Page 5

5

Christian

A s I pull up to Maya’s house for the second day, my fingers grip the steering wheel a little too tight. Despite how well the two hours yesterday afternoon went, it still feels like I’m preparing for the most important game of my life.

Except this time, it’s more important than any game I’ve ever played before. It’s about my son — about proving to Maya that I’m someone Finley can look up to, and that I’m worthy of her trust; that I won’t selfishly run away when I screw up like the idiot boy she dated. I’m not even the same guy that dated Elle. That guy is pretty much dead and gone after I found out that I’m a father. That newsflash felt like having my head beaten in with a hockey stick.

It woke me up to how things could’ve been so different if I hadn’t given up so soon on Maya when she ended things with me. I tried calling, texting, and writing to her for weeks before throwing in the towel. I had to try to move on because her rejection gutted me like nothing before.

Definitely worse than anything my father ever said to me. I grew up knowing he was disappointed in me and eventually accepted it when I decided to pursue a career in hockey. Still, nothing, not even dozens of women or any amount of time, could repair the wounds Maya inflicted.

I knock on the front door and take a deep breath while I wait for it to open. I tried to play it cool with Maya yesterday, but last night when I checked into my lonely hotel room after seeing her, being so close to her again, it felt like my heart and other parts of me would shrivel up and die if I couldn’t touch her.

These past five years since I went pro, I’ve missed her like crazy. The distance and the distractions of puck bunnies helped me get through the worst of it whenever thoughts of her haunted me.

Now, though, I don’t want to leave the house where her and my son sleep, and I don’t have the slightest inkling to be with anyone else ever again. Not just because I want to set a good example for Finley. It’s just how I’ve felt since the first day we met.

When Maya mentioned Preston’s empty room, I would’ve done anything to stay here with her and Finley, even give up my autographed Wayne Gretzky King’s jersey he wore the year they won the championship. It was years before I was even born, but I watched videos of him playing growing up.

But staying the night with Maya and Finley is a long shot right now. I have to play this right, to earn her trust back for Finley’s sake, rather than selfishly try to get her underneath me again.

God, just the thought of the one and only time we had almost-sex makes me want to put that shit off for as long as possible, no matter how much I crave another chance with her.

Nothing, though, is more important than earning her trust as a father to Finley and as a dependable man she can count on to be there for her.

When the front door finally swings open, there my dream girl is, looking like she’s caught somewhere between relief and hesitation.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I think Maya might still have feelings for me too. It’s in the way she still looks at me like I’m hers, hers to command and obey, especially when she’s laying down ground rules, trying to act tough and callous. It’s probably all in my head since I think of her as mine—my home, my future, my everything. That’s how it felt before I ever found out she was the mother of my son.

Yes, she kicked me to the curb after our one horrible night together years ago, but the connection between us was there way before the bad sex.

And I swear I would give anything for a do-over of that night, her first time that I greedily rushed her into and ruined.

Thinking about the other men the love of my life has been with since…no, I can’t go down that road. I don’t want to know who came after me, who made her toes curl the way I should have.

“Are you dating anyone?” I blurt out like an idiot rather than offering her a ‘good morning.’

Maya folds her arms across her delicious looking breasts and frowns with so much displeasure at the personal question that I want to take it back. She’s not mine. I’m not hers. Not yet. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not dating anyone. At least at the moment…”

“Good.”

Narrowing her brown eyes at me, Maya mutters, “You think that it’s good that I’m alone? Well, now I need to go find a date.”

“No, you don’t. I mean, unless you want to. You’re right. It’s none of my business, but I’m glad there’s no one else for you or Finley.”

Her arms remain crossed tight across her cleavage like a shield. Cleavage that’s way more enticing than it was years ago when I fantasized about falling asleep on the bare beauties. Her walls are still up, and I know she’s trying to protect herself — and Finley, too. But I can’t help hoping that there’s still a part of her that wants to let me in.

“So,” I start, keeping my voice casual, “any chance you’ll be joining me and Finn for a little backyard hockey this morning?”

Maya raises a single eyebrow. “You think I don’t have anything more important to do than watch you show off like a preening peacock? I’m already intimately familiar with your stick handling skills.”

Her remark makes me chuckle. A tightness in my chest eases at the easy banter and my shaft lengthens in my cotton shorts because I’m suddenly assaulted with memories. Memories of winning games in a mostly empty arena and then celebrating with a Netflix night in Maya’s dorm room. I remember her timidly asking me on our fifth date to show her how I liked to stroke myself. She wanted to imitate the moves with her small hand. “I used to love trying to impress you when you would come and watch our practices and games in the minor leagues,” I tell her. “Back when I was so broke I could only afford fast food on our dates,” I remind her. “I always wanted to play my best when you were there cheering for us. You were there for me before the money or the fame, unlike the puck bunnies who hang around the arena nowadays, flashing their tits at me like it’ll convince me to buy them shit.” Maya’s eyes widen a second before I realize the words that came out of my mouth. “Fuck! I shouldn’t have said tits or shit!” I apologize in a rush, then slap my palm over my big mouth to keep more filth from coming out of it. Around it, I say, “Sorry. About the t-word, s-word, and the f-bomb. I’ll do better.”

Rather than look furious at my slip, she glances over her shoulder to make sure Finley’s not within hearing distance before she says quietly, “It’s okay. I may have accidentally called you a jackass the other day and got caught.”

My palm falls away from my mouth and my jaw drops open in disbelief. “You called me a jackass in front of my son?”

“No! Well, yes, but he didn’t know I was talking about you,” she replies with a grin. “I told him the jackass was someone at the grocery store. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t…I would never intentionally badmouth you in front of Finley regardless of what may have happened between us…”

Okay, that makes me feel better, the fact that she slips up now and then too and that she’s not filling Finley’s head to make him hate me the way she does, at least.

“I hope you will return the favor, even if you’re married to some woman five years from now who despises me,” Maya says.

“Never,” I assure her, meaning the marriage to some random imaginary woman or talking shit about her in front of our son.

After that remark, Maya stares at me silently for a long moment, her eyes searching mine for… something. I hold her gaze, even if I have no clue what she’s looking for or what she wants from me. Finally, she sighs and glances toward the kitchen, and the door that leads to the backyard. “Maybe I’ll watch you two play for a few minutes today,” she says, her tone flat. “But don’t expect me to participate. I’m not a superstar with a stick like you.”

For some reason, that small concession to come and watch us feels like a victory. One I’ll gladly take. I blow out a sigh, hating the fact that despite how cordial we might be now, I know that Maya will be even harder than Preston to win over, and for years he constantly threw punches at my face every time I saw him.

“Come on in,” she says, tipping her head toward the other door so I’ll cross the threshold into the house. “Finley’s already outside, practicing. I think he wants to impress you.”

“He shouldn’t worry about impressing me. Besides, there’s more to life than hockey…” I trail off, thinking about all the times my father told me that shit.

“Not to him there’s not,” Maya says. “His world revolves around hockey. Always has since he was old enough to walk and hold a tiny stick trying to imitate his uncle.”

“No wonder he’s already so damn good,” I remark. Then I ask her, “How old was he when he started walking?”

“Oh, um, I guess he was about ten or eleven months old. By his first birthday he was running laps around the house.”

“Really? Wow. Do you have videos of him at that age?”

“Of course,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ve got most of them saved on the Cloud. I guess…I can put them on a flash drive for you if you want?”

“I would love that,” I tell her. “Seriously. Like all of his photos and videos from the day he was born.”

Laughing, she says, “Okay. And I also have some of both from before he was born.”

“Like photos of you while you were pregnant?”

“The ultrasounds of him, I mean.”

“I want to see those, too. And photos of you, like when your belly was all big, looking like it was about to pop. I hate I missed that.” God, why does the thought of seeing Maya swollen with my son make me so damn hard? Because everyone would be able to see for themselves that she’s mine. That it was me who had been spilling inside her. I’ve never been as desperate to bury myself deep inside of her as I am right now. Something I never got to do. Something I shouldn’t be thinking about while wearing thin athletic shorts.

“I’ll give you everything I have tonight,” Maya replies just as we reach the back door. It takes me a moment to realize what she’s talking about. Oh, right. She’ll give me a flash drive of all the photos.

“Great, thank you.” My dirty mind was imagining her riding me naked, giving me her body, heart and soul to me tonight, all night, until we collapse together in an unconscious, well-sated, tangle of sweaty limbs.

Even better than the sex would be the next morning when we wake up together, then I make breakfast for her and Finley.

Speaking of my son, just outside, Finley’s racing around the yard with his stick, chasing the white plastic ball with a look of concentration on his face like his life depends on running faster, until he sees me.

“Hey, Christian! You came back today!”

“Hey, buddy,” I greet him, then quietly ask Maya as I head down the porch steps, “He didn’t know I was coming over again?”

“At his age…I don’t like to make promises that can be easily broken. Canceling plans breaks his heart, so please remember that when you make them.”

“I won’t break any plans or his heart,” I assure her. Or yours goes unsaid even though I promise that too, even though Maya was the one who shattered mine. I know I let her down and broke hers too, though.

Grabbing one of the full-size sticks propped up against the back of the house, I shout “Incoming!” and swipe the plastic ball.

Without missing a beat, Finley moves into position so that once the ball reaches him, all it takes is a swing of his smaller stick to send it hurling into the goal.

“Great shot!” I tell him going over with my palm raised for a high five that he jumps up to hit.

Maya stands on the porch, her arms still crossed while we play, but I can feel her watching us. Whenever I chance a glance at her, her face appears to soften as Finley throws his arms up to celebrate every time he scores.

I can feel the weight of her eyes on me too sometimes, and part of me wants to make a smartass remark about her liking what she sees, but I hold my tongue. But I love the attention too much to ruin it, just like in the minor league days when it felt like I was the center of her universe, even though I knew she was there watching her brother too. She didn’t constantly track him like she did me, though. I could feel the heat in her gaze, see her own dirty thoughts swirling in her mind whenever our eyes met across the ice. That undeniable chemistry is why, when I picked her up for our first date, I couldn’t make the short walk from her dorm to my truck before I kissed her. A near frantic, passionate kiss against a tree that nearly sent me to my knees and lasted a good ten minutes before we could stop. It was like we were both giving in and getting what we had wanted for the weeks before Preston gave his approval for me to ask Maya out.

I later found out it was Maya’s very first kiss on her first ever date. More of her firsts that belonged only to me.

But just because she may still be attracted to me doesn’t mean she feels the same about me or will admit it even if she does.

If anything, she’s probably just keeping an eye on me to make sure I don’t screw up and knock Finley down or something.

Still, I want to say something to break the tension.

“Hey, Finley,” I say, grinning down at him as we take a break. “Do you think you got your mad hockey skills from your mom or Uncle Preston?”

Finley laughs. “Mommy’s good at soccer, not hockey. She hates the ice.”

I glance up at Maya, raising an eyebrow. “Soccer, huh? I might have to see that. How come I never knew you played?”

Maya rolls her eyes, but there’s a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “I only played a little in high school.”

“There are trophies in a box in her closet,” Finley informs me.

“Trophies? Really?” Now both of my brows are raised.

“One was for MVP,” he goes on to say. “That stands for most, um, most valued person, I think.”

“A most valuable player award? That means your mom was the best player the team had, the one person they need the most to win games,” I tell him.

“Wow,” he says, gazing up at his mother. “So, does that mean she was like really good?”

“Yep. She was the best and she’s just being modest,” I loudly whisper to him.

Blinking up at me, Finley asks, “What’s modest mean?”

“Oh, baby, you’re asking the wrong man that question!” Maya calls out with a grin since she can obviously overhear our conversation.

Chuckling while subtly scratching the side of my face with my middle finger in her direction, I explain to Finley, “Modest means you don’t go around bragging about how good you are at something, even when you’re really good at it. Like, I shouldn’t tell people that I’m the fastest player on my team or in the entire professional hockey league, even if it’s true. It’s better to let all the sports commentators say it instead.”

Tilting his head, Finley says, “Are you really the fastest player in the league?”

Plucking the collar of my tee with my fingers, I give him a grin. “That’s what everyone says about me, so it must be true, right?”

“Right,” Finley agrees with his own smile. “I want to be the fastest one day, too. But I’ll probably just be big and slow like Uncle Preston.”

I wish I could tell my son that I have no doubt he inherited my swiftness, but I can’t because for the time being I’m just his mom and uncle’s ‘friend.’

Instead, I tell him, “You know, if you work hard, I bet you could be even faster than me one day. You almost have me beat now!”

By the time we head back inside that afternoon, Finley’s worn out, but seems happy. After lunch and guzzling two cold glasses of water, he plops down on the couch, his eyes glued to the cartoon that’s playing on the television. I sit down next to him, but my attention is not on the screen. It’s on Maya, who’s busy tidying up the kitchen, though I’m pretty sure she’s just avoiding sitting in the same room with me.

When she doesn’t join us, and continues her scrubbing, I take the hint, standing up and stretching my arms over my head. “I guess I should probably head out.”

“When can we play again?” Finley asks.

“Let me talk to your mom about that, buddy. I hope it will be soon,” I tell him as I ruffle his hair. “I had fun with you today.”

“Me too,” he says before his attention returns to the cartoon about a crew of cute little animals who live under the ocean and go on rescue missions together.

Maya’s scrubbing the empty, sparkling clean sink when I find her in the kitchen. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She jumps, apparently not hearing my comment about heading out or my approaching footsteps thanks to the running faucet.

Shutting the water off, she turns around, still wearing yellow rubber gloves that come up to her elbows. Shaking her head, she says, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her rather than ask her permission. “Unless you need some help cleaning up tonight?”

“Well,” she says, eyeing the cabinet where the trash bin is located. “The garbage is heavy…”

“Got it,” I tell her, happy to help, even in this small way.

Once I return from stuffing the trash into the can next to the side of the house, I come back through the backdoor. Maya’s waiting, holding her hand out to offer me…a small, black flash drive. “The photos and videos you wanted.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, excited to see them as I clutch the device tightly so I won’t lose it, as if it holds top secret, world ending documents. I may have to buy a new laptop tonight since I forgot to pack it. I left town in a rush, throwing only the barest of necessities into a bag. Which reminds me, I wonder if Finley has watched The Jungle Book or one of my favs as a kid, The Lion King. Maybe Maya will let me have a movie night with Finley while I’m in town. I want to do everything with him, starting with taking him to a park since he asked about me taking him sometime.

That’s why, on my way to the front door, I ask Maya, “Would you and Finley want to meet me at one of the local parks tomorrow?”

“Um, sure, I guess. Just let me know which one and what time.”

“How about noon? I’ll pack us a picnic lunch.”

“A picnic lunch?” she replies with a smile. “Okay, sure.”

I won’t ever have a picnic again without thinking about mine and Maya’s first date, a picnic on the back of my truck because I couldn’t afford anything more extravagant. It was one of the best nights of my life. We talked about all sorts of random shit thanks to a game in our date box. We kissed even more than we talked and ended up rolling around in the bed of my truck so hot and heavy that I had to take a cold shower when I got home. All our clothes stayed on the whole time. I only slipped a hand up Maya’s shirt for two minutes before stopping so I didn’t embarrass myself by making a mess in my pants.

And maybe I’m trying a little too hard to win Maya over now. I can’t help it, though. I like spending time with her and Finley. After just two days, it almost feels like we’re becoming a family, the one we should’ve been years ago.