Page 102 of When Alec Met Evie
I’m on it. Take your time.
Evie
Thank you!
Ruth answers the door on the first knock, Juno tucked into her hip. She smiles wide when she sees me.
“Hi, Ruth,” I say. “I’m here to pick up Juno. Evie said you have an appointment.”
Ruth glances at her watch. “Come on in,” she says. “You’re early, so I haven’t packed up her stuff, but it should only take a minute.”
She hands me Juno, then bustles around the room, adding diapers and bottles and jars of baby food into the bag.
“Is Juno eating solid food?” I ask.
“Just started,” Ruth says. “So far, she loves the bananas but hates the peas.”
Something like hurt tiptoes up my spine. Evie didn’t tell me. Juno started solid food, and Evie didn’t mention it.
It’s not like I have a right to know. But before my injury, she was constantly sharing her notes about milestones, her debatesabout how long is too long and how soon is too soon. The fact that she hasn’t shared this is on me.
Because I’ve been checked out. Wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself.
Once Juno’s belongings are in her bag and she’s bundled up for the short walk home, I thank Ruth and make my way up the hill to Evie’s house.
It’s not until we’re inside and unpacked and sitting on Evie’s couch that I realize all the times I’ve ever taken care of Juno, Evie has always been with me. But this time, I’m alone.
Ruth at least told me she just had a bottle, so she doesn’t need to eat. Maybe we can just hang out? Roll around in circles?
I put Juno on the floor in front of me, flat on her back. “Okay, Juno. You want to roll?”
She stares up at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
“Not in the mood for rolls, huh? Maybe we can watch some TV?”
I scoop Juno back up and settle on the couch, extending my braced knee so it’s resting on the coffee table.
She rubs her eyes like she’s sleepy, so I grab her pacifier, giving it to her before tucking her against my chest. To my surprise, she settles right down and eventually falls asleep.
I hold her for a long time, even after I know Evie would have insisted I move her to her crib. But sitting here with Juno, holding her like this, feels like the perfect time to be honest with myself.
It’s time for my hockey career to end.
I wait for the wave of dread that’s been chasing me all week, but with my hand on Juno’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breaths, the dread never comes.
I think I’ve known all along it was time to be done, even before my injury. I just wanted to believe I had more time. I was managing the pain, but managing the pain came at a cost, andwhen I pushed myself as hard as I should have been pushing, it was too much.
I can’t keep doing that to my team. Make them accommodate, make up for my limitations.
Especially not when Theo was right.
I really do have something else worth living for.
After another few minutes, my knee starts to feel stiff, so I carefully stand and carry Juno back to her crib. When she’s settled and quiet and I’m sure she isn’t going to wake up, I head back to the living room where I spend a few minutes doing a few easy stretches to loosen up my knee.
It’s almost five, which means Evie should be getting home any minute, so I sit back down and reach for the remote, hoping there’s a hockey game on to help me pass the time. Not that I mind waiting. I owe Evie an apology and a long conversation. I’ll wait all night if I have to.
Half an hour later, footsteps sound on the porch, and I sit up, turning off the TV as I do. I expect her to just walk in, but then someone knocks instead.
