Kane

by Sawyer Bennett

  Mollie looks out the window. She’s silent for a long time. I can’t tell whether I’ve rendered her speechless in a good or bad way.

  Finally, she asks hesitantly, “You don’t think this is kind of fast?”

  Now I’m the one taken aback. “Buying a house for us to live in? No, I don’t think it’s fast. We’ve spent ten years getting to this point.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m not talking about the commitment to buy a permanent place for us to live. I’m talking about the fact I still don’t know what to do with my life. I mean… what if I wanted to go back to traveling?”

  Something in her tone causes a heaviness to settle in my chest, and it’s practically suffocating. We had indeed talked about such things, but she seemed content just to be with me.

  This needs a face-to-face conversation, one that can’t be had while I’m driving. It also can’t wait, so I find the first available space alongside the curb of a sprawling Mediterranean house behind iron gates, then put the truck in park.

  “I thought we were going to travel during the summer,” I say as I turn in my seat to face her.

  She does the same, looking me right in the eye as she nods. “I love that idea. It would be amazing to be on the road with you. But… summer is a long time away.”

  Christ… she misses what she does. Driving the roads on her own with Samson, seeing wondrous sites, and then writing beautiful words about them.

  “Are you saying you want to go back to doing what you were before?” I ask hesitantly.

  She instantly shakes her head, which is a relief. What’s not providing me with any degree of comfort is the fact she looks so conflicted. “What I’m saying is that I miss what I do, but I love being with you. I have to figure out how to make it balance.”

  She’s right, of course. She deserves to pursue her dreams as much as I do, but the thought of her being gone so much fills me with dread. Would we be able to survive it?

  I already feel like she’s such an integral part of my life—of me—that it would be like someone cutting off my arm.

  Reaching across the console, Mollie takes my hand, lightly lacing her fingers with mine. “And while I could get on board with the idea of us getting a house—especially so Samson could have a yard—”

  She takes a moment, then uses her other hand to wave at the monstrosity of a mansion we’re parked in front of before continuing, “These houses are just too big, Kane. I’m a simple girl, and you know that. I don’t need all the luxury trappings that come with your level of success, but if you want something like this, I guess I could be persuaded.”

  I glance past her to the house. It’s gargantuan. Erik and Blue live in a similar one. It was a symbol of his prosperity and hard work.

  My gaze comes back to Mollie. “I don’t need anything like that.”

  “Then what do you say we go look at more modest houses?” she suggests with a smile. “Maybe over in Jim and Ella’s neighborhood.”

  I know she’s sincere in her desire to appease the need I have to settle more roots with her. She’s also deflecting me away from talks of her going back on the road, because she was smart enough to know I’m bothered by it by my tone and expression. In turn, because I know her so well, I’m smart enough to realize she’s placating me right now by backing off the tense subject.

  Weeks ago, when she first came to me and we became lovers, then fell into true, intimate love, I had told her that I would support her going back out on the road.

  Now I’m not so sure I meant it.

  “Let’s go drive around their neighborhood,” I agree.

  Her smile is genuine and relieved. “Perfect plan.”

  We spend an hour riding around Jim’s former neighborhood—now Ella’s since she stayed in the house—and saw some beautiful houses. Way smaller than what I was envisioning, but still bigger than what most have. Any one I could pay cash for if we decided we wanted it. Ultimately, we made note of a few we liked, and Mollie said she’d look up a realtor to use to take us to see them on a convenient day.

  We eat lunch at a vegan place Mollie wanted to try. I wasn’t crazy about it, but it ended up being tasty and equally satisfying. I dropped her back at the condo, secure in her safety to the extent I could pull up in front of our building rather than have to walk her up, now that Matthew is behind bars.

  I head over to the arena. Have a great practice with the team. We laugh and crack lewd jokes in the locker room. Some make plans to grab a bite to eat and some beers afterward.

  I decline because I want to head home to Mollie. Ignoring the jeers that I’ve been pussy-whipped, I instead wear it like a badge of honor because just sitting quietly with Mollie on any given day is better than hanging with my buds and having scores of women throw themselves at me.

  I find her on the couch when I step in the door, the aroma of something delicious I can’t quite put my finger on in the oven. She has her laptop resting on her thighs and a frown on her face as she stares at the screen. Samson, who had been curled at her side, hops off and trots over to me for a greeting. I give him the requisite ear scratches after dropping my gear bag in the foyer.

  Settling onto the couch beside Mollie, who gives me a bump of her shoulder against mine, I scan the screen to see what she’s doing.

  It’s a blank screen with a title at the top in all caps—IDEAS FOR TRAVEL GUIDEBOOK.

  There’s nothing else on the screen, and she scowls at all the white space.

  With a sigh, she leans her head back on the cushion and stares at the ceiling. “I can’t come up with a freaking idea to write about.”

  “How long have you been trying?” I ask.

  “Half an hour, at least,” she grumbles, raising her head and giving me a sidelong glance. “It was a stupid idea to write a guidebook.”

  “It’s a brilliant idea,” I reassure her. “And since you’re going to model it after the way you travel, it will stand out among the others.”

  “Sure,” she mutters, pointing at the computer. “If I could take what’s in my head and put it on pages.”

  An idea strikes hard, and I reach for my phone. With a few taps and swipes, I pull up Mollie’s IG account and the hundreds of pictures of her travels.

  I couldn’t pick a favorite any more than I could say what my favorite goal I’ve scored is. They’re all special.

  I tap on one to enlarge it. “How about this right here… a complete chapter on how to customize your vehicle?”

  Mollie leans toward me, resting her head on my shoulder and studying the picture on my screen. I can feel the smile in her tone. “My van is pretty badass.”

  “You brilliantly plotted out how you wanted to convert it, then made it space and energy-efficient. You could probably do more than one chapter on travel vehicles.”

  “That’s actually really good,” Mollie exclaims, sitting up straight and putting fingers to the keyboard. She types that out before demanding, “What else?”

  I flip through more pictures until one strikes me. It’s of a grilled fish she’d caught, then cooked over an open flame with a steel grate. I enlarge it. “This one right here… how to make meals on the road. You could probably do a recipe book one day but, for now, how to smartly shop and prepare with the lean amount of equipment you have is ideal.”

  “Brilliant,” she says, fingers flying over the keyboard.

  She and I spend about an hour going through her IG account, letting it create ideas that can be translated into advice for those who might want to travel the way she does. I love the enthusiasm she has for the project now that her creative juices have been tapped, and I enjoy helping her with it.

  Love being a part of her career, the way she’s become a part of mine.

  CHAPTER 26

  Mollie

  “This is the life,” Clarke sighs as she leans back in her folding chair. We have a small campfire going, the sun has set, and the stars are hanging low. She lifts the beer to her mouth, then takes a sip.

&nbs
p; I only smile at her comment. It truly does say it all. Tonight sort of epitomizes one of the things I love the most about traveling and blogging. A scenic drive to get here to Bulldog Canyon about forty miles west of Phoenix, a good meal cooked over an open fire, and a cool, starry night. I could write pages about the beauty of this one experience.

  Yesterday while hanging out with Clarke at her bookstore, we’d been talking about the troubles I was having getting traction on my travel guide. I’m organizing and coming up with more ideas every day, but it all feels like such a struggle. She asked me questions about my experiences on the road to help with additional ideas, and then a thought had struck me like a lightning bolt.

  “How about we take an overnight camping trip? I’ll show you what it’s all about,” I suggested.

  She was instantly enamored of the idea, being a spontaneous kind of woman. She arranged for her best friend, Veronica, to watch the shop, then we packed up and hit the road with Samson. The Vengeance was in town for back-to-back home games, so we each respectively hit up our men and informed them about our plans. I found it hilarious that neither one of us asked… we just sort of said we were hitting the road and would be back tomorrow. Because our men are cool, they wished us a good time and told us to come back safe.

  “I can see the appeal to living this way,” Clarke says dreamily as she stares at the fire. It’s so peaceful out here right now, and the night blankets me with calm. She thumbs over her shoulder at the van. I’d shown her how easy it was to fold the kitchen away to convert the center space into the bed. “It all looks so easy.”

  “I put a lot of work into designing this van, then having it converted,” I reply, pride in my voice. This wasn’t an endeavor I went into lightly.

  Clarke laughs. “When Kane said you were a travel blogger who drove a van, I had this image of you in one of those seventies-style VW vans.”

  Chuckling, I nod. “That’s more my style… all bohemian, but not practical at all.”

  My van is a used Mercedes Sprinter Crew Hightop Turbo Diesel that I got at a great price. My parents helped finance my start-up, and it cost nearly as much to modify it to the way I wanted as it did to purchase it. But within two years on the road, financed by a trendy travel blog that made me an influencer, while getting paid endorsements, I was able to pay my parents back for their belief in me.

  “I imagine you’ll have a lot to say about the mode of travel,” Clarke murmurs. “I mean, not everyone needs a van like that. They can just have a regular vehicle and tents to camp in.”

  “Exactly. All have different ways to travel.”

  She turns my way, tipping her chin in question.

  “What?” I ask, feeling her scrutiny.

  Clarke gives a slight shake of her head. “I just… I thought I heard something in your voice that sounded distinctly like… disappointment.”

  “Really?” I ask, blinking in surprise.

  “I think so,” she replies hesitantly. “Do you want to write this book?”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I focus on the fire and watch the flames leap and lick at the air, tiny sparks floating upward to disappear into the night.

  Clarke didn’t ask exactly the right question.

  She should have asked, “What is it you want to do?”

  Drawing in a breath, I shift toward her and admit something I haven’t to Kane. I’ve danced, bobbed, and weaved around the issue, but I haven’t been able to reveal a very important truth.

  I know my expression is as miserable as I feel. “I miss being on the road. I miss seeing new sights every day. Meeting strangers, hiking trails, and going to sleep exhausted but eager for an early dawn.”

  “Whoa,” Clarke whispers, pulling her chin inward in surprise because within that admission was the incredible guilt I feel over missing that life. I have a great new life with Kane. What he has given me in the form of love, security, friendship, and protection, not to mention an entire new family with the Vengeance, far outweighs being a nomad.

  I shake my head. “But that life is over,” I say assertively, not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or Clarke. “It’s okay if I miss it, because I love my new life even more.”

  Clarke doesn’t respond right away, and I can tell she’s not buying into my overly logical assessment of the situation. After a moment of reflection, she says, “It’s okay to miss something. It doesn’t mean you’re disloyal to the thing you have in its place.”

  “But what if I miss it so much I might be willing to let go of that thing in its place?” I wail miserably.

  Clarke’s eyes bug out. “Are you thinking that?”

  “No,” I exclaim. “No, no, no. That just popped out of my mouth.”

  “There’s probably an element of truth in it then,” she gently suggests.

  My gaze drops to my beer bottle, and I start picking at the label as I consider that. And I believe she’s right. My desire to be back out on the road has nothing to do with my feelings for Kane. In fact, my perfect world would be for him to walk away from hockey to travel the world with me. But that’s not feasible, nor is it fair to wish it, because he loves his chosen career as much as I love mine.

  “You know, I didn’t realize how much fear Matthew had been holding over me,” I murmur, lifting my gaze back up to Clarke. “I had been so content to give up traveling, to fall in love with Kane and bask in the security he offered, that my traveling days just seemed behind me.”

  “But now that Matthew is behind bars—” Clarke suggests.

  “My fear is gone, and I realize it was clouding a lot of my feelings. And now they’re resurfacing, and I don’t know what to do with them.”

  Clarke tips her bottle back, drains the rest of her beer, and pushes out of her chair. She moves to the small cooler resting in between us, then squats to get another bottle. “Want one?” she asks.

  I nod and take a fresh drink, tipping the other back and finishing it off. Setting it on the ground, I remind myself it will go into the recycling bin as we leave tomorrow.

  When she settles back in her chair, she says, “Surely there’s a compromise that lets both of you have what you want?”

  “Yeah. Of course, there is.” Kane and I had talked about it some. “He’s offered to travel with me over the summer months. And I can take some short trips for maybe a week at a time around the U.S. that are an appropriate driving distance while he’s at away games. We’d have some time apart, but it would be doable.”

  Clarke frowns. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Not sure that’s enough for me,” I admit painfully. “Part of what is unique about what I do is the fact I can go weeks, sometimes months, living out of a small van with just my dog, my smarts, and a few provisions. It’s a challenge, and every day, week, and month that goes by that I make it, I experience tremendous victory.”

  “It fulfills you,” she murmurs.

  “Yes.” My eyes go back to the fire. “But Kane fulfills me, too. In the same way… probably more.”

  “If more, then what’s the conundrum?” she asks. “Seems like an easy choice.”

  “You’d think,” I agree with a wry laugh. “But what if… what if I’m missing something great? What if that next best adventure is waiting for me around the corner? Maybe just one more for the book. And then I could let it go.”

  Clarke has become a good friend in a short time, and she pulls no punches. “But what if you go on a long adventure, and then come back and try to start a life with Kane, but you continue to wonder if there’s an even better adventure waiting for you? I mean… how do you know this would be the last?”

  “I don’t,” I whisper, the fear in my voice evident. So fucking scared as to what this all means.

  I love Kane so much. With my entire being, yet I’m considering leaving him because I’m afraid of what I might be missing.

  How fucked up is that?

  “I did something,” I admit to Clarke, casting her a guilty side glance but letting my gaze d
rop again so I don’t see the censure in her eyes. “I applied for a paid travel job in Australia. It’s with an outback outfitting company, and they’d pay all my travel expenses, including shipping my van over, as well as fuel and food costs. It would be for an entire year.”

  Clarke’s eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising. “Did you get it?”

  “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

  “Let’s assume you get the offer and you want to take it, what would Kane say about it?”

  I take in a stuttering breath, smiling sadly as it comes out. “He’s my best friend. He loves me deeply. He’d tell me to go even if it would crush him. He wants to buy a house and he’s ready to start a life together, but he’d still tell me to go live my dreams.”

  “So, are you willing to crush him?” she murmurs. “Even if he tells you it’s okay to go?”

  And I have no choice but to tell the truth. “I don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Kane

  It’s odd being in the arena when it’s virtually empty. We had a late afternoon practice today, but by six, most everyone had deserted the building. No one was going to work out after the practice, the food and retail stalls for tomorrow’s game were already prepped, and the front office staff were long gone to start their weekend. Even the janitorial staff was out of here since it was a non-game day.

  We pass a few stragglers as I lead Mollie down into the bowels of the building, my fingers laced with hers.

  “When are you going to tell me why we’re here?” Mollie asks for what might be about the tenth time since I told her I had a surprise for her.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” I reply, which is the same reply I’ve given her every time. Patience has never been one of Mollie’s virtues.

  On the bottom floor of the arena, which sits underground, there’s a hallway that goes around the entire rounded building perimeter. I take her past janitorial services, the electrical room, the family gathering room, the locker room, and then straight to the small tunnel that connects out onto the ice.