Page 18 of Wake Me Up
I know I’m being weird right now, and I know I could have let it go, but I shouldn’t have to. He may be dead, but we were very much together when he died.
“Oh, I didn’t …” His sentence dies. “I didn’t realize you were still married. I mean, I saw the ring, but then you said it was just you and the kids, and I guess … I don’t really know what I thought.”
My boys waste no time getting in the truck, but instead of one of them sitting in the front, like I hoped, they both get in the back, leaving the front seat open for me.
“He passed away five years ago,” I whisper, not wanting my boys to hear me. “He’s still my husband. He’s just … not here anymore.”
My cheeks are flaming hot, not because I’m embarrassed to talk about my husband, but because I’m wondering how awkward I’m making Tripp feel right now. He was nice enough to care about my kids and their future in hockey, and now, I’m probably making him want to climb under a rock. I mean, what do you say to someone you barely know in this circumstance?
“Fuck, Freya,” he utters, and I don’t have to even look at him to know exactly how he’s gazing at me. With pity, no doubt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t … I had no idea.”
He’s talking to me like we’ve known each other forever, and even though that’s not the case … I feel sort of like it is.
Flashing him a look of reassurance, I shrug myshoulders. “How could you have known? We are basically strangers who have met a few times,” I say gently before glancing at his truck. “The boys are waiting. Guess we’d better go.”
Walking toward his truck, he surprises me when his hand touches my arm. When I turn toward him, his blue eyes stare into mine. “I’m really sorry about your husband, Freya.”
I pull in a sharp breath as tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I swallow back the lump of emotion. “Me too,” I whisper before I turn and climb into the truck.
I feel like I’m making a mistake, going to dinner with a man who makes me feel so … on edge. But it means something to my kids that we do it. So, here I go.
We all have ordered, and now we’re waiting for our food in the back room of this restaurant, out of sight from anyone else. Cane and Freya talk about the baseball camp he wants to go to, and Cash chimes in every now and then.
It’s crazy to be sitting across from a woman who is undoubtedly one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.
She has raised three kids alone. Her youngest would have been just a toddler when she lost her dad and Cash would have been five and Cane seven.
Sadly, I know the loss they felt because I had gone through it too. A loss like that, it changes you. It changed me. And even if they don’t know it yet, it changed them too. It changes the way you trust people. It makes you keep a guard up—scared that if you let someone else in, the world may take them from you too.
Loss has a way of twisting everything, making it all more difficult. I just hope they don’t turn out like me. Thirty-three years old and alone because I’ve spent my whole life avoiding feeling anything.
“What’s it like, being on the ice? Being watched by so many peoplearound the world?” Cane asks me, taking a sip from his Coke. “Do you get nervous?”
“I used to,” I admit. “Now, the goal is sort of like my comfort zone, and I’ve learned to tune it all out. The chants. The screaming and cheering. It’s not being on the ice that gets to me. It’s never wanting to let anyone down that does.”
“Who’s one competitor you hate to see on the ice?” Cash asks me.
I think about it for a moment and grin. “Probably Cam Hardy. He’s lightning fast and as smooth as they come. When we play the Bruins, we all have to be on our toes. But Hunter Thompson? He’s also a tough one.”
“Has it been hard since Kolt had a heart attack?” Cane blurts out, and Freya’s mouth hangs open.
“Cane!” she hisses. “That’s … kind of rude to say.”
“What? He did have a heart attack.” Cane shrugs obliviously.
I try to fight a chuckle as I watch his mom’s eyes narrow to slits.
“It changed our dynamic, not having him out there, for sure,” I tell him truthfully. “We all panicked, thinking our season was in jeopardy. But the team has stepped up our game, and Kolt has been at every practice, helping with the defense side of things. So, we’ve been okay.”
“He has a lot of tattoos,” Cane utters into his glass. “I want a tattoo.”
“You’re twelve. Calm down,” Freya grumbles, shaking her head at her son. “And do I need to remind you that the last time you had blood work, you cri—”
“Okay, okay, fine,” Cane cuts her off, not wanting her to embarrass him. “No tats for me. I get it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says with a smile just before the waitress delivers our food.
It’s not hard to notice their dynamic with it being just them and their mom, and since it’s been like this for five years, I’m sure they’re pretty used to it. It’s more than clear she does a great job and puts them before herself.
