Page 21 of Wake Me Up
“I guess,” he whispers. “Cane is the only one who really remembers our dad. He spent the most time with him. He was seven when Dad died. I just don’t want to make my brother sad. He gave up hockey because itmakes him think of our dad. I’m sure he doesn’t want me throwing it in his face by playing his favorite position too.”
From the outside, looking in, I know he’s being crazy. This is a small problem, and to be honest, Cane probably wouldn’t even think that way about it. I don’t want to downplay his feelings though because he’s a kid worried about his brother.
“What if …” I stop, trying to figure out how the hell to word this without sounding like I’m pushing aside his fears. “What if he isn’t mad at all? What if he’s happy for you?”
He keeps his eyes on the ground without answering.
“Cash, you’re good. You’ve got a ton of talent.” I breathe out a laugh. “You’re probably better than I was at your age, if you want to know the truth.” I sigh, patting his knee. “I think you should talk to your brother. Or maybe your mom. I’m sure she’d know what to say.”
“I guess,” he utters. “Thanks, Tripp.”
“For what?”
“For being my friend,” he answers, taking me by surprise and making me feel this weird sensation in my chest that I’ve honest-to-fuck never felt. “I know it doesn’t seem like much—what you’ve done for me, but I know you helping me has made my mom really happy too.”
Before I answer—or even have time to digest his words—he stands up and nods up at the clock. “We still have fifteen more minutes till my mom gets here.”
Inside, it makes me glad that I’m not just making Cash happy, but his mom too. That woman has been through hell and works her ass off, and she deserves to have a little help with her kids. But I grin because, of course, this kid is worried about getting every second in of this practice. That’s what makes me like working with him so much. I was him at that age. Hungry for more playing time and ready to soak in any extra time on the ice that I could.
I stand, swatting him on the arm before taking a step back toward the ice. “Well then, we’d best get back to work, huh, Moneybags?”
He rolls his eyes but laughs. “You gotta stop calling me that.”
“Your parents named you Cash. No chance in hell, kid. Sorry.”
I rush through the sliding glass doors, absolutely panicked because I’m fifteen minutes late to get Cash and I’m never late. Ever. It’s actually an annoying trait of mine to be on time for everything and be organized too.
It’s not completely my fault though because Cane had to be dropped off at basketball, and then Aviana failed to mention she had a kid’s birthday party tonight until an hour prior, which also meant we needed to stop at the store and get a gift on the way there.
Rushing into the arena, I see Tripp standing down at the bottom of the stands, leaning against the plexiglass. I’ve done well, avoiding him, but I feel the need to explain that I didn’t forget about Cash, that something just came up.
When Tripp joined us for dinner after Cash’s game, I realized how incredibly nervous he made me, and I knew I needed to put some distance between us. I’m not dumb. I know someone like Tripp Talmage would never be into a widowed mother with stretch marks, a flabby tummy, and three kids—one who is almost a teen. But the point is … I enjoy talking to him way too much. And it makes me feel guilty, so I can’t do it. No way am I taking this opportunity away from my son though, so I’ve chosen just to politely stay back.
It became even more obvious that I needed to keep him at arm’s length when my seven-year-old noticed how he made me react. And while, in her head, she thinks we should date, she doesn’t understand that I’m not ready for that. I don’t think I ever will be.
I have my kids and my work, and I don’t think I need to add in anything else. I mean, when would I even find the time?
When I finally reach him, I’m out of breath. I ran from the parking lot and into the building, and that was probably the most running I’ve done in years.
“I am so sorry I’m late,” I huff out, and he turns toward me. Putting my hands on my hips, I drag in a breath. “I had to get Cane to practice and then Avy—well, she suddenly had a birthday party she’d failed to tell meabout.” I throw my hand on top of my head. “I swear, I’m not the mom who is late and leaves my kids with strangers.”
Once I’m done ranting, I look out at the ice, where I see Cash in the center with Walker James, and I smile. “Wow, … he’s … he got to work with him too?”
“He just got here a few minutes ago and offered to take Cash out and show him a few things.” He grins at me, giving my side the slightest nudge. “It worked out for him that you were late, Freya. You can take a breath now.”
I’m caught off guard by his playfulness, but I’m also flattered that he’s trying to make me feel better for being late. He watches the ice again as Walker and Cash make their way farther away from us. Tripp’s body turns slightly toward me, and when I glance up at him, he’s swallowing nervously.
“I don’t know if this is my place or not, so I’m sorry if this comes out the wrong way.” He reaches up, gripping the back of his neck with his hand. “Cash sort of … well, he said why he’s hesitant to play goalie, despite him loving it. Anyway, I told him he should talk to you, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.” He pauses, cringing. “I’m not trying to get in the middle of anything. I’m sorry. I just … I see his potential, and I want him to follow through with this dream if it’s something he wants.”
My first instinct is to narrow my eyes because I’m instantly irked that this man is telling me something about my kid that I don’t even know. When it comes to my children, I am a bit of a control freak who feels the need to know every single detail. But then, when it sets in, I realize that this meant Cash opened up to him, and that’s something I’ve struggled to have him do for years.
Inhaling, I relax. “Why is he hesitant to play goalie?” I ask, even though I think I may know, but I’ve never pushed the issue with Cash.
He glances back out at the ice. “He’s worried it’ll hurt his big brother,” he says honestly. “Because hockey was your husband and Cane’s thing and he was a goalie.” He looks down at me, tilting his head slightly. “To him, Cash is doing something wrong.”
For a moment, I’m speechless. It’s incredibly hard for Cash to open up—to anyone. Same with both of my boys, to be honest. He’s been around Tripp a handful of times, and now, Cash is telling him things that he won’t even talk to me about. Part of that makes me sad, but on the other hand, I’m thankful he has someone he can talk to about his feelings.
“I kind of thought that maybe Cash was worried about that,” I whisper. “But the truth is, I don’t think Cane would ever feel that way.” I can’t stop the tears that threaten to spring into my eyes as I look back out at my son, completely in his element on the ice. “Hockey is painful for Cane now because it was something he and Jamie did. But he’s such a supportive big brother. I really don’t believe Cane would be angry. I think he just wants his brother to be happy.”
