A/N: Thank yous to Team Spiderward for all you do. xx
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. The NHL owns anything that sounds familiar. I'm here having fun.
/ /\ (oo) /\ \
Chapter 50
Tuesday morning, there's hushed conversations among coaches when Ben doesn't arrive and the bus is ready to depart for our morning skate. I doubt I'm the only one who noticed he missed our team breakfast too. Once they make a decision to leave without him, our goaltending coach, Lou, climbs on the bus, informing Stefan that he will be my backup tonight.
There wasn't anything wrong with Ben when we arrived last night, and I wonder what could have happened since then. Ben isn't the type of player to go out or miss curfew. Who knows, maybe he overslept, but if that were the case, Coach would have pulled him out of bed and made sure he was on this bus personally.
When I catch James's gaze, he only shrugs, indicating he's out of the loop too. My attention shifts to Caius who is tuned out to everyone around him with his ear buds in, sunglasses on, and staring out his window.
Once we arrive at the arena, the routines of our morning skate are welcome by everyone. I find comfort in my normal exercises before focusing on team drills with our penalty kill and power play units. After we board the bus to return to the hotel, I'm energized for tonight, while my stomach growls, ready to eat.
A quick check of my phone shows a recent message from the front desk that I have a visitor waiting in the hotel lobby. I wonder if it's my dad, finally here to apologize. Stepping off the bus, I enter the hotel to find my visitor all smiles and excited to see me, as if we're long-lost friends.
His eyes briefly flit behind me, and he jerks his chin toward someone, returning his attention to me. "Edward!"
Glancing toward my teammates, no one else stops, moving around us before we step out of the way.
"Jake." I shake his offered hand, only for him to pull me closer for a hug, patting my back with his other.
"How are you doing, champ?"
Champ?
"Busy, as you can imagine." I tilt my head in question. "I'm surprised to see you here."
"Oh, you know me. I can never resist the lure of Vegas. I should just buy a place here." Jake laughs. "I saw you were playing tonight, and I had to come by before the game. Do you have time for lunch? We could talk. Catch up. My treat."
I thumb toward the meeting rooms where hotel employees are adding the finishing touches to a buffet for our group. "I'm having lunch with the team."
"Of course. Of course." He nods toward the hotel bar. "Maybe we can grab a quick drink or something. Touch base. I feel as if it's been forever since we last spoke."
Definitely not forever.
"Yeah. Um . . . okay."
It may be the only way I'm able to get rid of him today, because I suspect he believes a meeting between us is overdue. The hotel bar isn't busy, with only a handful of customers, and we slide into an open booth, away from others.
A server who notices our arrival stops by our table. "Good morning. Or I guess it's technically afternoon now. It's afternoon somewhere." She laughs. "What can I get you two?"
"Is it possible to get a green tea?" I ask.
"Honey, this is Vegas. I'll bring you anything, and if we don't have it, we'll find it." She winks. "Hot or cold?"
"Cold."
"And for you, sir?"
Jake scans the drink menu on our table. "I'll try the rattlesnake."
"Any food? The other side has our limited menu," she suggests with a wave of her hand.
Even though I'm hungry, I shouldn't be eating anything from there before tonight's game. "Nothing for me," I reply.
"Or me," Jake adds.
She smiles. "Okay. I'll have your drinks ready shortly."
"Great," Jake says. With her departure, he grins, fidgets with his hands, then cracks his knuckles lightly. "I hear congratulations are in order—you're a married man now."
So this is where he wants to start. Bella. I nod. "Yeah. Happily."
"An elopement is unusual . . . especially during the season." When I don't expand any further, Jake repeats, "Well, my congratulations to you and your new wife."
"Thanks. I'll pass those along."
"Dr. Swan is quite a catch." My gaze narrows while he continues. "I remember our families being close when we were younger, but she hung out with my sisters then. And Leah. Dad said he traveled to Dallas recently to be Charlie's best man when he married Renée . . . again."
"He did," I confirm reluctantly. "It was a small gathering."
Too small to include you.
"Maybe the second time will be the charm." Jake smirks at the dig. "My invite must have gotten lost . . . somewhere. I mean, we're practically family. All these years together? You're like the brother I never had."
I shrug my indifference since that sounds like a line he tosses out freely to his clients.
Fortunately, our server returns with our order, and I take a long drink of my tea while Jakes sips on his cocktail. I'm interested in cutting this meeting as short as possible, ready to join the team for lunch, but he's the one who asked for this time. I can be patient . . . to an extent.
When I don't respond any further, Jake lowers his voice. "I hate to jump into business, but I want to talk about that letter I received from your lawyer. Since you're thinking you will no longer need my services, I can only conclude that you're set on retiring?"
"I don't know about my future plans yet," I admit. If and when I do, I'm definitely not going to share them with him. "I think it's best to make it clear that at the end of this season, we should part ways. Regardless of my plans, I don't believe we are properly aligned with what the future holds for me."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. What do you mean we aren't properly aligned? That doesn't sound like you when I've always come through in the past. You asked and I delivered," Jake defends.
"No. My dad asked, and you delivered," I correct. "You both have been working around me for years, and that isn't going to continue any longer. When was the last time you spoke with him?"
"I can't remember." His memory loss is convenient as his face morphs into the picture of concern. "How's he doing?"
"OK, I guess." I wouldn't know, but I can't tell him that. How is my dad doing? A man who has become a compulsive gambler that Jake has loved having on the hook for years to maintain control over me. Over both of us for almost the entirety of my career. Well, not anymore.
"Edward, don't be too hard on him. Carlisle always kept you focused when you found distractions away from the rink. You're lucky to have him in your life. He's a great dad, always involved, who never let you lose sight of your goal, and here you are all these years later," Jake points out. "Could you be making more money? Yes. Could you be a starting goaltender with another team? Yes. You're the one who turned down those options when I presented them."
I scoff at the thought. "They were in another country!"
"So, another city in the US would be an option?" Jake questions a little too quickly.
"No."
"That's what I thought. You're slapping handcuffs on me while I'm here working my ass off for you. Who got you out of Montréal when that went to shit? Me. Who negotiated your move to Dallas when you decided you wanted to be near your family? Me. Who got you that desk job interview against my better judgment? Me. I have always put you first and delivered—every deal since Anaheim. How can you turn your back on me now when you're so close to getting everything you've worked your whole life for?"
"I don't—"
"Listen. You like best-case scenarios. I'll give you what I see. You win the Cup."
My heart beats faster at the thought while he crosses his arms over his chest and continues.
"What are you going to do after that? Hang up your skates? Not defend it with another season? Once was enough? No. Unh-unh, man. That's not you. You can't walk away when there's ice in your veins and passion in your heart." He leans close and jabs the table with his finger. "I. Know. You. You're a warrior. You play another season and defend it."
I hadn't considered what I would do if we won. Fuck. Is he right? This is what Jake does. He paints the picture, making the future easy to see. He isn't supposed to make sense.
"What if . . . your team wins it again?" Jake proposes. "Back-to-back Cups. It's rare, I know, but not impossible. Can you imagine? Are you telling me you're going to walk away from this sport then? Nope. Not Edward fucking Cullen. Hockey is your life. You're going to keep going. And you're going to need representation regardless of what you do. I'm your man. I've always been here for you—whatever you need."
All of that is a huge if . . . and if my body can continue to respond with my everyday demands beyond this season. Shaking my head, I release a steady breath.
First things first: What do I need to get through these last two months with Jake as my agent? Well, my first request is easy.
"I need you to leave my dad alone. He's not—"
"You got it." Jake cuts me off. "Say no more. If Carlisle calls or messages me, I'm a ghost."
"I mean it. He's not part of my decisions going forward or speaking on my behalf."
"Understood. Loud and clear. No contact with Carlisle. What else can I do?" Jake asks.
"I need you to leave my wife and our relationship alone. No posting anything online or doing anything to try to undermine either of us."
His face fills with confusion. "I would never do that." But his words lack any sincerity, which only confirms to me that he was somehow behind the gossip on those online message boards. Maybe he had an intern or someone else post those messages.
"Heidi claims otherwise," I reveal. "And I believe her."
Jake shakes his head. "Edward . . . I don't know what to say. Whatever she's saying . . . that was all your dad. I warned him it was over between you two."
So, that's how he's going to play it? Blame my dad when he was the one who reached out to Heidi. She isn't a liar.
"Really, Jake? What about Tanya? You brought her to the Winter Classic. What were your motives then?" I prompt.
"We're friends—acquaintances," Jake explains. "I saw her at a party and mentioned that I would be seeing you. She wanted to visit her family during the holidays, and I know you two go way back. Yeah, she has a soft spot for you, but who doesn't at this point? That's all it was—friends catching up over the holidays. No harm. No foul."
I still question his motives and involvement where Tanya or Heidi are concerned, but maybe it's possible for us to part on good terms without me needing to buy out his contract or silence. Bella will like that since I know she doesn't believe he's due another cent from us.
"I mean it Jake," I warn. "Over the remainder of our contract, you make any trouble for me, and our relationship ends immediately."
Legally, I know Steve says I can't do it without considerable, specific proof, but I need to say it anyway.
Jake smiles. "Then I've got a two-month opportunity to prove I'm as loyal as you'll find out there. Don't doubt me, Edward. I never once doubted you. I've got your back. Don't forget it."
His reassurances do little to offer any immediate relief, but I'll hope for the best where he's concerned.
/ /\ (oo) /\ \
Unfortunately, our game with Vegas ends in another regulation loss—four to one. With forty-four shots on goal, I kept out forty. While it isn't a bad save percentage at just over ninety percent, it took me longer than normal to settle in and get comfortable.
Vegas shot two over my blocker in the first period, and I have no excuses for those. I should have had them, especially when they were in the exact same damn spot. Their captain scored a power play goal I never saw due to being screened by Demir in the second period, then another puck banked off me from behind the net in the third.
Our only goal was from Marcus during the third period, but we were just out shot all night. Twenty-two shots on goal wasn't many for a team with our fire power, and their goaltender shut us down easily, facing half the shots I did. We should be shooting more, but that's not my job. I'll be the first to admit I've had better nights—letting four get past me is nothing to brag about.
With no sign of my dad before or after the game, I check the tracking link and his car is parked at a hotel away from The Strip. A part of me is disappointed that whatever he's doing is more important than mending our relationship or even reaching out to Mom. It seems as if he has no plans to salvage whatever is left between us, but I still believe the next move is on him, which means our stalemate remains.
Caius is quiet all night, which is unusual for him, not delivering the hits he did in Arizona —unless he was settling old debts with specific players in Arizona. I don't know. Regardless, I have plenty of my own bruises, and I can only imagine he's struggling with his fair share too.
There is a collective sigh of relief when we board our plane, finding Ben in his seat for the flight home. James shares quietly that Ben had a stomach bug and watched our game with Junior from his box.
During our post-game meeting, Lou states that Ben will be back on the ice in net Friday when we play Philly. Before we return to our seats, Ben tells me that something was off with his meal during our flight from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. He spent the night and most of the morning trying to recover from whatever upset his stomach. That's unexpected, but not unheard of. But it feels a little suspicious when he's the only player out of everyone on the plane with an issue.
Once I return to my seat, I remove my phone from my pocket, checking my messages. After receiving an earlier text from Rose, I'm eager to get home to my wife. I take a moment to re-read Rose's texts.
My new sister is a brilliant dentist,
but your new wife is a horrible patient.
I've done everything I can to help
and warned her not to come into the office tomorrow.
She has a cold/virus. No fever for now. Good luck!
I only have a two-word text from Bella with a crying emoji.
I'm sick.
Once we touch down in Dallas, I grab my bag, ready to drive home. With little to no traffic at this hour, I pull into our driveway and park in record time. Stepping through the side door, I remove my dress shoes, pass through an empty kitchen and great room, before walking down the hallway to our bedroom. The door is wide open with her nowhere to be found. Some of the pillows from our bed are missing, and I leave my suitcase, shoes, and suit jacket in our room before going upstairs.
As soon as I step onto the landing, I can smell something in the air. Walking down the hallway, one of the bedroom doors is open and a soft lamp barely illuminates the room. Bella is in bed, propped up against the pillows with a tissue box nearby and plenty of crumpled tissues scattered everywhere. I do a quick clean up, adding everything to the waste basket next to the bed.
Scout lifts his head watching me from where he's wedged himself against Bella while Shadow sits up, walking to the edge to greet me.
"Meow."
"Hey, sweetie," I whisper, lifting her into my arms.
After a few scratches behind her ears, she gives me a little head butt before I return her to her spot, walk around the bed, and empty the contents of my pockets onto the nightstand. There's a humidifier, filling the air with a cool mist, and an aromatherapy diffuser next to it, but I can't place the scent it's releasing.
"Hey," Bella's scratchy voice startles me.
"Hey, sweetheart, you're awake. I was trying to be quiet."
"You're home." Looking up at me, she squints then stretches. "What time is it?"
"Early." I open the buttons of my dress shirt.
Her brow furrows with confusion. "Wait. What are you doing? You shouldn't be in here. You'll get sick."
"Why aren't you in our bed downstairs?" I ask.
"I'm trying to prevent you from getting this bug I have. Take the bed down there and save yourself. Your sinuses will thank you later," she pleads half-heartedly. "I'm miserable."
"Do you honestly believe I will be able to sleep with you up here?" I drop my dress shirt onto the chair next to the nightstand, then pull off my T-shirt, adding it to the pile.
"Um . . ." Even though she's sick, Bella's eyes move over my tats and chest appreciatively. "Yes?"
"Well, you're wrong." I unfasten my belt and dress pants, letting them hit the floor. After stepping out of my pants, I yank off my socks, adding everything to the pile on the chair. In only my underwear, I pull back the covers. "Scoot over unless you want me to carry you back downstairs."
"Edward," she whines, making room for me, while Scout readjusts to a new spot. "You're too big for this bed."
"Doc. You better be talking about Scout because you know I don't care. After that road trip, I'm sleeping with you." I lean over, kissing Bella's exposed protruding belly. "Hi, Pumpkin. Daddy's home. I missed you."
"I can sleep with a mask."
"No."
"You're going to get sick," Bella warns.
"No, I'm not."
"So stubborn," she mumbles.
"I'm stubborn?"
"Fine."
After I settle Bella in my arms, I tuck her head under my chin and readjust the covers around us. With a kiss to the top of her head, I sigh. "There. That's better."
We're both quiet until she breaks the comfortable silence between us. "I'm sorry you lost your game tonight. I tried to watch, but I may have dozed off."
I shrug. "I'm sorry you're sick, but didn't I warn you about doing too much?"
She sniffs. "That doesn't have anything to do with it. I could pick up a bug from anywhere."
"You're pushing yourself too far, trying to be everything to everyone, and look where you're at now."
She sighs while her finger traces along the tattoos of my chest. "I can't go to Houston this weekend since I'm sick. The last thing Mom needs is to become infected with whatever I have."
"My mom is there. It will be fine. She'll be with your parents and help out in any way she can."
"Rose won't let me come into the office tomorrow, even if I wear a mask. I don't have a fever," Bella defends.
"So, which is it? You're too contagious for me, but not for your patients? Come on, Doc. You're sick."
"I know," she admits in a whisper.
"And even if you don't have a fever now, you could have one later. Do you have a sore throat?"
"It's a little scratchy."
I glance toward the row of travel mugs and bottles on the other nightstand. "You need to rest and to drink your line up of fluids. Both are important for you to get better."
Bella sighs. "Rose overdid it. I'll be in the bathroom all night between her and Pumpkin, but I called my doctor earlier. She said not to take any over-the-counter medicines if possible and only use natural remedies. I had soup for dinner, but I don't know where my phone is. Maybe I left it downstairs."
"It's charging on the nightstand." I noticed it before I got into bed.
"Oh. Rose must have put it there. Did you text me?"
"Yes. I replied to you, but now I'm here in-person." I leave another kiss on the top of her head. "Have you been able to sleep with all of this?"
"Mostly naps. I've had trouble breathing. My nose is either runny or stuffy. Did you know there are three locked bedroom doors up here?"
Oh shit. She's been checking the rooms. I don't want her to see our new bedroom and her closet before they're ready.
"Pumpkin's and the two next to it." Bella reveals her findings.
"Don't ruin Al's surprise. He's probably storing supplies in them and doesn't want you snooping around," I suggest, then redirect her attention. "No morning skate for me today. I'm yours all day long. I will probably go for a run and do my yoga routine after I walk Scout and Shadow."
"When do you play again? This weekend?"
"There's a morning skate tomorrow. We play Philly on Friday night, Winnipeg on Sunday, and Los Angeles on Tuesday. All home games before we travel to Chicago next week. Only nine games left in our regular season schedule. Time is running out."
"You'll still make the playoffs though, right?"
With the way we had been playing prior to the trade deadline, I never would have guessed that would even be a question.
"I have no idea. Right now, we're not playing as we should, and I don't know what else to do. Everyone seems to be pulled in different directions and that's carrying over onto the ice. We lack the team bond we had earlier in the season, especially while in Mexico."
"Is it Caius?"
"It's a lot of things, but he's part of it."
"Is he hanging out with any of your teammates?" Bella asks.
Shaking my head, I don't remember seeing him reaching out to anyone during this road trip. "Not really. He's been keeping to himself and his chatter has quieted lately."
"No friends? That has to be lonely. Who is his agent?"
"With his attitude, Caius's lack of friends is on him. He doesn't make it easy." I shrug. "I don't know who he is with now. Our league has around eight hundred active players at any given time, and I think there are almost two hundred agents certified by the players' association. There's no way I can keep up with everyone's agent, especially when he wasn't playing in this league recently. I wouldn't be surprised if his agent bailed after he entered the player assistance program. When it all goes to shit, friends are a challenge to find, and especially a paid agent."
I should probably share with her the conversation I had with Jake in Las Vegas, but he's the last thing I want to discuss at this hour. I said what I needed to say, and we parted on a good note, which hopefully means that the next couple of months will go smoothly between us.
"Hmmmm. Well, maybe Victoria will be a good influence on him," Bella suggests.
I chuckle at her complete one-eighty. "What in the world did my sister put in that diffuser? We need to bottle and sell it," I tease, prompting my wife to poke my side. "Hey. No poking. I have fresh bruises."
Her smile fades. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"I will be, and you're forgiven." I leave a kiss on her forehead. "It almost sounds as if you're supporting them dating now."
"My husband is ridiculously optimistic about everything. Maybe it's rubbing off on me." Bella chuckles, tilting her head to look up at me. "And . . . your sister may have also pointed out that I need to trust Victoria's judgment. She's an intelligent woman who went into a partnership with me and ended her involvement with Roy, which I understand is not an easy thing to do. Most women would have put up with his intrusiveness for access to his money and the notoriety he brings. But that's not her. She's looking for a solid relationship without . . . conditions. I respect that."
"Ah-ha. You and my sister have been busy despite your being sick. What are you two brewing now?"
"Nothing," Bella says a little too defensively. "I value Rose's opinion and having time alone gave us a chance to discuss a variety of subjects, including my business partner. We're all invested here. I want Victoria to be happy, and you were the one who said I shouldn't put any preconceived opinions on Caius, especially since they weren't my own."
"Wow. You're even listening to me?" I chuckle.
"Of course I am. If Victoria can see the good in him, then maybe I can too. Or at least give him enough of a chance and time to form my own opinion. I can do that for her. There are very few people in this world who are beyond redemption. That tidbit of wisdom was from the one and only retired Charlie Swan." Bella grins. "We went fishing together while Esme and Rose stayed with Mom."
"Did you catch anything?"
"He did." She shrugs. "I've been trying to do something with Dad independently from Mom each visit. Just the two of us. I think we need that . . . togetherness and some normalcy in all the chaos. It also gives me a chance to talk out what's happening in my life with somebody relatively objective. I think he likes just having something else to think about."
"I'm sure he does," I agree.
"Dad said I need to remember not to lose sight of what's important and where I want to invest my energy. He also said that there's never a wrong time to do the right thing. And I think for me, I have to do right by Victoria and Alice," Bella concludes.
"You're not letting go of this thing with Senior?"
"No, I'm not. I'll help Alice in any way that I can or she needs, especially after everything she's done for my parents. I feel as if I need to pay her back somehow. Unfortunately, I have no clue how to do that when she has everything at her fingertips. I'm hoping I'll figure out the best way to thank her personally because what she's given us—more time with Mom—is priceless."
"Yes, it is." I squeeze her gently.
"I am letting go of my fight with Sam. I'm just done with him. He's a part of my past, not my future. Yes, he gave me my first opportunity, and I'm grateful for that, but ultimately, he did me wrong in many ways. Shame on me for not leaving his practice sooner. I'll leave the job of picking his bones clean for Emily. At this point, I need to invest in me, our practice, and trust my judgment going forward. It's solid too."
It isn't much, but it is progress with Bella removing one thing from her overflowing plate. I'm surprised she's willing to let it go when I know how she feels about the disparity in income between herself and the other dentists in Sam's practice. A judgment in her favor would probably be a substantial amount of money. I can't imagine Bella walking away from that fight willingly, but maybe the payoff isn't enough to make it worthwhile. I suspect my sister is a part of that decision as well.
"And . . . Rose shared with me that our appointment bookings for the next three months are filling up quickly. We've had a recent surge of activity through our website, requesting new appointments. Rose believes it's due to your posting about our elopement and all the posts Victoria has been doing. While I'm not active on social media, she's been sharing her trips to the games and her time spent with Caius. At this rate, Rose said our patient volume between us will rival what I was doing alone at Sam's."
"No shit?" I reply with amazement.
"That's a huge change for Victoria, and patients are asking for her now too. I knew they would with time. We just need the patience to rebuild. The goal is for us both to do the same patient volume I was doing at Sam's alone. I told Rose about our article with D Magazine being published soon, and she predicts we'll see another surge in appointments, which is exciting."
"You can thank me now." I grin, ready to take credit for something she was so reluctant to do. "Or later since you're sick. Did your doctor want to keep your appointment next week or see you sooner?"
"We're keeping my Wednesday appointment, but if I get worse before, she said to call her. I don't plan on getting worse."
"No one ever does."
Bella yawns. "What should we do today?"
Clearly, this is the part Rose was talking about Bella not being a good patient.
"You're staying in bed and resting." I repeat my earlier words. "We need to stop talking so you can fall asleep."
"But you're home and I missed you. Plus, you've got me talking about the office, which gets me excited thinking about our new growth. I'm not sleepy."
"I missed you too, but you need to sleep. When you wake up later, we'll move everything back downstairs to our bedroom, set you up on the couch in the great room instead, and spend an easy day together."
Bella gasps, looking up at me excitedly. "Maybe we can decide where to go on our babymoon?"
"Babymoon? I thought we were going on a honeymoon."
"Yeah, babymoon. It's what they're called when it's the last vacation, with only the two of us, before Pumpkin's arrival," she explains.
I smile. "I like everything about that. A babymoon. Do you want to know where we are going or let it be a surprise?"
"Hmmm. What if we narrow our list to our top five favorites. That might be fun. Then you pick somewhere and surprise me."
"So, you can't just rest today and get better?"
"That is resting for me," she whispers. "Were you able to sleep or rest on the plane?"
"No." I shake my head. "After Rose's text, I was worried about you and Pumpkin the whole flight."
"Edward."
"Next time, you're going to need to give me more than I'm sick."
"I'm sorry. I will."
Breathing through a few deep easy breaths, my muscles slowly release the tension they've been carrying, and I feel my body sinking into the bed. I'm filled with ease at having Bella in my arms, righting my world once again.
"I love you." I kiss her forehead, close my eyes, and whisper, "Good night."
"Good night." She leaves a kiss on my jaw, then nuzzles her head into the crook of my neck. "I love you too."
/ /\ (oo) /\ \
Entering our locker room Friday evening at American Airlines Center, Ben whistles a happy tune. He stands at his stall across from mine. "It's a great day . . . to have a good day," Ben sings. "Spider, how are you doing tonight? Ready for the Flyers?"
With only a few of our teammates in the room at the moment, no one is paying attention to either of us since they're busy with their pre-game routines.
"Yeah. I'm good. Ready for every game between now and the end of the season. How about you?"
"I'm great." Ben lowers his voice. "I got news today. Good news. Great news."
"What's up?"
"Angela is firmly in my rear view mirror and I'm punching the gas. We're done. It's over. I'm in the clear. You have no idea how much that bullshit has been lingering and bothering me."
"I have an idea. So, she's actually pregnant?" I ask.
"Yeah, but there's a zero percent chance I'm the father of her baby," he shares.
"That is good news."
"Isn't it? I can move on. Finally." Ben holds out his arms, taking in a deep breath. "A weight has been lifted and I feel as if I can finally breathe again."
"What about Cap?" I wonder.
"I don't know. I tried calling him, but it just went to voicemail." Ben looks over at James's stall. "Looks as if he's here. Somewhere."
I nod. "I'll find him and check in."
Ready to begin my pre-game routine, I leave Ben to get ready and search for James. He isn't in the weight room or having a pre-game meal. Walking past our teammates playing soccer in the hallway, I check our cardio room, but James isn't there either. Eventually, I find him in one of our treatment rooms alone on a table with a towel over his face.
Stepping inside, the lights are low, but he hears me enter and uses the towel to wipe away sweat . . . or tears? Closing the door behind me, I take a seat on the table next to his.
"Hey, man."
"Hey." He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table.
"How are you doing?"
"I don't know." James shakes his head sadly. "I don't know what the fuck happened. I may have blacked out when my lawyer started talking. Fuck. I should have had you listening with me."
Suspecting what he's about to say, I wait, giving him a chance to unpack whatever his news is, which clearly isn't as good as Ben's.
"It isn't—the results aren't . . . conclusive. I fucking hate that word. There's something connecting me, which means I can't be ruled out either. My lawyer is requesting new test samples and processing them through a different lab. Blah, blah, blah. He says we can request more extensive testing and samples from other possible fathers. Who the fuck could that be?" James shouts, clearly upset.
"I don't know."
"If we're forced to go the distance, then he said we'll demand another test at birth."
"Fuck."
"Right? Seven or however many more months of this bullshit. I . . . I don't know if I should tell my parents or what. You know my dad. I don't need to give him another thing to hold over me that I've fucked up. I'm so fucking stupid. I know it! I know I fucked this up. I don't need his fucking reminders!" James huffs.
"Maybe give it some time before you tell them. I saw Ben. He says there's no chance of him being the father."
"I figured that was the case. That's good . . . for him." James nods, pushing his hand through his hair nervously. "You have no idea how much this sucks."
"Go home. Take the night off," I suggest.
"Coach said the same thing. I can't. No. My life is better on the ice than off. I need tonight. I need every fucking night. I need to keep playing, keep skating. We have a Cup to win and you're not raising it without me because of some bullshit situation I got myself into."
"I wouldn't dream of it." I grin, knowing his dedication, passion, and leadership are at the heart of this team.
"No nights off. I can't miss a game." He blows out a heavy breath. "I'm not doing enough. I need to do more. Focus more. Stop being distracted. More goals. More assists. More hits. More ice time. I should be leading this team in every damn category. That's what a captain does."
"Even penalty minutes?" I tease.
"Yeah." He chuckles. "Those too."
"How long have you been here today?"
"All afternoon. There's no way I could nap at home. Or anywhere for that matter. I'm warm now and ready to drop the puck. I still have, what? Three fucking hours?"
I nod. "Something like that. I better get started on my pre-game and catch up, but I wanted to check on you first."
"I don't know how I'm going to find a way through this . . ."
"You will, and you don't have to do it alone. We're a team. We win as a team; we lose as a team. We're here for you on the ice and off. Don't forget it."
James's head bobs with agreement. "You're right, we are."
"Whatever you need, don't hesitate to reach out. Doc and I are here to help." Sliding off the table, I hold open my arms for a hug, which he eagerly accepts.
"Thanks, man," James whispers, pulls away, and wipes the tears from his eyes once more. "What do I do now? Just . . . accept it?"
"Never forget that any kid will be lucky to have you as a father," I reply.
He blows out a steady breath. "Worst-case scenario: we become dads together and our kids grow up as friends."
"I'm having a difficult time understanding what's the 'worst-case' about that." I grin.
"WWVD?"
I chuckle. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe Caius is right. I must be getting old because I have no idea what the fuck that means."
"You're not old. It stands for, 'What would Vladdy do?'"
"Oh. I have an idea of what he would say." I smirk because Vladdy already made his opinions known on this subject in Mexico.
James nods. "He would tell me to stop pissing on the opportunity to love the fuck out of that kid whether it's mine or not. Fathers and mentors are both important. And to do everything possible to make the baby's mother happy. That part sucks. It's fucking Angela."
"You're right. He would. But that doesn't mean you can't give Angela's lawyer your list of demands with some firm boundaries."
"Why does everything have to be so difficult? Can't one thing go right for me?"
"Well, if you can choose, pick winning the Cup." I smile and grasp his shoulder. "Because that way we win it together."
His grin soon matches mine. "Okay, I'll pick that."
As if it's that easy.
We both know it isn't.
With this last stretch of regular season games, it's now or never. Every night is important. Every win is crucial. Every point in the standings feels as if it weighs more heavily. It's the difference between playing in the postseason or watching the postseason.
And I plan on playing.
