Page 161 of Friendzone Hockey
“That’s what makes you so brave and not, in any way, a shitty husband.”
He smiles. “Can I show you something? It’s in the journal.” I frown, and he laughs. “The book’s not gonna bite me. And I won’t read anymore—tonight—promise. It’s just a few pictures.”
“You won’t read any more of it alone, either.”
“Alright, Captain Alderchuck. Now can I get the pictures?”
I rake my eyes over him. He’s better. Just some fresh tear trails. I wipe those away with my thumb. All gone.
“Okay.”
He hands me some old-ass pictures with terrible pixelation. My throat thickens with emotion.
“Oh my god. He looks just like us.” There are a few differences because we have some of our Mom’s features too, but we look like father and sons. He’s holding us in the picture, me on one side, Casey on the other.
“Your dad was hot,” Dash says. “Look at the next thing.”
His hockey card. Huh. There he is, forever trapped in time at that age, which would have been somewhere close to our ages now. “His name was Aaron Myles. Our middle names.” Casey’s middle name is Myles. I love having a piece of him with us.
“Yeah, I don’t know the ins and outs of that one because I suspect when you were born your surname was Myles, which is weird. I can’t picture you as anything but Alderchuck. So maybe she changed things when he died.”
“Did she ever get the divorce?”
“Nope.”
She wanted to keep him forever.
A big knot, an old one, releases, expelling years of … what? Guilt? Sadness? Pain? I didn’t want to deal with Mom’s stuff because I knew most of it was cheap trinkets and thread-worn clothing. I didn’t want to look over her life and pine for what she never had. Mom was special, I wish she’d had the chance to have a special life.
But look, she did. Dad meant so much to her that she never bothered to find love again. I always thought it was because of me and Casey. It wasn’t. She found the love of her life, her happy ever after. Someone she loved so much that she couldn’t see herself with anyone else.
I get it. Dash is it for me.
“But since, in Canada, you only have to assume your spouse’s name,” he continues, “it was simple for her to switch back to her maiden name. Ask me how I know about that process.” He raises amused eyebrows.
“You said you were fine with it.”
“How was I supposed to say no when you gave me the signature Alderchuck kicked puppy dog eyes?”
“Wish I felt bad about that one, but I don’t.” I smirk.
“Then you admit it.”
“I admit nothing, Mr. Alderchuck.”
He beams. He loves being Mr. Alderchuck. “One more thing before we stop talking about sad and terrible things, and then I do need to stop.”
I push the hair off his face.
“I’m going to see about being a healthy scratch this season—just for a couple of months,” he says when he can see all the objections in my eyes. “The Robin thing gives me a good reason, and it’s mostly my reason, but I want to see if I’m ready to retire. I’ve played a solid career, the average length for a lot of players.”
“You know how I feel about you quitting hockey.”
“And you know how I feel about being away from you.”
“Was this the work of Mama’s journal? I’m banning it. You’ve read enough.”
“Stacey.” I try to calm down. It’s not working very well. “Yes, and no. It made me think about things for sure, but I’d already been contemplating it. I still haven’t told you about how rough the year was without you. I almost came home in the middle of the season, and my sessions with Billy went from once a week to three to four times a week. Hockey’s not worth that kind of stress to me.”
