Page 20 of Actions and Reactions (All It Takes #5)

Ivan

I told Laney that I was in a weird headspace hours before the game, and he agreed with me that giving the third and fourth lines more ice time today would be a good thing. It’s the pre-season so they get more time anyway, but I barely got three minutes, as did the whole first line.

They did a great job, really, and we won against San Francisco three to zero.

Our new backup goalie—since Matty left to play for New York—is still green, but I was impressed with how our defense supported him today. His name is Shawn May, and he’s been dubbed November because ... well, because we like to make things complicated.

In any case, November has his first shutout, and everyone’s relaxing after weeks of wondering what our play will be like without Santa.

He was here for fifteen fucking years, so even though we also miss Charlie, it’s not the same.

It’s hard not to think he was the soul of our group, because Bear and Jules are as well, but still.

.. we felt his absence today, especially on the bench.

I stare down at my feet as we walk down the tunnel back to our brand new, fucking awesome locker room.

Is it dumb that it doesn’t seem so awesome now?

After everything that happened yesterday, the only moments when I’ve felt a glimmer of lightness have been when I was on the ice, and I don’t know how I’m going to get back to myself now.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Milkman staring up ahead openmouthed.

“What?” In answer he points forward.

I look and then I break into a run.

It’s a miracle I don’t shout “Mommy,” for all my teammates to hear, but I do bowl into her and wrap her in a tight hug. I drop my stick and can breathe just a bit easier when her arms come around my neck. With all my gear on I can’t really feel the warmth of her hug, but it’s enough for now.

“Hi, baby,” she croons.

It is a bit ridiculous, but I get choked up.

Gab was right I suppose. I did need my mom.

The guys get all nervous around her, as they always do.

Having a supermodel for a mom means I’ve experienced this from teammates—except Si—all my life, and though I should probably be used to it, it’s never not going to be weird and cringy how they fan all over her as if she were Princess Leia or some shit.

But it does mean I’m the first in the showers and the first out .

Bear and Jules are the only ones talking to her when I come out, still half dressed in gear, and from her worried frown I know they’re talking about me. That won’t do.

I can tell her about my problems myself, thank you very much.

“I’m ready,” I announce loudly.

She turns her million-dollar—literally—smile on me, and I shoulder my duffel.

“You don’t have to go talk to the press?”

I swallow hard, because last season it was Silas coming in here after every game telling us who’d been selected for slaughter. No one came in here today, at least not that I heard, and that’s just another kick in the balls I didn’t need.

“Nope,” I tell her simply, then grab her hand and pull her out of the room, only sparing a moment to send Jules and Bear a chin lift.

“That was rude,” she mutters, in that quintessential Mom voice.

“It wasn’t. They were probably telling you how I’m not myself today but that I’ve been doing pretty well all season, and you know exactly why I was doing well and why I’m not anymore, so there was little left to discuss.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and that’s all I need to know that I’m right.

“I brought your car,” she says, easily changing the subject.

“Gab sent a car for me to the airfield, and they let me into the practice rink and handed me your keys.” She holds them up, and I let go of her hand to snatch them away, but she closes her fist around them and tsks at me.

“Nah-ah- ah, I’m driving. You’re in no state.

” She sounds just like Gab did last night.

I don’t know why she thinks that. I barely played and I’m not the one in the hospital, but it’s such a small thing that I’m not going to waste any energy debating it with her.

“How long can you stay?” I ask instead. She has a busy life, a husband and stepson who will surely miss her and a company to run. I know it’ll be a week at most, no matter how much I wish it could be more.

“For around three months, I’d say.”

“What?” Her casual tone doesn’t sit right with me. “You can’t be away from home for so long,” I argue. “You have your job and Michael and Eli.”

“Believe me, they can fend for themselves.” She rolls her eyes as we walk into the players’ parking lot. “They’ll come visit, I’m sure, and you’ll have your away games, which means I’ll go home and come back.”

I don’t have much to say to that. I’m floored by it for a long moment, grateful beyond anything I can express, but when I can breathe normally again, the three-month comment gets me thinking. Why three? Why not two? Or four for that matter?

I bet Gab isn’t the only one she talked to yesterday or today.

“What do you know?”

“Get in the car, Ivan,” is all she says. I’m way too relieved to have her here to start hammering at her to tell me, word for word, everything Aunt Elle has told her, so I open the back door and throw my duffel in .

I haven’t seen or spoken to Silas in more than twenty-four hours, and this time it’s worse than it was after Bear’s wedding, because this time I’m the one who left and won’t answer him when he texts. Not that he has, as far as I know.

Before I can remind myself I do have some dignity, I take my phone out of my duffel and then get into the passenger seat. I manage to resist for a minute while I watch Mom’s way-too-satisfied smile as she pets the steering wheel like it’s a dog or something.

“Glad you like the Benz, Mom.”

“It drives like a dream,” she says reverently, then finally puts it in reverse. “It’s been so long since I’ve driven around by myself.”

“That’s true, so why don’t you have your security detail with you?” As a supermodel, she’s easily recognizable, but we didn’t need security growing up, not when she had Dad around her most of the time in LA.

When she married Michael Ellsworth, though—a billionaire who’s notorious for not giving in to pressure and makes sure all his TV networks, production companies, magazines, and newspapers report the truth—he hired bodyguards for her.

It’s only when she’s with Dad or me or Lex that they keep their distance, like at the cabin.

Her bodyguards were nearby in another rental then, but left us alone most of the time, otherwise she doesn’t go anywhere without them.

We might not be trained fighters or anything, but we Jankowskis are built like trucks and know how to throw our weight around.

Besides, people still remember watching Dad beat the shit out of other players on the ice, and no one wants to provoke him.

“Since no one knows I’m here, they agreed to set up at the apartment we rented in your building while I got your car and all that. They knew I’d come straight to the game and nothing would happen while I was at the arena.”

“But now your face is probably on national television, so you’ll take them with you when you go out, right?” The edge of tension in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I never take unnecessary risks, Vin.” She pats my leg reassuringly.

I know it must get tiring, having your kids, your husband, your ex-husband, and your nephews I’m sure, hounding you about your security, but we all do it out of love, and I’m grateful she understands that.

“Your dad wanted to come, but with Paul here, he has to stay in LA for the show.”

“I know, and I understand,” I tell her urgently, but I know I’m going to have to call Dad so he doesn’t worry about me too much. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Oh, honey.” The way she says it, so understanding.

“I know you think you have to deal with everything by yourself, but you really don’t.

You have Patrick to help you out with so much of your career, don’t you?

” she asks, mentioning my agent. “And you have your teammates with you, because you can’t play every position or every shift.

You have your coaches, and so many others who are there to help you be in a position where you give the best of yourself to the team. ”

“I know, but?—”

“Life outside of hockey is the same,” she interrupts me. “You can’t do everything by yourself, and you never have to, okay?”

I think about mentioning how she had to do a lot by herself when she was younger, when my Uncle Oscar died and Aunt Shell couldn’t be there for my cousins, but I think she was already friends with Dad back then. So she wasn’t actually alone.

And though I know Silas isn’t alone right now, like me he has his parents there with him, I do want to be there for him too. I swear I do. But how am I supposed to help him when I can’t even make heads or tails of my own thoughts and feelings?

“Thank you, Mom,” I whisper, and finally wake up my phone.

There are more texts there than I expected... a lot more.

Because it’s easier, and because I know I’ll hopefully find some encouragement before I deal with the big text I can see Si sent, I open Lex’s text thread first.

Lex:

I’m here for you, bro. Always.

Call me when you get the chance.

Lottie:

I love you, Vinny .

That simple text chokes me up more than is reasonable, and then...

Aunt Elle:

We just got here. Where are you?

That was last night, only a few minutes after I left the hospital, I realize. And that makes me feel better, because Si was only alone for a few minutes. But there are more that came in this morning.

Aunt Elle:

We talked to his doctors and they told us a little bit of what happened.

I’m sorry, sweetheart.

You’ll both get through this.

And don’t you worry, we’ll get through to him.

I don’t even know what that means.

Making him understand he’s not okay? That he’s so much more than a hockey player? That he deserves more?

Or is it about me?

God, I don’t think our parents know that we’ve been together for the past couple of months... like actually together. Sure, we didn’t really talk about it, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Not in the grand scheme of things.

Our relationship is just starting. We were just getting into the swing of things here, but maybe we really weren’t.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next .

I don’t know if I have the strength to deal with whatever is in those texts.

I’ve purposely not thought about Si all day, or tried not to at least, but that obviously won’t get me anywhere.

I said in the hospital room that I need to figure out whether I can live with Si never loving me as much as he loves hockey, and it’s time to try doing that.

So while Mom drives down the highway on our way to the Strip, I finally open Si’s messages.

I see all the text, but scroll up to the start and see he sent a picture. I’m confused at first, but when I zoom in I see the diagnosis and the recommended treatment.

I’m definitely going to google what the fuck it all means, but now I desperately want to read what he has to say.

Silas:

I don’t know why I didn’t say anything yesterday, but I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I didn’t.

Apparently I’m insane, which I’m sure you won’t be surprised by, but my parents are taking me to this place near Lottie where I’m going to try and get better.

I don’t want us to not speak for years again, Vinny.

You’re the only person in the world who knows me, and I’m including myself in that.

I think that might have something to do with this whole PTSD thing.

Mom said something about a three-month program, but hopefully I’ll be able to text you while I’m in there.

I really am sorry.

And I’ll be back once I’m better.

“Oh, God.” My whisper comes out broken, and my eyes fill up immediately. The pain and heartbreak I’ve been avoiding all day comes back like an unyielding tidal wave.

It’s so inconvenient that I did this while Mom’s driving and can’t hug me. I cover my face with my hands as sobs overtake me.

What am I supposed to write back? Should I say anything at all?

“What’s wrong, baby?” Mom asks, reaching blindly for my arm.

“He just—fuck, Mom,” I groan. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t understand how this can hurt so much again. Why did this have to happen again ?

“We’re almost there, just one more block.” Her grip tightens around my forearm with the same urgency that’s in her voice.

He’s coming back.

He wants to get better.

He thinks he’s insane and that he doesn’t know who he is.

And that I’m the only one who really knows him, even more than he knows himself.

I don’t know about that, not anymore. I was so busy “giving him time,” trying not to spook him with my love, that I stopped seeing him .

Maybe the Silas I know is no longer who he is. Maybe he never will be.

But he’ll be back .

Whatever happens when he is, I better be sure by then who it is I love and what I can have with him.

Mom opens my door, and I didn’t even realize we were in my building’s underground garage, but the way she hugs me reminds me I’m still crying.

We stay like that for a while, until I can finally stop.

“Thank you, Mom.” I kiss her cheek then finally lean back.

Her blue eyes shine with unshed tears. She was never one to hold back. I got my impulsiveness from her, but I have been holding back, and I think it’s time I stop that.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” She cups my cheek and wipes away another tear that’s falling.

“I think I fucked up, Mom. If I’d just let things be, then maybe he’d be okay.” The raspiness in my voice betrays just how devastated I am. The tears helped, but only a little, and only for a moment.

“I really don’t think you have that much power, honey,” she murmurs and combs my hair away from my face.

“I’m the only one who knows him,” I tell her, and she doesn’t have an answer to that.