Page 16 of Wake Me Up
She’s been a ball of nerves since the game started. Her hands have been tucked under her chin while she chews on her bottom lip aggressively.
“He’s doing great.”
She lets out a long breath, along with a laugh, rocking forward slightly. “I’m just so nervous for him. It’s a lot of pressure.” Stopping, she smacks her forehead lightly with her palm. “What am I even saying? You know how much pressure it is. Times a billion!”
I do understand the pressure—she’s right about that. And I’d like to say the pressure you feel goes away, the longer you play, but truth be told, the more hype I got over the years, the harder I was on myself to live up to everyone’s expectations of me. I became fixated on never letting anyone down, and that’s a whole lot of weight to shoulder.
“It is,” I say, not trying to deny it. “But if he wants this, if he wants a future on the ice, he’s going to have to get used to the pressure because there will never be a shortage of it—that’s for sure.”
She’s silent, and I wonder if I said something wrong. But then she finally speaks. Her voice is small. “As a parent, I just don’t know what to do. Do I help him to excel so that he can take this as far as possible? Or … do I lead him toward a simpler path, where maybe high school hockey is it for him?” She sighs. “I know the chances of going pro are very slim, but even playing at a college level can be a lot. And the injuries?” I can practically hear her wince. “I hate to even think of that.”
She’s asking me a loaded question, and I don’t even really know how to answer it. Nobody pushed me to go pro. I did it because I was good, and I wanted to give my mom and sister the best life I could after they suffered the loss of my dad. I wanted to provide for them and try to bring them some form of happiness that I didn’t think any of us had felt since he had taken his last breath. But I can’t tell this woman that. I don’t even know her.
I can’t tell her that as great of a life that the NHL has given me, it’s not all happy times. Being at the top can be incredibly lonely, but it’s hard to know who wants you for you and who wants you because they know you have money and fame.
“Support, but never push. Encourage, but don’t force anything,” I say low. “If he wants it, don’t be the one to stand between him and his dream.” I look over at her. “The only thing I hate to see is when a parent forces their child to do something because maybe they didn’t fulfill their dreams, so they are living through their kids.” I pause. “I don’t see that in you. Not at all. So, I think you’re doing well.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “That’s actually … really good advice.”
I expect her to look away from me, but for once, she doesn’t. I take advantage of the opportunity to look at her pretty face and study her eyes. They are brown, but almost like a warm honey color that’s being hit by the sun. They are soft and comforting, and I don’t even know who the fuck I am for noticing it.
I’ve never been the guy to look into a woman’s eyes and care about all the different hues, but with her, I want to memorize them before she looks away to hide from me, like she always does.
She gives me one last smile before looking back at the ice, and I fight my own grin because even though she didn’t touch me, that’s the closest I’ve ever felt to her before.
I want to know what happened to her husband, but I know it’s not something I can just come out and ask, especially when she’s this guarded. If he left her … he’s an idiot. But if he upped and left, that must have been the hardest thing to do. To leave her and those amazing kids? I can’t even imagine it.
I’ve never been one who brings home a new woman every night. I hook up occasionally, sure. I had a girlfriend a few years back for six months, but she wasn’t the one, so we split up.
I don’t fall asleep thinking about anything other than my next game and things I need to work on in the goal. So, why the hell has Freya been on my mind each night since the first time I saw her?
And why am I here, right now, sitting beside her at this game? Or why does it make me mad every time I look down at her finger and see that ring, reminding me that in some way, shape, or form … she’s taken?
I don’t have any of the answers. All I know is, she’s single, and this won’t be the last time I see her. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
As I walk outside to the parking lot to wait for Cash after the game’s over, I’m painfully aware of the man standing beside me. I don’t know why Tripp isn’t leaving, but I wish he would. If people see him standing beside me, they are going to talk. I don’t want the rumor going around that I’ve moved on. I can’t do that to Jamie or my kids. I vowed forever, and I don’t want others thinking I broke my vow.
I don’t want my kids thinking that either.
Not to mention, he makes me incredibly nervous, and my legs almost forget to work when he’s beside me. I glance nervously at Tripp, not really understanding why he’s still here. Don’t get me wrong; he’s nice to look at, but he should really go.
“Thanks for coming.” I smile politely. “I’m sure it meant so much to Cash to have you here.” I dig in my purse to find my keys. “And I bet Cane enjoyed seeing you again too. Wherever he is.”
“You played one helluva game, kid.” Tripp pats Cash’s shoulder just as Cane catches up to us all. “If you’re ever up for it, I could work with you a bit. Give you some private lessons?”
“Hell yes!” Cash says and snaps his eyes to mine before I have the chance to tell him to watch his mouth. “Sorry.”
Tripp surprises me when he looks over at Cane too. “That goes for you too. If you ever want to get back in the arena, I’d love to see whatcha got.”
For a split second, Cane almost looks excited. But then he shrugs it off politely. “Thanks, but I’m focusing on baseball. But I appreciate it.”
Cane is coming off more standoffish than usual, and I just hope it’s not because he thinks I’m getting too close with Tripp. That is the furthest thing from the truth because I don’t even know the guy.
“Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know,” Tripp says, waving to all of us. “Have a good night, y’all.”
“You too,” I say lightly. “Thanks again for coming to watchthe game.”
“My pleasure,” he drawls before slowly spinning away from us and walking away.
