Page 48

The trip home is painful. In more ways than one.

My cock has been hard since Leah opened the door wearing the sheets we were tangled in the night before. Since that kiss.

Arousal and motion sickness is not a pleasant combination, but I suffer through. I want to go sit with Leah, but I take up way too much space and I don’t want to be sick all over her.

My pain worsens when I get back to my apartment and real life crashes into me. It must’ve crashed into Leah too. The whisper of trepidation that has lingered in the back of my mind returns in full force when she texts me.

Leah Harrison

I can’t do this to Levi if you aren’t staying

I read between the lines on that one. She can’t do this to herself either if I’m not staying.

I understand

Conflict rages through me. I’m so fucking in love with this woman it’s physically painful to be away from her. I can’t concentrate on anything when all I can think about is her.

Is she alright? How was Levi after the trip? How’s the brace research coming along? Did Ian show up again?

That last worry idles. I know the judge rejected the joint custody request Ian put in, but last I heard, he was still going for visitation rights. What, is he going to move here? I want to whisk Leah and Levi away to Montreal and out of his reach.

But I know that wouldn’t stop a man like him. He’d follow them anywhere to get what he wants.

I’m struck with the realization that I would follow them anywhere too. It might not be up to me, though. July 1st is coming soon. Canada Day. Free Agency Day. Contract renewal, trading, and draft picks.

My contract with the Whales is complete. If I want to retire, now’s the time. Announce to the world I’m done. All I have to do is call Whyatt and tell him I’m retiring or I want to continue playing and risk the potential trade.

A wave of uneasiness overwhelms me when I think about it. Who am I if I’m not a goalie? Without a purpose, can I even be the man Leah and Levi need? I don’t know if I have it in me to be a good father. I don’t want her to feel like she has to support me and stick with me because I gave up my career for her .

I don’t want her to feel trapped.

I want her to ask me to stay.

I know she won’t.

For the same reason I won’t ask her to move to wherever I get traded.

Running doesn’t help quiet the thoughts coursing at full speed through my head. A mix of worry, doubt, love, hope, and the unknown. Nothing can quiet my thoughts. I need someone to talk to.

“Hello? Julien?” My dad answers on the first ring.

Guilt settles in my stomach. It’s been a while since I’ve reached out. But it feels good to slip back into French.

“Hey, Dad.”

“You good, son?”

Right, because the only time I call him is if something is wrong. I think the last time I called was when I dislocated my hip.

“How’s ...” Shit, I forgot the name of his newest wife. “Life?” Nice save, jackass.

My dad huffs a laugh. “Life is good. Mel left me about a month ago.”

The guilt grows. He didn’t call me.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

We both know that’s not the truth. I couldn’t even remember her name. My brain doesn’t bother to register the women in my dad’s life anymore. Anger replaces my guilt. Anger at myself, anger at him. I choke it down.

“How’s your hip?” he asks, steering the subject to safer territory .

“Hip is good, back to normal. I ran a half marathon last weekend.”

“Good for you.”

There’s silence over the line. Not a comfortable one either. The stiffness radiates between us, years of unspoken words and disappointment taking up too much space.

Why did I call him? This was my dad’s fifth marriage. What does he know about committing to someone? Sacrificing for someone?

“Julien?” My dad breaks the silence first.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I miss you.” Three small words. I don’t know how to feel about them. Before I can formulate a response, he continues. “I hope you’re coming home soon.”

Home.

I think of Montreal, with its long history and people who are a little too snobby for their own good. But also the food, the culture, the rolling hills and the trees in the fall.

I miss the reds and oranges, somehow more brilliant and vibrant than they are here. I miss hearing my first language all around me. I miss the feeling of being in a separate place, of being in Canada but also in our own world we’ve carved out. And it’s on the other side of the country.

The thing is, though there’s been heavy talk of Montreal trading for me, it may not happen. The Whales might want to keep me. I could end up all the way down in Florida if that’s what they choose .

I have no control, and I used to want that. I liked that I didn’t have to be the one to tell my dad I couldn’t come back. It wasn’t on me to make the decision.

But now it is.

I use the courage Leah has given me simply by being a strong presence in my life and ask the question that’s plagued me for as long as I can remember.

“Why did Colleen leave?” I’ve never been able to call the woman “Mom.” Kind of like how Leah refers to Ian as Levi’s sperm donor.

He hesitates and, for a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer me.

“It was a different time. Even thirty-six years ago, a white woman with a black man wasn’t as accepted as it is now.” He sounds resigned. It does nothing but make me angrier.

“Her family cut her off when she married me. She was devastated,” he continues.

“So she turned around and did the same thing to us?”

He sighs heavily, as though he’s waited thirty-six years for this conversation.

“She loved you.” The words hold no meaning for me. Especially now that I’ve seen what a mother’s love can look like. Maggie and Leah have shown me what the word means.

“Not enough to stay.”

“Sometimes even love isn’t enough. People are not black and white. Excuse the pun.” He chuckles at his own joke.

And isn’t that the crux of the matter. I love Leah. I love Levi. And I haven’t made the decision to stay .

He stays quiet, as if he knows I need to process.

“And she’s never reached out?”

“I told her not to.” His voice is now hard, pained.

That makes two of us. “Why the hell not?”

“I grew up with a flighty mother. The woman would breeze in and out of my life, taking pieces of my heart with her every time she went. The hope damn near broke me. I didn’t want that for you. A clean break had to be better than living the way I did.”

When he puts it like that, I can understand. My anger shouldn’t be directed at him anyway. It’s for the woman who didn’t love me enough to stay. But he wasn’t perfect.

“But you ended up doing that to me anyway, Dad. You married woman after woman. When I was little, I thought each one would be my mom. And they left, they always did.” I feel the accusation hit him and I try to ignore the pressure of it.

“I’m sorry.” He’s so quiet, and I hear the frailty in his voice. A reminder of his age. Another reason to go back to Montreal.

“That wasn’t fair of me, Dad, I’m sorry.” Even though he and I both know it’s true, I regret saying it so harshly.

“No, you’re right, Julien. I tried to fill a void and ended up in the exact same place I’d been.”

“But they never stayed long enough to be my mother, so it’s not the same as what you went through. I had just hoped.” Am I reassuring him for his sake or mine? Probably both.

He laughs sadly. “Hope is the worst part of it, isn’t it?”

“Why did Mel leave, Dad?” I force myself to be kind, to say the words with empathy, even though I don’t quite feel it .

“The same reason they all do. Colleen.” I hear it. In the way he says her name. Even after all this time, he loves her.

“Did you ever try to find her?”

“I did. And if you ever want that information for yourself, I have it. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t want it,” I say automatically.

“And that’s fine. But if you ever change your mind, all you have to do is ask.”

My throat swells with emotion. Pity, hurt, anger, shame, confusion. I’m still the little boy who would sit and daydream about his mom being a secret agent, forced to stay away for his own safety.

I’d picture her coming back for me and showing me the letters she wrote to me every single day.

When I was a teenager, I would dream of the police coming to our door to tell us she was dead. Only so I could stop hoping and wishing. So I’d know for sure she was gone and never coming back.

Because she couldn’t, not because she didn’t want to.

In each phase of my life, I wished for something different. Until I was a grown man who couldn’t hold a serious relationship, unable to trust the women in his life, always expecting them to leave.

I never felt that way about Leah. I wonder if that’s because of Levi, because she was the parent who stayed. If, in some part of my mind, that proved she wouldn’t abandon the people she loves.

But does she love me?

“Who is she?” My dad breaks into my thoughts, reaching in to find the real reason I called.

“Her name is Leah,” I surprise myself by saying .

“Leah,” my dad repeats, weighing the sound of her name. “You love her.” It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

“But?”

I hesitate, and then for the first time in my life, I share my feelings with my dad.

“But her life is in Vancouver. And she has a son. So if I want to be with her, I have to stay here.”

He’s so quiet on the other end I check my phone to make sure he’s still there.

“So you aren’t coming home,” he finally says, and again, it’s a statement, not a question.

“I d-don’t know.”

“You want to be with her. What’s there not to know?” He’s guarded now as the conversation I’ve been dreading unfolds in the way I knew it would.

“I know if I st-stay here, I’m leaving you alone. And I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m already alone. Have been since Colleen left,” he says with a sigh. And this response makes my blood boil.

“You weren’t alone. You had me,” I snap.

There’s jostling on the other end, like he’s shaking his head.

“It’s not the same, Julien. I had to provide for you. And I did the best I could.”

There are so many warring feelings inside me. On the one hand, he did provide for me. I understand the sacrifices he made. But would I have given all of this up, all the hockey and all the accomplishments, to have spent more time with him? It’s an impossible question, one I’ll likely never be able to answer.

“I know you did, Dad.”

“Come home, Julien,” my dad says, hurt clear in his voice. It surprises me. I wasn’t expecting him to be so forthcoming about it.

“And lose them?”

“You might lose them anyway,” he says simply. “People change, they want different things. She might change her mind.”

My breath doesn’t come as easily as before as I picture her leaving me. She could. She could leave me. There could come a time when she gets so fed up with me, she decides it’s not worth it. That I’m not worth it.

And I can’t take her away from her family.

My dad continues like he didn’t just nurture the seed of doubt already planted in my mind.

“Loving your mother the way I did broke me. And taught me the only person you can rely on is yourself.”

This thought changes my trajectory. It reminds me of Leah and her refusal to ask for and accept help.

“Would you understand if I stayed?” I ask tentatively.

“I would.” His tone makes it clear he would not be happy about it. And that makes my decision a little easier.

When we hang up, I feel a little lighter, and a little heavier in some aspects. Because what I want to do and what I should do might be two different things.

I pick up the phone and call Whyatt.