later she was dead.”
“Jesus.” Brooks hadn’t even known his mom was sick, and that had been horrible. But what Aspen described might’ve been worse.
“It wrecked me and my dad.” She said it in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone.
“I skipped my prom to spend time with her in her last days. I didn’t go on my senior trip.
I ended up not leaving home for college.
I switched to an online program, because I couldn’t see leaving him on his own.
And I’ve spent the last decade afraid of everything—of something happening to my dad of…
I don’t know. Starting anything and then losing it. ”
She shook her head with a wry smile. “My mom would be so pissed if she knew I’d done this.
In fact, I’m reasonably sure she’s looking down from heaven going, ‘Girl, what the hell are you doing with your life?’ Which is part of what this trip is about.
She begged me not to wait on life. Not to put things off.
And that’s all I’ve done since she died. ”
This time he was the one who took her hand. “Can I ask what changed your mind? What inspired this whole trip?”
She was quiet for a minute. “My dad’s just remarried a really lovely woman.
He’s moving away to where she lives, a few hours away, and left me the house, and…
It just felt like it was now or never. He’s moving on with his life.
I need to move on with mine and figure out what that looks like.
” Her fingers tightened in his. “Right now, that looks like spending a week at an incredible resort, with a really amazing guy that I didn’t see coming. ”
Brooks thought he understood a little better where she was coming from and why she was doing what she was doing. He could absolutely help her with that. He wanted to help her with that, however he could. And he had a good notion of where to start.
Stroking a thumb along the back of her hand, he smiled. “Well, then how about we start that living by finishing this incredible meal and you leave the rest to me?”