Page 12 of Sticking Around

My heart drops to my stomach, pushing the fish I’d just eaten back up into my throat. “Right. I understand.” What I understand is that I’m a guy she only wants to have a good time with. Not a guy she could ever open her heart to. Honestly, it seems to be the curse of our team. I’m not the only one known for a good time.

The stricken look on her face at having said too much is a reminder of what I am to her and what’s going on here. Hell, I could easily tell her I’m not that guy. But then what? What if she wanted more? Shit, she just told me she was basically neglected and never had anyone who was there for her. Christ, I can’t be there for her. I’m not the guy to take that on. I have far too many people counting on me. Every time I hand over money, I’m reminded of that and the fact that Dad’s life insurance paid for my hockey instead of buying things my mother needed. It’s always there, lingering in every conversation I have with my mother.

I’m also reminded of that one time, right after I got my license at sixteen and decided to have some fun, for once in my life. I ended up in the hospital and couldn’t be there for anyone…and then my mother…she had a fall. Bile punches into my throat and a hard quiver goes through me at that horrible reminder, and the painful aftermath. That’s when I realized I need to be on high alert at all times. I don’t ever want to let anyone down again. Not my mother, my family, my team…or this woman. Jesus, I never should have slept with Lanie. I like her too much to let her down, and I just can’t be responsible for even one more person.

“Brady?”

I pull myself out of my stupor and focus on the beautiful woman beside me. She just told me something private and personal, and even though she’s regretting it, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear it or that she doesn’t need some kind of response. “If you want to talk about it...”

She gives a wave of her hand to brush it off, but she just put painful parts of her past out there and it’s hard for me to unhear them—not that I’d want to, but it does give me a bit of insight into her, and will always remind me I’m not the guy she needs in her life. “No, what I’m trying to say is you don’t need to hear my problems.”

I shift on the sofa until I’m facing her, and cup the side of her face. Despite the lecture I’d just given myself, and knowing better than to get in deeper, I ask, “Do you want to open your own practice, or do you want to work in a school, or maybe a hospital?”

Her eyes soften, the former panic somewhat dissipating, but she’s still a bit guarded. “I’d actually like to work in a school. I think a less clinical environment can help kids open up.”

“What grades are you thinking?”

“All, really. It wasn’t until my senior year that I managed to talk to someone. I guess I’d still been holding out hope until then.”

She spent all those years holding out hope that someone would be there for her. Jesus. What the fuck was wrong with her parents?

I wait for her to continue, but instead she stifles a yawn. I give her a reassuring smile, understanding she’s ready to call it a night, and maybe this conversation has gone as far as she wants to take it. “You’re going to be great, Lanie.”

“Did you always want to play hockey?” she asks quietly, her voice less harsh and accusatory this time, and I pull her to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Dad always wanted me to play hockey. He loved watching the games and I think he secretly wanted to be in the NHL. The opportunity was never there for him growing up, though.” A beat of silence and then, “He died on the fishing boats when I was only eight. It was just Mom and me after that.” Fuck, what is going on with the two of us? I lean forward to look out the window. Must be a full moon or something. I don’t talk about my past and I’m pretty damn sure Melanie doesn’t either. She wouldn’t have acted like she just spilled military secrets if she had.

Her head lifts and concerned eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry, Brady.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago.” I yawn, and lightly run my fingers through her hair. “I still miss him.”

I guide her head back to my shoulders. “Of course, you do. Is your…”

“Yeah, Mom is alive. Still in Paradise, a small coastal town in Newfoundland. That’s where I grew up.”

“Paradise, sounds nice.”

I snort at that and when she tries to lift her head, I gently hold it down, worried that my eyes hold too much pain. “Yeah, tourists seem to like the icebergs.”

“Wow, I’d love to see one someday. Paradise…” she murmurs under her breath.

I laugh and without thinking, say, “Our sign says ‘population four hundred’. I can’t tell you how many times the kids would mess with the sign and spray paint, ‘A nice place to visit, wouldn’t want to live there.’”

“That’s awful.” She looks at me. “Wait, you did that, didn’t you?”

I lift my chin an inch. “I admit to nothing.”

“Is your family still there?”

“Lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins. All in the fishing industry. I’m the only one who ever left.”

“You must miss them.” I don’t answer. I stay quiet and she continues, “Fishing. That’s big business in Newfoundland, right?”

“Used to be. Lots of overfishing and new government regulations make it hard now.”

“I had no idea.”

“There is a processing plant in the next city over, though. Good steady work there. If you’re fit and able,” I add.

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