Page 45

CHAPTER

FORTY-FOUR

FORD

Nella is screaming. She’s always, always happy. I don’t know what I did wrong. Mitch is covering his ears, West is searching his music app for soothing baby noises, Bruce is bouncing Nella up and down—something she usually likes—and Colby is playing peek-a-boo with her using her favorite blanket.

I’ve fed her, burped her, and changed her. Still screaming. Now, I’m in the kitchen warming up another bottle. Maybe she’s still hungry?

When I turn and see the remnants of our pizza night spread across my kitchen island, I itch all over. My long-sleeved tee seems to coil tightly around my arms and torso. I take a deep breath. I can get to the mess later, after Nella calms down.

I cannot, under any circumstances, call Amber. She needs to trust that I can take care of Nella. I want her to go out and relax and know that me and Nella are good.

Except right now we are not good.

Rushing back into the living room, I find a baby girl whose face is an angry red, nearly as red as her hair. I gently pull her out of Bruce’s arms, and he heaves a sigh and bends at the waist to rest his hands on his knees. Like he just ran five miles and he’s out of breath.

As soon as the bottle is in Nella’s mouth, she’s gulping it down like she hasn’t been fed all day, even though I know she’s enjoyed her regular feeding schedule.

“Holy shit,” Colby says, running a hand through his dark hair. “She gets even madder than Noel when I coerce her into doing something she doesn’t wanna do.”

“She’s usually so sweet,” I say in defense of Nella. Surprising even myself at how protective I feel.

West, who has classical music playing on his phone now, sticks one finger in the air. He reads out loud to us as he scrolls on his phone. “Aha! Here’s an article on whattoexpect.com that says babies go through a growth spurt around three or four months and may be unusually grouchy and want to cluster-feed.”

Mitch slumps down on the sofa next to me, eyeing Nella like she might explode any moment. “Cluster what?”

“Cluster feeding,” West repeats. “It’s when they want to eat over and over again.”

“Oh, so she has Colby’s appetite?” Bruce teases, earning a shove that almost sends him into my television.

I close my eyes and try to take a few, deep steadying breaths. It’s not working. The mess, the noise, the stress, the guys shoving each other. I hand Nella to a very confused Mitch and sit with my head between my legs. It feels like all the chaos and stress and drama of the last three weeks is hitting me all at once. Internally I’m panicking, feeling like I’m failing Amber and Nella by being so overwhelmed. Why can’t I pull it together? If there was just less noise, or less…something.

I feel a broad hand on my back, and West’s voice asks, “You okay, man? What do you need? ”

I don’t respond—I can’t. I can’t open my eyes or get the words to form in my mouth. If there was a desk to climb under, I’d probably be under there. I’ve reverted back to my childhood self. Everything is too loud and too tight and too much. Slowly, I stick one hand into the pocket of the joggers I changed into before the guys came over. I run my fingers across the familiar, stupid coin that rests there. It doesn’t bring me the solace it once did. And I know exactly why. Because all I want right now is Amber. I want her to caress my back with her soothing touch, I want her to kiss my temple with her pillow-soft lips, and I want her sweet voice to tell me I’m okay in her sweet voice. None of these big, ugly dudes can do what she can. Not even my coin has the same effect as my wife.

My wife . I want my wife. I want her to talk to me until I forget what’s going on outside of the two of us, just like she did all those years ago, like she’s always done.

But I can’t be codependent, and she deserves better than that. She needs me to be the steady presence in this constant storm of life. I’m her proverbial tornado shelter. With a few more deep breaths, I feel calmer. My clothing is starting to feel normal again, and the noises are quieting around me.

The guys are still, waiting for me to speak. Waiting for me to act like a damn adult.

A cool glass of water is thrust in front of my face by one of the lovable dumbasses standing in my living room. I take the glass and chug it, finally feeling level-headed and like my head isn’t detaching from my body.

“Guys, I’m sorry. My brain just got overwhelmed.”

I hear a soft pounding sound and glance over to see Nella propped up on Mitch’s shoulder, he’s patting her back to burp her.

At my surprised expression, he shrugs. “What? I listened to an audiobook about parenting, and it said babies should be burped halfway through their feeding.”

Colby arches a brow. “We’re definitely coming back to that in a second.” He turns to me. “Can you tell us what just happened? Or what’s going on?”

I inhale a deep breath and exhale it out of my mouth. “The past month has been…insane. I learned about Amber’s heart, then we got married, and she had her procedure. My mom and sister were here helping. A-a-and it’s just been a lot. It’s been constant change, which I’m not great at handling. But I put on a brave face for Amber. Because I love her, and I’d do anything for her, you know?” I’m panting, breathless from talking so fast. And I realize I’ve never spoken those words out loud… I love her.

Suddenly, I recall my conversation with Amber and her encouragement to tell my teammates about my autism. That I could trust them with it. This is the perfect time to tell them, to be honest. And it would help them understand why I was so overwhelmed just now.

I bite my bottom lip, thinking of what I want to say then I stand up, my legs no longer feeling shaky. “There’s more. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you all. I haven’t been completely honest about myself.”

Looking down at my feet, I contemplate my words. But Colby chuckles and comes up beside me.

He slaps me on the back, hard. “I knew it! I could tell by the way you ogle me in the locker room. I mean, who wouldn’t though?”

I shove him—away from the television, not toward it. “I’m not gay, you dumbass.”

Colby dusts off the front of his shirt. “I was joking, anyway.”

We all roll our eyes, knowing he’s only half-kidding .

“I have high-functioning autism—er, Aspergers—whatever they’re calling it these days.”

West takes a step toward me. “Why didn’t you tell us before now? We wouldn’t judge you, man.”

“I know.” I hang my head, ashamed for having not trusted my closest friends with this. “It’s just that the NHL was this big opportunity to create a new identity for myself, and when people hear the word autism , they treat me differently.”

I hear a muddled burp from Nella and turn my head toward her. Mitch appears pleased by the burp, switches her to his other arm and unceremoniously plops the bottle back in her mouth. She sucks contentedly, not caring who’s holding her as long as there’s milk.

Mitch looks up at me like there’s nothing strange about this whole situation. “How did they treat you differently?”

Shuffling on my feet, I think back to college, when my teammates found out I received special tutoring because I have autism. They weren’t mean, necessarily, just fascinated.

“Back in college my teammates discovered I have autism, and they immediately found a box of pencils and threw them on the floor. Probably a hundred pencils scattered in every direction.” I drag a hand down my face. Still embarrassed by the debacle. “They all stared at me, expecting something. And when I asked them why the hell they threw pencils everywhere, they said in the movie Rain Man , someone drops a box of matches and the character who has autism counts them in like a half a second or something.”

West’s jaw drops in horror. “They didn’t”

I nod wearily. “They did.”

Mitch huffs a laugh through his nose. “I get why you’d want to keep it to yourself, but I’m also glad you finally trusted us enough to share it with us. Sharing hurtful things about our pasts helps us heal. ”

We all turn to stare at Mitch, our usually broody and quiet teammate.

“What? I learned that in therapy,” he says, turning his attention back to Nella, who has pulled off the bottle and is now smiling at Mitch like he’s the best thing she’s ever seen. He grunts. “Hey, kid.”

“Mitch is right.” Colby nods his head. “This helps us understand you too, and now when you need space, we’ll get it. And we won’t pester you.”

I quirk an eyebrow, and he shrugs. “Okay, we’ll probably still pester you.”

Sitting back down, I lean my elbows on my knees. “I feel like a fraud. I act like this competent NHL captain when really, I’m watching you guys to pick up on social cues so I’m not awkward.”

West laughs. “Dude. You don’t need to be Mr. Congeniality to be an amazing captain. Most captains would’ve never put a brand-new player on the first line. They wouldn’t have given him the chance. But you look at skills and how people work together on the ice. You lead us well, Remy.”

Bruce nods. “Agreed. Can you imagine if Colby was team captain? He’d just try to get more camera time.”

Colby narrows his eyes at him. “I don’t have to try to get more camera time. The camera guys love me.”

Bruce rolls his eyes and walks over to where Mitch is sitting and holding Nella. “Can I have her back now?”

Mitch growls. “No.”

“You’re the only real adult out of all of us, man. I’m afraid you have no choice but to lead us. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Social cues be damned.” Colby playfully punches my shoulder.

“Thanks, guys. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve such incredible teammates. Then other times I want to convince Coach and Tom to trade all of you.” I smirk so they know I’m joking.

Bruce grins, planting his hands on his hips in a superman pose. “Guys, I think we need to hug it out.”

Mitch and I say no at the same time.