“It’s only because you’re my favorite child.”
“I’m your only child,” I mumble. “Love you. Bye.”
Coach Jacobs steers the truck toward my house, and as I take in the sight of each room lit up like a Christmas tree, warmth spreads across my chest. For more than a year and a half, I’ve come home to a dark house, which has been one of the hardest parts of living alone. Because for so long, I lived with my wife, who seemed to always forget to turn off the lights when she left a room, and I’d always tease her about it. But once she was gone, all that remained was darkness … and every single time Ireturned home and saw the unlit house, I’d relive the moment she had left me all over again.
As he parks in front of my house, I pull my eyes from the light coming from each window and turn toward him. “Thanks, Coach. Really.”
Grabbing the small paper bag, I push the door open and climb out.
He looks at me and gives me a small grin. “I meant what I said, Kolburne. Just get better. We need you to come back stronger than ever, all right?” He leans on his steering wheel, his hands gripping it. “You can’t rush a recovery. But I am happy to hear you’re feeling well.”
I lean against the door. “I’m telling you, at the next checkup, I’ll be cleared to come back.” I nod. “And starting next week, I’ll be attending all practices too. Even if I can’t take part in a lot of them.”
“Sounds good, son. And like I said, don’t give that girl a reason to leave, you hear?” He smirks. “I don’t need to tell you that she’s out of your league, just like Meghan is out of mine. We’ll talk soon.”
Closing the door, I wave to him, and he turns around and heads back out of my driveway.
After our talk today, I feel better about my place on the team. Since my heart attack, I’ve let the voice in my head creep in and tell me that I was replaceable. And that, if I didn’t hurry up and get my ass back on the ice, I’d be history. It was nice hearing that my spot wasn’t going anywhere.
When I left the house two hours ago, Paige was sleeping. And now that I’m home, about to walk in, I’m not sure if she’ll be happy, sad, or pissed.
I guess I’m about to find out.
Turning the doorknob, I push the door open and step inside. I shut it behind me and take my shoes off, letting my nose inhale the scent of whatever Paige is cooking.
As I breathe in the smells, I close my eyes. For a moment, I stand there and pretend like everything is fine. And that we never parted ways.
My eyes flutter open, and a calmness washes over me, simply from having my wife home. And knowing I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep her here.
As I head toward the kitchen, I find her pulling something from the oven. When she turns toward me to set it down, wearing the cat-lover pot holders on her hands that I got her for Christmas years ago, I take in the sight of the spiral ham, covered in brown sugar glaze and pineapples. It’s always been one of my favorite meals, and she knows it too.
When she sets it down and sees I’m watching her, her eyes widen, and her cheeks turn a rose color. When we were happily married, she would have rushed over and leaped into my arms and giggled. But now, it’s almost like we’re getting acquainted with each other all over again.
Except earlier today, we got reacquainted with fucking each other with our hands.
Her hair is messily pulled halfway up. And she’s wearing one of the shirts she left here, which has a grumpy-looking cat on the front, and a pair of leggings that looks like they’re painted on her legs, making my mouth water and my cock twitch, and I already want her again.
“Hi,” she says, her voice faint. “How was your drive with Coach Jacobs?”
“It was good,” I say, taking a seat across from her on the barstool and holding the bag up. “I got you something,”
Her eyes float to the bag, and she slowly reaches across the countertop and takes it from me. When she peeks inside, a grin spreads across her plump lips before she holds up the cake pop.
“You went to Starbs?”
“Coach did, and then he bitched about his coffee the entire time.” I laugh. “Saw those and figured I’d feed your addiction.”
Paige goes to Starbucks damn near every single day. And even though her coffee order seems to change with the season, she always gets a cake pop. At least, she used to. But somehow, I think that’s something about her that hasn’t changed. I hope not anyway.
“Now, I want this and not ham.” She giggles before setting it down. “Thanks, Kolt. Did you and Coach Jacobs have a good talk? How do you feel?”
“I feel better,” I tell her honestly. “This whole time, suppose I’ve been worried that I was about to be replaced. But he told me that’s not going to happen.”
“I knew that much,” she says, grinning at me as she reaches into the refrigerator and takes out a stick of butter. “You’re too good to be replaced. The entire world sees it; I wish you would too.”
After cutting into the butter, she tosses a pad of it into the bowl and begins to mash the potatoes. My mouth waters, but it’s not for the meal as much as it is for my wife and watching her hands wrap around the masher.
“Yeah, I don’t know. Guess we’ll see how I fare when I return to the ice. This is the longest break I’ve had since I was seventeen years old, I think.” I change the subject. “How was your nap”—I can’t stop the grin that pulls at my lips—“with Ted?”