Page 57 of Unravel Me

Something about a pretty girl in your clothes, wrapped up in your smell…it never gets old.

Bear pushes between us, setting his chin on the edge of the tub. Connor rests his forehead against Bear’s as he whispers, “Hi, big dog,” and everything feels exactly right with these three beside me.

“I’m really happy you can stay,” I say to Rosie as she changes Connor into his pajamas, lays him down in the playpen.

“I wasn’t expecting him to do so well for his nap here. He sleeps in my room at home, and we always make it back for naps.” She pushes his hair back, smiling down at his tired eyes. “I guess I don’t give him enough credit.”

“I don’t think that’s it. You have your routine, and it’s not always easy to stray outside of our routines.” I nudge her shoulder with mine. “It’s about giving up that little bit of control, right?”

“Which I have a hard time doing,” she admits.

“But you’re doing great.”

Her smile is soft and grateful. “Thank you for saying that, Adam.”

“Mama.” Connor pats around the playpen. “Cat?”

“Oh shoot. That’s right.” She grabs her bag off the bed and roots around before pulling out a fluffy, orange stuffed cat. “He doesn’t do bedtime without Cat.”

Connor shuffles to his feet, rubbing his eyes with his fists, Cat tucked under his arm. “Mama, kiss?”

Rosie takes his face in his hand, pressing a kiss to his forehead, both cheeks, and finally his lips. “Good night, baby. Mama loves you.”

Connor reaches for me. “Dada, kiss?”

I plant a loud smooch on his forehead. “Good night, little trouble.”

With Rosie’s hand in mine, I guide her out of the room, turning off the light and quietly shutting the door. She’s all nerves right now, fidgety fingers and bouncing eyes, the golden glow of the setting sun streaming through the windows, illuminating the freckles on her nose.

“I’m just gonna call my roommate for advice,” she blurts, then smacks her forehead. “To tell him I’ll be home later, I mean.”

“Meet me out back when you’re ready.” I kiss her cheek. “I hope he gives good advice.”

There’s a weird zap of electricity running through me as I get the yard set up, Bear trailing my heels as I go. I’m nervous, but that Rosie is nervous, too, is comforting. Despite my desperate yearning for a solid foundation, a meaningful connection, and a life to share with someone, I’ve felt slightly off-kilter since I stumbled into Rosie those weeks ago. I know exactly where I want to take things, but in all my attempts to move forward over the last year, I haven’t ever actually moved in that direction. Each step forward has ended with two backward. Each date ending in disaster, every time my face has been splashed on some social media outlet next to a woman’s I barely knew, I’ve retreated further into the shadows, clung tighter to every piece of me.

I want to give those pieces to Rosie. I want to open my clenched fists, show her the pieces with shaky hands, and ask her to take me anyway, to like me for me.

For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be Adam Lockwood, Vancouver Viper, all-star goalie. I just want to be…

I just want to fuckingbe. I want to exist exactly as I am. I want to be a loyal friend, a loving son. I want to be dependable and kind and generous because I like to be, not because I have to be. I want to be a partner, someone’s best friend, the steady hand on their back when they need to be held up, the fingers laced through theirs to walk through life together.

I want to be Adam.

And like it always has, hockey will only get in the way of that.

The patio door opens, sending my heart into a tailspin, pattering against my sternum like heavy rain beating down on a tin roof. My fingers curl into my palms as I take a breath, hoping to slow the racing beat and every erratic thought in my head, and I turn around.

Rosie’s a vision, a flawless beauty bathed in the dusky gold glow of twilight, scattered fragments of lavender and peach reflecting off the water, the twinkly lights illuminating the wonder in her gaze as it skates around the yard, taking it all in.

She takes a hesitant step forward, then another, one hand at her throat, the other clutching the hem of my T-shirt she wears. “Adam, this is gorgeous.”

“Yeah? I, uh…” I rush to the gazebo, scooping up the flowers I’d had sitting in my dining room all day. I offer them to Rosie with a shaky hand. “I got you more peonies. I hope that’s okay.”

“Thank you.” She takes them with a smile and looks at the inflatable mattress set on the grass, topped with pillows and blankets. “And that?”

“I thought, if you wanted to, we could, um…”

She threads her fingers through mine and squeezes, gentle pressure that settles my heartbeat. I try again.

---