Page 7 of Wake Me Up
It’s moments like this when I really wish their dad were here to tell me what to say to make everything better. He was laid-back, and I’m always afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. Jamie always knew just what to do or say. Me? I never know how to approach it; I just do the best that I can.
“Avy, baby,” I whisper, “I know it feels that way. And trust me, I’d give anything in the world to bring him back. But I promise, he’s looking down on all of us, and he’s so proud.” I give her a tiny smile. “Well, I’m not sure he’d like that you pushed a classmate down, but …”
“I think he’d say that punk deserved it,” Cane chimes in, and I can’t even yell at him because I know he’s right.
Walking around to us, Cane holds his fist out to her, and she taps hers to it.
“That kid is a jerk, Ave. Next time, just come find me. Okay?”
Wiping her eyes with her free hand, she smiles. “Okay,” she whispers before leaning toward me and throwing her arms around my neck.
Kissing the side of her head, I hold her tightly against me. “I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you too,” she whispers weakly, continuing to hold on tight.
It’s been five years since their dad passed, and even though I try to keep his memory alive, it gets harder and harder—especially with Aviana because she was a toddler. What’s worse is, she was our third baby, so wetook the least number of pictures of ourselves with her. With Cane, I’d recorded everything. By the time Avy came around, I was lucky to snap a picture of her monthly in her first year of life.
“Whoa, what’d I miss?” Cash says in true Cash form as he walks into the dining room. “Looks a little intense in here.”
Releasing her slowly, I wipe my eyes and look around at my kids. “Well, I was thinking pizza and ice cream. I mean … if you guys are into it. Maybe you want the veggie stir-fry instead—”
“No, no!” Aviana says quickly, putting her hands on my shoulders. “We want pizza and ice cream!”
I grin at her, winking. “I thought so. Because pizza and ice cream make everything better, don’t they?”
She nods her head, and I hold my smile, even though as an adult, I know pizza and ice cream won’t fix anything, but if I can put a Band-Aid on her pain for a little while … that’s what I’m going to do.
And even though I know her oldest brother can be a major thorn in my side, she’s so lucky to have him. She’s lucky to have both of her brothers.
Iglance up at the huge-ass clock to see the time. The skills clinic is nearly over, and I’ll even say it … it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it was going to be. I’m also really impressed with some of the kids, but one in particular who I learned is only ten.
And for ten, he’s damn fucking good on the ice. He needs some corrections here and there, but as soon as I give them, he picks up on it so fast. And best of all, he’s respectful.
Truthfully, if all kids are this coachable, I may consider taking on a coaching gig once my time in the NHL comes to an end. Well, I don’t know if I’d go that extreme, but … maybe.
“Look at you, enjoying yourself,” Ryder utters to me. “Shit, I think I even saw you smile a few times. You must like kids more than you think you do.”
“Do not,” I say back. “Let’s just get through these last ten minutes, asshole.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” he says, saluting me and skating back toward his group.
Now that the clinic is over, most of the kids have left after getting their participation T-shirt from us, but a few stragglers are still around. One of them, Cash, and his mother are still here. It’s not because they are slow in leaving, but because I did something I never do, and I went over to talk to her after the clinic was done.
“He’s real good,” I tell her, trying not to stare too hard, but, damn, she’s so pretty. Naturally too.
I don’t think she has an ounce of makeup on, and herdirty-blonde hair is just piled in a messy bun, like she ran out of the house in a hurry, and yet she’s stunning. She doesn’t look old enough to have a ten-year-old, and I can’t help but wonder if she had Cash really young or if she just looks good for whatever age she is.
She smiles at him proudly, ruffling his hair. “Thank you. He really,reallyloves to play.”
“I can tell,” I say honestly.
It was easy to tell which kids genuinely wanted to be here today at this clinic and which ones were probably here because their parents had forced them to be. This kid, he soaked in every second of it. He asked questions. He took criticism and corrected what we told him to. He did it all with a good attitude too.
And something else I noticed and appreciated? He hustled.
After a few seconds of silence, she gives me a small, shy smile. Her eyes look my way, but they don’t fully connect with mine.
“Well, thank you again.” She turns toward Cash. “Ready, bud?”
