by Beth Ehemann
When he’d pulled the last box out, he looked back and forth from me to the food proudly. “What do ya think? Beats the hell outta grilled cheese, huh?”
I stared in awe at all of the food on the island and shook my head slowly. “Thanksgiving in a box. I had no idea that was even a thing.”
“I’ve done it before, but back in Iowa. I wasn’t sure anywhere around here did it, but we lucked out.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “So when do you want to eat? Couple hours?”
“Ooooor a couple minutes?” I said with a laugh. “I’m gonna set the dining room table, and the minute Maura wakes up, let’s dig in.”
“Sounds good to me,” he agreed. “What can I help with?”
An hour and a half later, I was elated that I’d decided to wear yoga pants and a hoodie for the day. If my bump wasn’t sticking out before, it sure was after dinner. I think I scared Joel when I went back for my third plateful of food.
Gavin, Matthew, and Maura ran off to the playroom and we both sat at the messy, empty table, too stuffed to move.
“That . . . was unbelievable,” I said with a happy sigh.
He looked over and arched a brow at me. “We’re not done.”
“We’re not?”
“Nope.” His lips curled into a sexy grin and for the first time, I noticed a small dimple in his left cheek. “We still have pumpkin pie.”
I lifted my arms on the table and groaned as I dropped my head on top of them. “I don’t think I can.”
“Come on, champ.” He laughed and walked around behind me, massaging my shoulders like a boxing coach does to his fighter. “I have faith. You can do it.”
“I think if I try, you’ll have to wheel me to the hospital.”
He let go of my shoulders and took a few steps toward the kitchen. “Okay, fine. More for me then. I’m gonna grab some wine. You want some?”
I didn’t lift my head but my eyes shot open. “Uh . . . no. I’m good. Thanks.”
“Okay, be right back.”
As soon as I heard the fridge open, I sat up straight and my mind raced. Obviously Jodi hadn’t told him that I was pregnant or he wouldn’t have offered me wine. Should I tell him? Should I not? And why the hell was I so nervous and freaking out about it?
He set the glass down and sat back in his chair. “Boy, we have a mess to clean up, huh?”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out, then cringed at how crazy he must have thought I was.
“Uh . . . okay,” he said with wide eyes as he stared down at the table. “Well, I can clean the mess by myself then, that’s fine.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I blurted it out like that and I probably could’ve done it in a more tactful way but you asked if I wanted wine and I can’t have wine and then you came back and out it flew,” I rambled until I ran out of breath.
“Michelle . . .” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Slow down. I’m glad you told me, so please don’t worry about the way you told me.”
“Thanks,” I said softly, staring down at my lap.
“At least that explains the twelve pounds of mashed potatoes you ate,” he teased with a wink.
“Shut up!” I crumpled up my napkin and threw it at him.
We left the mess on the table and moved to the family room to talk, where I filled him in on almost everything that had happened with Viper. I told him about how he’d been acting weird after his surgery and how he was less than thrilled about my pregnancy, but I left out the really bad parts because, for some reason, I just didn’t want anyone else thinking he was a horrible person, even if I did.
When I finished, he stared at me with raised eyebrows and a dazed look on his face. “Wow. So how long has it been since you’ve talked him?”
“Mmmm.” I closed one eye and looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out when he left. “It’s been just about a month.”
“And he hasn’t contacted you at all?”
“Kinda. He sent a text once and apologized, and Gam says he asks her about me, but that’s about it.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” I shook my head quickly. “That’s my story. It’s out there now. It’s over. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “I just want to say one thing and then I promise I won’t bring it up again, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.
“You have my number now. If you need anything, and I mean anything, I want you to use it. I’m right across the street and can be here in ten seconds if I need to be, fifteen if I have to put pants on first.”
I giggled. “Well, it’s about to be winter in Minnesota, so pants would probably be a good idea if you’re going outside.”
“True. Freezing cold air and naked dudes don’t go well together, and I certainly don’t want anyone spreading that rumor.”
My shoulders shook as I laughed again . . . hard. It felt good to laugh.
Joel kept his promise and didn’t bring up my situation, or Viper, again. We small-talked for a few more hours, then pried the boys apart after they’d fallen asleep in Matthew’s bed together. He slung Gavin over his shoulder and made his way to the front door.
“Thanks for having us,” he turned and said.
“Are you kidding? Thank you for the amazing dinner. To think we almost ended up with grilled cheese sandwiches instead of all that.” I laughed.
He tilted his head to the side and gave a little shrug as his eyes locked on mine. “It still would have been worth it.”
My pulse sped up and suddenly I wanted him to leave. Fast. I put my hand up on the edge of the door and pulled it a couple of inches toward me, hoping he’d get the hint. “Okay, well I’m gonna call it a night. I’m pooped.”
“Me, too. Thanks again.” Moving quickly, he reached down with his free arm and wrapped it around my waist, pulling me in for a tight hug against him. I rested my hand on his shoulders and squeezed back as I forced air in and out of my lungs. After a few seconds, he let go and walked out the door.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” he called out as he stepped off the front porch, totally unaware that he’d just made my heart skip thirty-seven beats.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”
For the first time in my whole life, I spent Thanksgiving alone. In the past, if I wasn’t out on the road with the team, I was at Gam’s, but this year was just . . . different. Gam had invited me over, and I’d initially said yes, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to leave my house. I didn’t want to lie and say I was thankful for anything because I wasn’t.
I was miserable.
I missed Michelle and the kids so bad that my chest ached when I thought about them. I wondered what they were doing every second of every day. On Thanksgiving morning, I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I got in my car and drove to her house, where I parked a couple houses down while I thought of what the fuck I was going to say when I knocked on the door. I sat there for over an hour, playing scenario after scenario over in my head and nothing I came up with saying even came close to how I was actually feeling. All that popped into my head was that she didn’t answer my last text. I didn’t blame her for ignoring me, God knows I deserved it, but maybe it was too late. The thought of never being able to hold Michelle again, make love to her again, lie in bed and have her put her cold feet on me again . . . it was crushing.
Fucking crushing.
Add to that not being able to build Legos with Matthew or read books to Maura or a million other little things I’d taken for granted and I had to leave. Sitting on that street, staring at that house, knowing they were inside was gut-wrenching. They were less than a hundred yards from me. I could have been at the door within one minute, but I didn’t know what to say. I also didn’t want to make Michelle mad and totally ruin her Thanksgiving.
Instead, I started my car and left, drove straight to McDonald’s, and ate
alone in my car before heading home and not leaving my bed the whole night.
Frankly, other than to go to therapy, I didn’t really leave my house—or my bed—for the next week. Then I got a text from Andy.
Andy: Hey! I’m gonna pick you up at about 4 p.m. Be ready.
I quickly tried to remember if we had plans but came up with nothing.
For what?
Andy: You haven’t been to a game since you got hurt. It’s been long enough and you’re going to make an appearance there tonight. You still need to cheer on your team.
I do cheer them on. I watch every fucking game!
Andy: That doesn’t mean shit. They need to see you there. With them. Be ready at 4, and that’s an order.
Andy was my agent, but I hated when he acted like it. I also knew that when he told us to do something, we didn’t have a choice. At all.
Fine.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to the game—those guys were my brothers—but I didn’t really know what to say to them either. Most of them had called and texted after my surgery, but I’d ignored them. Brody had come by my house, but we got into a fight. These guys were all hockey players, but I didn’t feel like one anymore, so what the hell did I even talk to them about?
Four o’clock snuck up on me pretty fast. I threw on a Wild hoodie and jeans and walked out the front door. As I walked down the sidewalk toward his car, Andy rolled his window down.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I looked down at myself and back up at him. “What?”
“Get back in the house and put your damn jersey on!”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the house without saying a word. My closet was a total disaster and I couldn’t find anything in there. After five minutes of kicking dirty clothes around and snapping hangers in frustration, it dawned on me. My jersey was still at Michelle’s house.
I prepared myself for a fight with Andy and left my room.
“Dude. What the fuck?” Andy’s words startled me. I hadn’t even heard him come in.
“What now?”
He was standing in the kitchen, his eyes slowly scanning the piles of pizza boxes and empty Chinese food containers that were stacked high and covering most of my counters.
“This.” He motioned toward the garbage with horrified eyes. “Is this all you’ve been doing for the last month? Eating crap and letting your life waste away?”
“Listen, if your plan is to lecture me all night, then you can just go by yourself. I’m in no mood for this shit.”
“I don’t want to lecture you, Viper, but look at this. You’re out of control,” he exclaimed.
“I’m not out of control!”
He glared at me. “Have you even been going to therapy?”
“Yes!” I yelled back. “I go all the fucking time! It’s practically all I do.”
Andy put one hand on his hip and sighed as he ran the other one through his hair and looked down toward the ground. “I’m worried about you, Viper.” His head raised and he stared back at me. “You’re not just my client, you’re one of my best friends. And you’re acting so erratic that I’m worried about you. Not just your career. Fuck your career at this point. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I grumbled. “I’ll be fine.”
“I have serious doubts about that, but we’ll have to talk about it later because we’re gonna be late. Grab your jersey and let’s go.”
“I don’t have it.” I shook my head. “It’s at Michelle’s.”
He pulled his lips in and pinched them tight as he inhaled deeply through his nose, making sure I heard his annoyance. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”
We didn’t talk much on the way there. It was awkward and quiet—a lot like the rest of my life at the moment.
As soon as we pulled into the players’ lot at the stadium, my pulse quickened. My body knew where we were and it was responding.
“You excited?” Andy asked as we made our way down the concourse toward the locker room.
I put my hands in my pocket and shrugged. “I don’t know what I am. Nervous. Excited. I feel like I’m gonna barf, so that’s something.”
He let out a loud laugh and punched my shoulder. “You got this. I know it’s probably weird to be back here, but you have to know these guys are dying to see you.”
“I hope so.” I nodded.
The closer we got to the locker room, the louder the music from inside grew. My heart slammed against my chest as we got to the door.
Andy looked over at me. “You want to go in first?”
“Uh . . .” I stammered and took a deep breath, puffing my cheeks out.
He put his hand on my shoulder. “I got this.”
He walked through the door ahead of me and I lowered my head, staring at the back of his feet as I followed.
“Holy shit!” a familiar voice called out. “It’s Viper!”
I looked up to see Louie, wearing only a T-shirt and nothing else, walking toward me with his arms open. Several other guys called my name and cheered and followed Louie my direction. The next several minutes were spent giving high-fives and hugs and filling all the guys in on the latest with my knee.
“I’m so glad to see you here, man.” Louie slammed his hands on my shoulders.
I leaned back and glanced down at his junk. “Not that excited though, huh? Tiny Louie is still pretty tiny.”
“Fuck you!” he said with a laugh.
The crowd dispersed and everyone went back to suiting up for the game. Over in the corner, I noticed Brody sitting on the bench, putting new tape on his stick. I walked over and nudged him in the shoulder from behind.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he answered without looking up at me.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine.”
It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk to me and the last thing I wanted was to fight with him before a game, so I just walked away. Andy shot me a shrug and patted my shoulder as I walked past him out to the ice. The game didn’t start for a little while, so the stadium was still fairly empty except for the guys skating around and the vendors starting to set up. I stood in the doorway that led from the bench out to the ice and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the rink that I missed so much.
“Excuse me,” Brody said gruffly as he brushed past me. I stepped far to my right and tried to stay out of the way. A minute later, Coach Collins came out from the tunnel, too. His eyes scanned the ice as he took mental stock of everyone who was there. He was just about to walk back into the tunnel when he noticed me.
“Finkle!” A big smile grew across his face and he hurried over. “Good to see you upright without crutches!”
“Thanks,” I answered as he pulled me in for a big hug.
“How’s it feeling?”
I shrugged. “Feels great. No pain except for soreness after therapy. I’m making pretty good progress, too, and it’s only been a little over a month.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He nodded and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Keep working hard, because we miss you out there. We’ve got some good guys, but it’s just not the same. You give this team an energy when you’re out there that no one else can replace.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
Damn, that was nice to hear.
“All right, I’ve got some stuff to do still before the game.” He started to walk away but turned back to me after a few steps. “You’re sticking around, right? We’ve lost three games in a row. We could use a shake up on the bench.”
“I’m sticking around,” I answered, trying to keep my smile in check. It felt good to hear Coach say he missed me, on both the ice and the bench.
Once the game started, I struggled to keep up with all the excitement. Who knew that spending a whole month lying in bed would zap your stamina and turn you into a sloth?
Thankfully, the adrenaline kicked in when the energy ran out. Before the first period was over, I
was bouncing up and down the bench, slapping guys on the helmet and turning toward the crowd, waving my arms for them to stand on their feet. I knew my knee would hurt like hell the next day, but I didn’t care.
During a time-out in the second period, I was listening to Coach Collins rile the guys up when all of a sudden, the crowd started cheering loudly. I lifted my head and looked to see if someone had launched something down to the ice. Louie elbowed me and nodded up toward the big screen above the ice. My face was on the screen. The fans were cheering for me! I raised my hands above my head, pumped them in the air, and the cheers roared to a deafening level. Being in that building, being with my team, being with those fans pumped some life back into my dead heart. I felt a small piece of myself returning.
The Wild’s losing streak came to an end that night. The Wild Anthem belted from the speakers as I high-fived all the guys on their way into the tunnel, and then the celebration continued for another hour in the locker room.
As Andy drove me home, I couldn’t stop my mind from racing or my legs and hands from twitching. A bright blue current of electricity coursed through my veins, and I couldn’t sit still, no matter how hard I tried.
I got home and decided to scrub my kitchen top to bottom, throwing out four huge bags of garbage. I also began making a mental list of all the shit I needed to do to put my life back together.
It was no secret that the number one thing on my list was also going to be the toughest. As bad as I wanted to, I couldn’t just march in and demand my family back. Michelle was a lot of things. She was strong, she was caring, and she was forgiving . . . but I might have pushed her too far.
Even so, I knew one thing for sure. If I was going down, it wouldn’t be without the fight of a lifetime.
“Momma! Momma!” Matthew sprinted down the hall and flew onto my bed.