Page 8

Story: Man Advantage

CAM

I could tell by Trev’s gait that Bryan’s departure hadn’t gone well. They’d been out there a little longer than I’d expected, and now Trev was practically shuffling through the foyer and back toward the kitchen.

And like, was I even surprised? Though things had settled down enough for us to get through that uncomfortable conversation, the animosity between them had been impossible to ignore.

The first couple of minutes after they’d gone outside, I’d just closed my eyes and taken a few deep breaths, relieved that was over.

Trev hadn’t had a chance to decompress, and from the way he was moving—from the way he looked ready to faceplant on the nearest horizontal surface—I suspected he’d been far more stressed by the whole thing than I was.

I rose from the couch to join him in the kitchen. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He gave a heavy sigh as he trudged to the fridge. “I need a beer. You want one?”

“Uh. Sure. Yeah. I’ll take one.”

He pulled out two bottles, cracked them open, and handed me one. In silence, we moved back to the couch where we’d sat earlier. He dropped onto the cushion, then he took a deep pull from his beer. With a heavy sigh, he let his head fall back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Ugh. Seeing him like that was heartbreaking.

Some part of me struggled to fathom the two of them together.

That there’d ever been a time when they were all about being in love and planning a future and starting a family.

They’d married and adopted kids. They’d built a house.

It was hard to picture that with the way they were now.

Except I knew all too well how a relationship could take a hard downward turn, leaving a smoldering crater where love and a future used to be.

I sipped my beer. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He wiped a hand over his face. With a heavy sigh, he pressed his beer bottle to his forehead. “I swear, he and I were happy once.”

God, that was heartbreaking. The exhaustion radiating off him. The sadness and resignation in those words.

“It’s hard when things go south.” Ugh, that sounded so stupid and useless, but I didn’t know what else to say. “You, um… Do you think he’ll still let you hire me? Like, he won’t find some way to weasel out of it?”

“Nah, he won’t try to get out of it.” Trev lowered the bottle and looked at me with exhausted eyes.

“He’s not happy, and he’ll probably find reasons to bitch about you for a while, but he’ll let it go.

” He stared at nothing for a moment. “Honestly, I think once he’s had a few weeks of a normal every-other-week custody agreement during the regular season, he’ll back off. ”

“You do?”

He gestured toward the front of the house with his beer.

“He said something out there about how hard he’s been struggling with having chaotic custody exchanges for half the year.

Where both of our lives are dictated by the team’s schedule, even though he shouldn’t have to deal with that now that we’re not married anymore.

” He brought the bottle up again. “Pretty sure he’ll get over any issues he has with you after his first taste of the new schedule. ”

I thumbed the label on my own beer bottle. “Maybe? I mean, hopefully. But I don’t think he likes me.”

“Dude, I could’ve hired his own mother, and he’d have found reasons to complain,” Trev grumbled. “He used to be really chill and easygoing, but ever since we separated, he’s insisted on digging in his heels and pushing back on everything. Literally everything.”

“Exes,” I muttered. “What can you do?”

“Right.” He took another drink. “By the way—that thing about the ice cream toppings…” He gave a little nod. “That probably got his attention and made him realize you actually give a shit.”

“I figured it would.”

He eyed me. “What do you mean?”

“I knew exactly what it meant. But he seemed like the kind of guy who’d try to quiz me and trip me up, so…”

Trev’s eyebrow climbed. “Wait, so you didn’t actually…”

“Pfft. Are you kidding? ‘Ice cream toppings on top instead of mixed in.’” I rolled my eyes. “That is not rocket science, my dude.” Grinning, I added, “But it does tell the uptight dad to knock off the suspicion that the nanny won’t bother reading the manual.”

Trev studied me for a moment, and I was worried he’d get mad that I’d done something admittedly manipulative.

I was about to apologize, but then he laughed and shook his head. “Well-played, my friend. Well-played.”

Oh, thank God.

“You think it actually worked, then?” I grimaced. “And you don’t mind me playing little head games to get your ex off my back?”

He scoffed and flailed his hand. “Are you kidding? The way he started coming at you sideways the minute you sat down, I wouldn’t have complained if you’d torn into him.

Your approach was even better, though. Play a little stupid, make it obvious you care enough about the boys to ask questions—” He raised his beer in a mock toast, then took a drink.

I laughed, more than a little relieved that I hadn’t crossed a line. “Okay, so it worked. And there are few things in the world that everyone will agree on—one of them is that slimy, wilted lettuce is disgusting.”

Trev chuckled. “You’re not wrong.” He sighed and played with the label on his beer bottle. “I’m sorry he was such an ass to you at first, though.”

“Seems like he was mostly being an ass to you. Either directly or”—I gestured at myself—“by proxy.”

He grunted. “Still. I didn’t want you to be caught in the crossfire. If we could’ve swung this whole arrangement without you ever having to meet him, I would have.”

“I had to, though,” I said softly. “I understood that.”

“I know. It just sucks.” Trev’s gaze turned distant. “Everything about it fucking sucks.”

I watched him curiously, unsure if I should press. On the other hand, we were already on the subject, so we might as well go there.

I pulled my feet up under me and rested my beer on my knee. “What happened, anyway? Between the two of you?” I paused. “If, uh… If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He took another swig of beer, then set the bottle on a coaster on the end table.

Tilting his head back, he stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t even know, honestly. Like, there isn’t just one thing.

I mean, I caught him cheating, so that was what ended it, but we were in trouble long before that ever happened.

If he hadn’t cheated, I think we still would’ve ended up divorced just because we were…

I don’t even know. It was a lot of little shit snowballing over time. ”

“So, death by a thousand cuts?”

“Something like that.” His eyes fluttered shut as he sighed.

“I guess it was just… like all the usual things that can put a strain on a marriage, but we didn’t fix any of them.

We’d argue about them, and we even went to counseling for a little while, but…

” He shook his head and stared up at the ceiling again.

“Nothing changed. Then one day, we could barely stand the sight of each other, and then I caught him cheating, and…” He waved his hand as if to say, do the math .

“That sucks,” I said softly.

“Yeah. It’s probably just as well we separated while the boys were still toddlers.

It’s not ideal, but we split before they were really engaged with the outside world.

Like before they had solid memories of us as a family.

I think it’s easier for them to adapt.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I tell myself, anyway.”

“There’s probably some truth to it,” I said. “I’m no expert on child development, but I think my parents’ divorce would’ve been easier if it happened before I remembered them together.”

He let his head loll toward me. “Yeah?”

“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “I remember them being good together. I remember them falling apart. And I remember the divorce. I think it would’ve been easier if the only thing I really remembered was them being divorced.”

“Maybe?” Trev whispered. “I hope so, anyway. This whole parenting thing has been nonstop trial and error, and I just hope the errors I’ve made haven’t completely messed up my kids.”

“I highly, highly doubt they have. You obviously love them and want what’s best for them. Bryan obviously does too. I’m sure you’ve both made plenty of mistakes, but like, remember how often our parents fucked up?”

He managed a soft laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

“Right, and we turned out okay. The people whose childhoods messed them up—they’re the ones with parents who actually mistreated them, you know? Even at their worst, none of our parents did that. And I can’t imagine you mistreating anyone except another hockey player who pisses you off.”

Trev snorted. “Hey. That’s not mistreatment. Fighting is part of hockey.”

“Like that guy you sucker-punched during the playoffs?”

He barked a real laugh. “I didn’t just punch him out of the blue.”

I arched an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. “He slashed our goalie. After the whistle. And then like three seconds later, he shoved our captain, who was still getting up after a dirty check.” Trev gestured with his beer.

“If he didn’t want to get punched in the face, he shouldn’t have been acting like somebody who wanted to get his face punched. ”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

He chuckled, and then he looked at me with a more serious expression. “You’re right, though. About the rest of it. We’re going to make mistakes with the boys.” Sighing, he pressed back against the couch. “I just hope the ones we make and the ones we’ve made…”

“I really think you’re fine.”

“Eh. We’ll see, I guess.”