Page 30 of Tripped Up (Austin Aces Hockey Club #1)

thirty

Wyatt

I thought I knew what love was. I thought I was happy. Turns out there’s nothing better than waking up beside the woman I love, naked and sated, with her knowing exactly how I feel about her.

Well, there might be one thing better. But I don’t think either of us is ready for me to put a ring on her finger. Soon. Probably sooner than I expect.

Since I’ve been spending my time at Elsy’s, the fridge is pretty bare, so I order delivery from the diner across the street. The doorman brings it up right as I’m getting out of the shower. Elsy’s still asleep as I arrange our omelets, toast, and fruit onto two plates. She’s not usually a big breakfast person, but I know she has a full day capped off by a performance tonight. She needs to keep her strength up.

Because now that I’ve had a taste of her, I won’t be able to live without her. Not again.

The team’s group chat is loud this morning, my phone going off every five seconds with yet another chirp from the guys. But I don’t care. They can mock me all they want; I love her, and I don’t fucking care who knows it.

Elsy pads into the living room shortly after nine, wearing my shirt from last night. Her hair is adorably rumpled and her face is creased with last night’s makeup.

“Good morning.” Smiling broadly, I rise from the couch and meet her halfway.

“Mm. Morning.” She wraps her arms around my torso, burying her face in my chest. “I slept in.”

“You did.” I kiss the top of her head. “You needed it.”

She tilts her face up and I kiss her properly.

“How about you?”

“Good. I sleep better when you’re next to me.” Shaking my head, I tease, “If only I could bring you on the road with me.”

She laughs. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“I know. I was thinking, though…”

Her eyebrows go up. “Hmm?”

“I’m playing in Boston in December, with an extra day on the ground before. It’s the middle of the week, so you’d have to miss rehearsal. But you don’t have any performances those days. Do you want to come? You could see Bex and everyone…”

Elsy’s eyes widen. “You want me to go?”

“I thought you might like to see your friends. I know there’s rehearsal to consider, but…”

“I’ll make it happen,” she states.

Kissing her, I squeeze her shoulders. “Good. So it’s a date. I’ll see if I can get you on the team plane, otherwise I’ll book tickets for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, puffing up with indignation. “I can?—”

“I want to.”

All the fight seeps out of her.

“Elsy, I want to do this for you. Will you let me?”

She swallows, then nods. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Tightening my arms around her, I drop a kiss on her forehead. “Come, eat. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

“You cooked?” She sounds skeptical, and rightfully so.

“There’s a cute place across the street. I’ll take you next time.”

“You think there will be a next time?” A smile teases her lips as she takes her seat.

“Now that I’ve had you in my bed, you’ll be lucky if I let you go.”

She giggles. “Yeah, good luck with that. I can be pretty slippery.”

A bolt of heat shoots through me, remembering exactly how slick she gets. “Oh, trust me. I’ve got a handle on you.”

Triumphant, she digs into her breakfast. “It’s cute you think that.”

* * *

After breakfast, I drive her home to get ready for her day and then head to the practice facility. It took a few weeks, but now I finally feel like I’m part of the team, like I belong here. This is my team now.

That doesn’t mean my life is suddenly perfect, though. My panic attack has been weighing heavily on my mind. I thought I’d worked through all of my self-doubt when it comes to my family, but it’s clear there’s still a long way to go. The appointment with my therapist the other day only reminded me I still have to do the work; I can’t bury it and pretend it doesn’t exist.

I need to tackle this head-on. Even if I can’t get past this lingering worry. I’ll never be good enough for them; I know I never will be.

But that doesn’t mean other people feel the same way about me. Elsy doesn’t think the way they do; she’s choosing to be part of my life. My sister and I have never been closer. And then my new teammates… they’re my family now.

I don’t want to do this. But I know I probably should.

Pulling out my phone, I exhale to the count of four, and then click on the contact.

The line connects on the third ring.

“Hi, Mom.” Can she hear the way my voice shakes?

“Wyatt?” Confusion laces her tone. “Why are you calling me?”

Because I don’t. My teammates might call their moms daily, but I probably only call home once every few weeks. It’s my sister I talk to much more often.

“Just wanted to say hi.” I hold my breath.

“Hello?” She gives an awkward laugh. “How are things? Bex said she visited you.”

“Yeah. She came for the weekend.”

That was nearly a month ago. It’s been that long since I called home. And it’s not like she’s called me in the time since. It’s always me reaching out.

“How nice.”

A stilted silence stretches between us.

“I’m dating someone,” I blurt out.

“Oh. Okay?”

I’ve never brought a girlfriend home, not since high school.

“I’m dating someone and it’s serious,” I continue. Running my palms over my pants, I exhale again, focusing on my breathing. “I love her. She might be the one. And I just… I wanted you to know.”

“That’s great, Wyatt.” There’s a warmth in my mother’s voice that wasn’t there before. “What’s her name? Can we meet her?”

“Her name is Elsy. She’s friends with Bex. You met her at the Stanford graduation.”

“Oh.” I can tell she doesn’t know how to take that. “And your sister is okay with this?”

“She’s happy for us,” I say firmly. “I was thinking… maybe you and Dad could come to Austin for a weekend? You can meet her again. Properly, this time.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

She can’t even pretend to be enthusiastic. My heart breaks. Why is it that nothing I do is ever good enough?

“I’ll send you the tickets, and I can handle all the arrangements.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. Why can’t they at least pretend to be interested in me? “I want you to get to know her.”

“It’s serious?” Mom asks.

She’s not listening to me; I just told her it was.

“As soon as she’s ready, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

When it’s time, I won’t ask for my grandmother’s ring, even though it’s been passed down through the family for three generations. I’ll buy her a new one—without strings and ugly memories attached.

“Wow.”

I absolutely hate this. Why do I keep putting myself through this torture, trying to make my parents love me when they clearly don’t care? Why do I keep reaching out, knowing they will rebuff me at every turn?

No more. I can’t put myself through this anymore. It hurts too much.

I have to let them go.

“Let me know what weekend will be good for you to visit.”

I’m putting the ball in their court. If they don’t give me a date, I won’t book the tickets. If they don’t put in at least a modicum of effort, I’m dropping the rope. They can figure it out.

When I have kids, if Elsy and I have kids, they likely won’t know their grandparents. And although part of me is sad about that, another part of me is relieved. I don’t have to keep killing myself, forcing a relationship they clearly don’t want. I don’t have to keep putting myself out there for people who won’t do the same in return.

My mom is quiet on the other end of the line, though I can hear her breathing, so she hasn’t hung up. She’s just not saying anything.

She never says anything.

I swallow the lump in my throat, my eyes stinging.

This is it. I have to let them go.

“Listen, I’ve got to run, I have to get on the ice soon.” I’m not even dressed for practice yet, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Wyatt.”

She doesn’t say she loves me, like my teammates’ moms tell them. She doesn’t say she hopes to see me soon.

She just says goodbye.

And maybe that’s the sign I was looking for all this time. I’m never going to be enough for them. I’m never going to be the child they’re proud of.

I don’t resent Bex for being their pride and joy. She doesn’t crave their approval the same way I do. She’s never held it against me for being dragged to all my practices and tournaments growing up. She doesn’t care that I dropped out of school to play hockey for a living.

She just wants me to be happy.

My sister loves me unconditionally, and I’ve never doubted that for a second. Instead of wondering why my parents can’t do the same, I need to live my life for me , not for them.

Blowing out a breath, I email my therapist. It’s clear I’ve got some work to do. I’m finally ready to get started.