Page 31

CHAPTER 31

EDIN

I’m not sure I’ve ever missed someone to quite the extent I’ve missed Elijah these past three days. Nights were super long, and I felt irrationally cold all the time, despite the heat being cranked. Which was counterproductive since I kept waking up sweating my balls off because it was far too hot in the room.

I kept sending him stupid pictures just so we’d have an excuse to text throughout the day. Then I’d think I was interrupting him and decide not to send anymore only to receive a text from him with something silly, like he wondered why people weren’t still being mummified when they died. Or him musing about all the sordid gay affairs that happened in his house back in the nineteen thirties when it was built. He concocted this elaborate story about the master of the house and his wife’s third nephew, who’d been orphaned at twenty and was now living with them. He provided me a list with pictures of where he said they’d steal a kiss or a blow job.

Trying to explain away the reasons I was grinning with my cheeks red and squirming in my chair as I read these details to Mo was a little challenging. I was running out of believable stories to tell her, especially since I refused to let her read the texts.

Speaking of Mo, she, Dak, and Sparrow joined us on the bus ride back from L.A. airport. Coach offered them a ride with us so they didn’t have to rent a car back. It wasn’t like we didn’t have plenty of room on the bus.

Dak and Sparrow have been watching Mo interact with my team with huge smiles on their faces. The entire two-hour bus ride, she’s had them enraptured with her story about the penguin pairs and their love affairs we learned about at the aquarium.

Sometimes, I wonder where she acquired these people skills. It’s not like she was well socialized before kindergarten. I couldn’t afford anything but a two-day-a-week preschool for the last year we were with Lydia. She sure as hell didn’t go to daycare because I couldn’t afford that shit.

That meant she was mostly home with her mother, who I know didn’t talk to her other than to scream about anything and everything. Then there was me. Dak was around a lot. I took her to visit Dak’s parents as often as I thought I could without imposing on them.

We didn’t have neighbors with kids her age. Lydia couldn’t be bothered to look for playgroups in the area or connect with other parents of kids Mo’s age.

There are a lot of reasons I feel like Mo’s social skills should be lacking. Instead, they’re far better than mine.

Mo’s sitting on her bottom in the very back of the bus, so everyone else is turned in their seats facing her. Her legs are swinging as she covers her mouth, giggling behind her hands as she recounts the debacle about the stolen egg; Pitri really wanted an egg, so he stole Norton’s. There was a penguin fight until the keepers split them up and gave Pitri back his egg.

“The boys take care of the eggs until they hatch,” Mo explains. “It’s really cute.”

“Is this how hockey always is?” Sparrow asks me. We’re sitting at the front of the bus watching.

“No,” Coach says. “She’s usually yelling at them to skate faster and not to hurt her father or she’s going to tie them to the goal and shoot pucks at them until they’re crying.”

Dak and Sparrow stare at Coach for a minute before looking at me. “It’s true. I think she’s even got the refs afraid of her.”

“She doesn’t know it yet, but I have a jersey on order for her,” Coach says. “And her own whistle and clipboard. I have half a mind to let her coach a game all on her own. Just out of curiosity.”

“Watch out,” Dak says. “She’s going to have your job before her age is even in double digits.”

Coach laughs. “I always wished my kids loved hockey, I wanted to share it with them. None of them truly got into it. My boys will watch games and love to go to them, but they don’t have half the passion Mo does. It’s nice to have a kid around with that kind of enthusiasm for the game I love.”

“You have kids?” I ask.

Coach nods. “I have four; two boys and two girls. Kelsey’s on the cheerleading team with your friend. Skye, my younger son, attends Longwood as well. My older son has graduated, and my younger daughter is still in high school.”

“Did you ever take them on game trips like this when you coached NHL?” Dak asks.

Coach smiles. “Orion, my oldest, went with me once. My mistake was taking him too young because I was constantly worried about him during the games and when I was caught up in press or whatever. He was eleven, so he was perfectly fine. Just waiting in the wings, watching. Taking it all in. Unlike Mo, he was a quiet observer. He enjoyed the experience, and he still enjoys watching hockey, but he definitely doesn’t share my love for it like Mo does.”

“I sometimes wonder if my dads were disappointed that I don’t share their love for hockey,” Dak says, his gaze still trained on Mo. “I love hockey, but I don’t want to play it. They’ve always told me they weren’t disappointed and that they supported whatever I wanted to do, but I wonder if they said it so I didn’t feel pressured to keep playing just so they wouldn’t be let down.”

“I know your parents,” Coach admits. “Not well. I’ve never coached them. But I’ve been around them several times and I can promise you, they weren’t disappointed you didn’t want to play hockey. They’re not those kinds of people, Dak. I would wager a bet they’re proud of everything you do, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is.”

Dak smiles, his eyes flickering to Coach. “Thanks. I think that too, but sometimes I wonder if they’d be prouder if I’d continued with hockey.”

“It takes a lot of dedication and passion to make it in this sport. If your heart isn’t in it, you’re not going to go far. I think they would have been more disappointed if you halfheartedly followed in their footsteps and failed, than quit when you realized it wasn’t for you.”

Sparrow gives Dak a pointed look. I have a feeling they’ve had this conversation before. Dak bows his head. “I think maybe I needed to hear that. Again.”

“Pressure on your kids to keep playing when they’re not into it is just as shitty as forcing your child to quit for a stupid reason,” Coach says. He doesn’t look at me, but I have a feeling it was partially for my benefit. “I’d have loved it if one of my kids wanted to play hockey, but I wouldn’t change anything about them. They’re perfect, just the way they are. They’re smart and proud and passionate about other things in their lives and to any good parent, that’s what matters. My kids aren’t perfect. They’ve made mistakes. But my job isn’t to make them miserable and keep shoving the reminder of that mistake down their throats for the rest of their lives. It’s to support them and help them learn from it.”

I turn my face away and smile. Coach knows about my past. When he found me on the rink after I’d started skating again, he used to skate with me. Give me pointers. It was just the two of us for months when I was there, and he spent time putting me through drills and exercises to hone my skills.

I’m not sure if it was at a particularly low moment or maybe a breakthrough in therapy, but I told him why I’d lost five years of hockey and… he didn’t judge me for it. He said he understood exactly what it was like to be a teenage parent. He was a teenage parent, too. He’d gotten his best friend pregnant when they were sixteen.

Maybe the fact he could relate helped me gain some confidence in my own situation. I think what helps keep me motivated is that Coach made something of his life. He had a successful NHL career in coaching. He’s won three Stanley Cups. He was recognized as one of the best coaches of the decade.

Now he’s retired from NHL coaching and coaches college hockey instead. He told me he made the decision so he could be home with his family now. He missed a lot of his kids growing up because he was traveling so much with his teams.

Sometimes, I consider that maybe becoming a pro hockey player isn’t the best idea because there’s so much travel involved. I don’t have a wife. Mo doesn’t have a second parent to take care of her and look after her when I’m gone for days at a time.

Then there’s the fact that so much of my career would take place in the afternoon and evenings, which means I’d miss so many extracurricular activities. Is that the kind of parent I want to be? Placing my career over my kid’s childhood?

My heart nearly stops when I think about Elijah in our lives. A vision of him and Mo on the road with me when I go to away games has me struggling to take a breath.

That’s ridiculous. No one is going to want to give their lives up for me and my daughter. Not like that.

We pull up to the school’s rink just as I’m thinking this, and my breath catches again. Elijah is waiting outside, leaning against the same light pole he was when the bus pulled away three days ago.

I can’t be thinking of a future with him! I insist internally. College romance is one thing. Is this even a romance?

The way my chest aches says it might be. The way my entire body longs to be back in his arms says I’m being na?ve and stupid to think it’s anything else. I’m not blind, even I can see the way he looks at me.

And how much he adores Mo. How he cares for her. Has so much patience with her. Brings her little things all the time, like a pom-pom from cheer, so she has her very own. The other day, he brought one of the bows that’s part of their uniform for her. Mo was beside herself with excitement.

I’m right behind Coach, Dak, and Sparrow to get off the bus. Elijah’s eyes meet mine right away and he smiles. As much as I’d like to not run right into his arms, I don’t manage that. Okay, I don’t run, but my trajectory is directly into his arms.

He hugs me tightly, and I feel his sigh as an echo of my own. Like I’m finally complete again.

“Are you going to freak out if I tell you I missed you?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the spot right below my ear.

I shake my head.

“Good. I fucking missed you, Edin.” His arms tighten.

“Eli!” Mo shouts. I step away as Mo comes running up to us. She throws her arms around his waist, and I swear, my heart fucking stops. “I missed you, Eli.”

He leans over her, hugging her just as tightly as he did with me. “Missed you too, MoMo. I’ve been so damn bored without you.”

Mo steps back with a wide smile. Elijah produces a small bouquet of daisies. I’m not sure where he’d been hiding them. “These are for you, beautiful. Welcome home.”

My daughter is absolutely beside herself. She hugs the flowers to her chest and looks up at him with glassy eyes. “Thanks, Eli. Oh! I have something for you, too!”

She turns to search out whatever she’s looking for. Dak and Sparrow are just a dozen feet away, waiting for the luggage to be unloaded. They have her backpack in hand. Elijah and I watch as she hands her flowers to Sparrow for safekeeping as she digs through her backpack.

“Just a warning; I have no idea what she has,” I tell him. “It could be something slimy.”

Elijah laughs. “That’s fine.”

Mo takes her flowers back and returns to us with a bag in hand. It’s a small brown paper bag that she hands to Elijah.

“When did you go shopping?” I ask.

She just gives me a big smile, bringing the flowers up to hide it as she watches Elijah open the bag. He pulls out a hockey puck. On the front are the Longwood U and Nevada State hockey logos.

“It’s from the game Daddy scored in,” Mo explains. “We wished you could have been with us. Daddy was so awesome.”

Elijah stares at it for a minute before meeting her eyes. He crouches down to her level and pulls her into a hug again. “Thank you,” he says. His eyes raise to mine and like Mo’s had been when he handed her the flowers, his are a little glassy too. “Believe me, I would have loved to have been with you, Mo. There’s no place in this world that I’d rather have been.”

I inhale as I remain locked in his gaze. Something is happening between us. Something big, powerful, and deep. I’m not sure I’m ready for it, but I also feel like I’ll absolutely shatter if it’s taken away.

I nod, hoping he understands without me saying the words I’m not sure I have the courage to say that I agree with him. I hated being away from him for three days and I really don’t want it to happen ever again.

Maybe I don’t want it to happen again for the rest of my life.