Page 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Marissa

I feel a bit out of sorts not helping prepare the meal, but Tina shoos me out of the kitchen, Nick gives me a glass of wine, and Dozer leads me to the couch to relax while Nick and Tina finish getting everything ready after sending their kids off to watch a movie in another room.

They don’t last long, though, popping back in to ask for drinks and snacks and, I think most importantly, to sneak glances at me. I smile and wave at the little boy. Noah, I remind myself when he shyly waves back.

After their third or fourth excursion to the main room, Shelby plants herself on the couch as far away from me as she can get—which isn’t terribly far since Dozer’s on the other end and I’m in the middle, but she’s small enough that there are more than six inches of space between us.

She eyes me up and down, then seems to come to some kind of conclusion. “You don’t seem mean,” she declares at last.

I nearly choke on my mouthful of wine. Holding my hand in front of my face until I can control myself, I manage to swallow, though I end up coughing a few times as I set the stemless wine glass down on the coffee table in front of me. “Um, thanks?” I say hoarsely.

“The last lady that was friends with Uncle Dozer was mean,” she elaborates.

I glance at Dozer, and he’s cringing a little but trying to hide it.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “How so?”

Shelby scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, whispy hair flying around. “She didn’t like Noah and me. She kept getting mad at us for being loud.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “But we weren’t loud. We’re just kids!” She gives an elaborate shrug on the last statement, hands raised to shoulder level, palms up, and I have to bite back a smile.

Leaning closer, I lower my voice to a whisper too. “I don’t think you seem very loud.”

She beams at me, and Noah creeps around the edge of the couch. I glance over the tops of their heads to where their parents stand in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder, watching this interaction. Tina looks almost apprehensive, like she, too, is worried I’ll be mean to her kids, and I can’t help wondering about this mean woman who Dozer brought around previously.

How long ago did these people have to deal with her? And if she was so awful, why was Dozer with her?

I’m almost tempted to ask, but think better of it.

“What movie are you watching?”

Her whole face lights up at my question. “ Monsters, Inc !” Then she deflates a little. “But Noah’s scared of Randall.”

Noah nods solemnly. “Wandall’s sca-wy.”

I nod, too. “That makes sense. It’s his job, after all.”

“He’s mean,” Noah adds.

“True. And no one likes mean people, do they?”

Both kids shake their heads.

“Do you want me to fast forward a little bit so you don’t have to watch Randall being scary?” Nick asks from the kitchen.

“No!” Shelby protests while Noah nods and cries, “Yes!”

“Last time you watched Monsters, Inc , we didn’t fast forward at all,” Nick reminds Shelby in a patient voice. “I think it’s Noah’s turn to decide this time.”

Crossing her arms, Shelby slumps into the couch with a pout on her face. Nick scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder, making her squeal in a combination of outrage and delight, then he scoops Noah up one handed, settling him over the other shoulder. The little boy kicks and giggles, clearly delighted with this treatment.

“Your kids are adorable,” I say to Tina once they’ve left the room.

She smiles, looking relieved. “Thank you. I think they’re pretty great.”

“How old are they?”

She fills me in on their ages—five and three—and tells me about the plans for Shelby’s upcoming birthday party and all the drama that goes into planning and executing a kids’ birthday party.

As we talk, Dozer’s hand glances across my shoulder, the gesture almost intimate, but when I glance his way, he just smiles at me. “Thank you,” he mouths.

I give him a quizzical look, but he waves me off and quietly says, “I’ll explain later.”

“This was so fun,” I tell Dozer as he drives us back to our condo building. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He glances my way, his face lit by the glow from his dashboard and passing streetlights. The sun went down a while ago. Dozer and Nick’s teammate Jack Bouchard came shortly before we sat down to eat, bringing a small flower arrangement for Tina that Shelby absolutely loved. He stayed for quite a while afterward, joining in as we all talked and laughed and played games—a few rounds of Hi Ho Cherry-O and Uno and then a family-friendly version of Cards Against Humanity in deference to the little ears present. The kids were less interested in the last game, though they wouldn’t admit it at first. Eventually Tina declared that Shelby was on her team and Noah was on his dad’s, which was met with voluminous protests until the kids switched so Shelby was with her dad and Noah was with Tina. After that, they were up and down and running around more than playing, but they’d pop up from time to time to give their input on which card their parent should play despite the fact that they couldn’t read them at all.

Well, Shelby could a little. She’s in kindergarten and learning to read this year.

“I’m glad you could come. This is one of the best Thanksgivings I can remember.”

I grin at him. “Oh, yeah? Even the part where the kids were telling me about your last lady friend and how mean she was?”

He bares his teeth and hunches his shoulders. “Yeah … She was”—he tilts his head to one side, seeming to search for the best words—“not a very good friend.” He glances at me again. “I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned her to you before. Jenny? The last woman I dated? I brought her with me on the vacation we all went on in June.”

“Ohhh. Right. Yeah. I think I remember something about that. You mentioned taking her along was a bad choice and that she tried to break into your condo after you broke up with her. But I didn’t realize she was mean to little kids too.”

“Honestly, I didn’t really realize it either,” he admits. His expression turns pained. “I don’t think I was all that nice to them, either,” he confesses quietly.

I let the silence stretch between us for a moment before sucking in a breath. “Well, they seem to have forgiven you. The kids were excited to see you, and I didn’t see you be mean to them once.”

He flashes me a tiny smile. “Yeah. They’re fun kids. Jenny wanted to go out drinking and stay up late and sleep in while we were on vacation. That’s what vacation is for, she said, and I couldn’t really argue with that logic. I just wanted her to be happy because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.” He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “That’s why I decided to take a break from dating.”

I practically hold my breath, waiting to see if he’ll add more. While he mentioned weeks ago that he wasn’t dating at all right now, he never really elaborated as to why.

Letting out a rough exhale, he shakes his head again. “I always get all twisted up in these relationships, trying my best to be everything for her, y’know? I mean, I don’t let a relationship distract me from hockey. I’ve always been able to compartmentalize life off the ice so it doesn’t mess up my game. But …” Another sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what a relationship’s supposed to be like. Because every time I try to act the way I think I’m supposed to, I end up being mean to little kids and accidentally letting someone move into my house who wants to sell my things out from under me while trying to pressure me into spending money to upgrade my car and decor.”

I raise my eyebrows at that. “That’s very specific,” I murmur.

He glances at me. “Yeah, well, that was all Jenny too. She’d been kicked out of her place right before we went to the cabin in Arcadian Falls, but of course she didn’t bother telling me that until we’d been back for a couple weeks and she’d stayed with me the whole time. At first I thought it was because she liked me so much, but …”

“But you realized she was just using you,” I finish for him.

He nods, his jaw clenching, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I’m pretty sure his knuckles are white, though it’s too dim in the car to tell.

I suck in a deep breath, not quite sure what to say. “I think,” I say slowly after several minutes of silence have stretched between us, “that you’re not really the problem.”

He lets out a humorless, “Ha!” sparing me a brief glance as he navigates into the parking lot of our condo building and pulling into his spot. “That’s kind of you to say,” he says, finally turning to look at me as he turns off the car.

Neither of us move, staring at each other for long moments.

“It’s not,” I say at last, breaking the silence. “I’m not being kind. I’m being honest. You’re a good man who gets easily attached to things. Take this truck, for example. Most people would say it’s just a truck. What’s the big deal? Why not upgrade? You can definitely afford something fancier. Shinier. Newer. Dare I say, nicer.”

He narrows his eyes at that last statement, and I hold up my hands as though to ward him off.

“ I’m not saying that. I’m saying there are plenty of people who would . But you love this truck. It works well, and it has sentimental value. I get it. I think you should keep it for as long as you can justify it, even if you decide to get something fancier to go with it.”

He opens his mouth, his brow furrowed, and holds his breath for a second. Then he exhales on a sigh, closes his mouth, and looks away, shaking his head.

After waiting a beat for a response, I continue softly. “There’s nothing wrong with being sentimental. And I’d be the last person to criticize you for being sentimental about a car. I love cars. I work on cars in my spare time for fun. Parting with my last project car was painful, even though I knew she was going to a good home. I just couldn’t justify the expense of shipping her here, and she wasn’t practical for daily driving. And I have to have a project car in progress. Some people play sports or do crafts or whatever.” I shrug, holding up my hands. “I build cars.”

The smile he gives me is soft and warm. “I think it’s so neat that you do that. I don’t really have time for hobbies. Hockey’s my whole life and has been since I was a kid. All my friends, apart from you, are teammates or former teammates. All my time’s been dedicated to it since we figured out I was good enough to play at a higher level than the local rec league when I was a kid. I’ve been busting my ass since I was in elementary school, working to be the best.”

“And it’s paid off,” I put in. “I mean, look at you!”

He nods a little ruefully. “It’s true. I got what I wanted. I have the life I’ve been dreaming of since I was little. And it’s amazing! I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I’ve always wanted someone to share it with, y’know? And since I was so focused on hockey, I didn’t really make time to have any lasting relationships when I was younger. I didn’t learn those skills. And now? Now I can’t tell if a woman’s interested in me because she actually likes me ”—he lays a hand over his chest—“or if she just likes the fact I’m a professional hockey player with money and a certain amount of fame. And because I always want to believe the best of people, I assume it’s the first one and it always, always turns out to be the second.”

I give him a sympathetic smile. “My situation isn’t quite the same, but I know the feeling of hoping for the best but only getting the worst. Of assuming someone is one way, only to find out in the most painful manner that they’re not the way they presented themselves at all.”

After heaving a big sigh, he turns an overly bright smile on me. “Enough depressing past relationship talk for tonight. It’s a holiday! We’re supposed to be celebrating. Wanna come up for a beer and some sports highlights?”

Laughing, I nod. “Sounds perfect.”