Page 117 of What if It's Us

“Mmm,” he murmurs, half-asleep. “Love you too, Smoothie Monster.”

19 WEEKS

The bedroom door is cracked open when my bladder wakens me in the middle of the night, a soft blue glow coming from down the hallway. I reach out my hand for Ledger but he’s not in bed with me.

Odd.

He usually sleeps like the dead.

I take care of business in the bathroom and then pad down the hall to the kitchen to refill my water bottle, still no sight of Ledger. With one hand resting on the swell of my belly, I take a few sips of water and glance around the dark living room. Everything feels still. Too still for a home that’s quickly filling with the weight of what’s to come.

On my way back down the hall I follow the glow of the soft blue light and find Ledger sitting on the couch in his guestroom that will soon become the nursery. He’s in the dark except for the small lamp on the bedside table, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His silhouette is solid, quiet… heavy. Like he’s holding something too big for just one person.

“Hey,” I say gently, setting my water bottle on the dresser. “You okay?”

He looks up, startled. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s been staring too long at nothing. He tries to muster a smile, but it barely lifts one corner of his mouth.

My heart!

Something isn’t right.

“Yeah, fine,” he lies. “Just thinking.”

I don’t push right away. I just sit next to him, close enough that our knees touch so he can feel me close to him. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“Have I been that obvious?”

“Maybe I’m just extra observant.” I nudge him gently. “You want to talk about it?”

I can’t imagine whatever is on his mind is hockey related. That stuff doesn’t bother him so much, which means his anxiety…his stress…it has to be about our babies.

Silence stretches between us like taut string and then he finally exhales.

“I’m scared, Marlee.”

I blink. That’s not something Ledger says out loud very often. At least not to me. He doesn’t say it on the ice. He doesn’t admit it in a press conference. Definitely not in the safety of his home, where he’s always trying so hard to be strong.

“I’m really fucking scared,” he repeats, voice cracking.

I tenderly place my hand over his. “Is this about the babies?”

He nods. “I’m about to be a dad.”

This time I turn my body toward him and place my other hand gently on his back. “You’re already being a dad, Ledger.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean… yeah, technically. But I don’t feel like I know how to be one, Mar. And I keep thinking… what if I screw them up? The babies. What if I mess up completely? What if I screw you up too? What if I hurt you?”

“Where is this coming from?” I shake my head, even though I already know. He mentioned it months ago and we’ve tiptoed around it ever since.

He leans back, staring at the ceiling like maybe the truth’s written up there.

“My dad killed my mom, Marlee,” he explains. “And I’ve hated him for it for as long as I can remember. I don’t have any memories of my mother beyond a few pictures I’ve seen. I don’t have any happy memories of my childhood with my real parents and then after they were gone…it was all shit.” More tears stream down his face. “What if I could become him? All it takes is one weak moment. One mistake. One bad night.”

“Ledge…”

“I never had someone show me how to be a good man. A good husband. A good father,” he says, his voice raised a bit. “I just had trauma. And empty holidays. And hand-me-downs from strangers who didn’t want me. I didn’t find Rebecca and Nick until I was almost in high school. My entire childhood was…damaged. It was pain. It was distress. It was one failure afteranother. And now I’ve got three babies on the way, and I can’t stop thinking—what if I pass that damage down to them?”

My heart shatters into a million pieces for the man sitting next to me as a few tears slide down his cheeks. Broken but so wholesomely beautiful. His body is trembling like he’s been holding this in way too long, and it’s finally splintering through.

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