I ended up being cruel to Kate that night. I could tell by the look on her face that I’d hurt her feelings by showing absolute indifference to her state of undress. My words may not have been directly aimed at her personally, but I made it clear that I didn’t find anything special about her standing in my kitchen in her pajamas.
Fat fucking lie.
She was beyond extraordinary, but there was no way I could ever let her know that. So maybe I invited her to the game tonight as a means of atoning for my cruelty. Certainly not because she now has me intrigued and I want to know more about her.
I cut a glance to my left and see that Kate is in deep discussion with Sutton. I wonder what they’re talking about. Once again, Kate is back to her attempt at the plain Jane look. Her hair is pulled back from her face and she’s in faded jeans two sizes too big. I was surprised to find her wearing a black Cold Fury hoodie sweatshirt when she came downstairs tonight. It was faded and clearly well worn, but it told me that she was indeed a hockey fan, which I very much liked. And her biggest coat of armor: those thick-framed glasses that are so obvious and bulky on her face that they tend to obscure the rest of her image.
Not from me, though. I got a good look at what was underneath and now all I see are delicate facial features, creamy skin, and sexy-as-hell lips.
Fuck me standing, she’s an enigma, and it makes my head hurt thinking about it.
Turning to my right, I reach over and grab Ben out of his seat, stand up, and turn to plop him down where I had been sitting. “Here…you sit next to Kate for the game,” I tell him.
He gives me a toothy grin as I take the seat next to Olivia. Kate briefly turns, shoots both of us a smile, and ruffles Ben’s hair in acknowledgment.
Turning to Olivia, I ask her, “So how are you feeling? Garrett said you had your last treatment not long ago.”
She nods and smiles. “Last week, actually, and I’m feeling great. I’ll have another bone-marrow biopsy next month to see if I’ve gone into remission.”
Olivia has cancer—follicular B-cell lymphoma—and she’s been getting chemotherapy for the past six months. I understand from Garrett that her prognosis is good, yet it’s a disease that can’t readily be cured…just sort of battled back into remission. As I start to come out of my cocoon of grief, I consider things such as this that have been going on without me really knowing about them. I have guilty feelings about not being available to Garrett as he’s been going through this with her, and I resolve to myself to try to be more present in my friends’ lives. God knows they stood by me the last four months.
I nod at her. “You’ve been through a lot, but Garrett’s been keeping me in the loop. I’m sorry I haven’t been around that much to offer support.”
Olivia gives me a knowing smile and pats me on the arm. “You’ve had your own worries. So Garrett said the wrist is doing great and you’ll be back in the lineup on Saturday. How psyched are you for that?”
I can’t help the truly lighthearted smile I return to her. I could kiss Olivia for glossing over my personal tragedy, because I’m not up to talking to anyone about it. She didn’t mention the accident or Gina, which helps to keep the feelings of pain and guilt at bay. I’ve been managing to push all those feelings down and away, not fully ready to deal with them just yet. I’ve tried to scrub the memories of that night from my brain, choosing instead to focus on getting on with my life and trying to be a good parent to Ben.
And because Olivia brought up my return to hockey, a subject that causes me true happiness, I launch into telling her all about how practice has gone this week. We chat about the season and how well it’s going for the Cold Fury. We’re currently first in our division and second in the Eastern Conference. The playoffs are a done deal and we have a decent shot at a run at the Cup this year, a goal that I thirst for with a vengeance. It’s every hockey player’s dream to hoist the Cup over his head and take that lap around the ice with it. It’s nice to be back in a place again where I can actually have hopes and dreams to aspire to.
—
The game is over and Ben is conked out. He made it halfway through the third period before crawling onto my lap and going to sleep. Even when the Cold Fury won and the arena erupted in cheers as the players left the ice, Ben didn’t stir at all. Poor little guy. He had so much fun for the actual part of the game he did watch, he just wore himself out.
I enjoyed watching him and Kate together without an ounce of jealousy creeping in for once. They had apparently worked on a little victory hand-slap type of cheer today to perform when the Cold Fury scored. When they did it the first time, I just stared in amazement as they slapped hands back and forth, bumped elbows, and then did some funky dance that had everyone laughing. The entire game, the two of them were practically out of their seats the entire time, cheering for the Cold Fury and yelling at the other players.