Page 14 of Center Ice
“Because we’re perpetually overbooked. But if the project is small, we might be able to fit it in,” I say, then I glance over at Jameson. “What was it you were looking for?”
“The electric air pump. We ordered a bounce house for the backyard for the twins, and I thought it came with one, but it didn’t.”
“It’s probably in the storage closet off the playroom,” I tell him as I nod my chin toward the door that leads to the playroom Jules built for Graham so he’d have somewhere safe to hang out while we worked. She added a climbing wall with harnesses last year, once he was old enough to safely use it, and the slide into the ball pit is still in one corner. Lauren’s twins love to play down here with Graham when she and Jameson are over.
As he moves into the playroom, I grab my iPad from where it sits on the table and say, louder than necessary, because I want Jameson to hear, “So tell me more about your project.”
“My mom has Parkinson’s.” The statement is quiet but decisive, a nod to the reality of living through a terrible disease. “I don’t know how much you know about the disease, but it doesn’t shorten your lifespan; it just takes away your ability to live normally. She was diagnosed right before I graduated?—”
“Drew.” The word is practically whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He’d never mentioned anything about this, even though it means that he’d found out during the second semester of his senior year, when I was still tutoring him. He’d always seemed so carefree, and now I wonder if at least part of that was an act?
“It was really hard to leave her when I was drafted, but she was doing okay for the first few years. My older sisters both live on the same street, so they were there to help her. But it’s become progressively worse lately, and they basically told me they needed me around more. Hence the trade to Boston.”
He swallows, and it’s a deep gulp. There must be so much more to the story that he’s not sharing, but I hope that while he’s out there upending his whole life to come home and help out more, he’s got people around to support him, too.
“I’m sorry. That must be really hard.” I know what it’s like to watch someone’s health fail due to a disease that deteriorates the quality of their life drastically. I watched my mom slowly die from cancer, and my dad succumb to his alcoholism.
“It is what it is,” he says, oblivious to my own experience with sick parents. “I got to spend the whole summer with her…” He glances off across the office and doesn’t say anything for so long that I think maybe he’s not going to finish his sentence. “It was hard to see how much she’s declined.”
“I’m sure,” I say, reaching over to give his arm a supportive squeeze. I immediately wish I’d never touched him because every muscle in his forearm flexes in response to my touch, and I’d rather not know how cut he is under his long-sleeve shirt—especially because I have a thing for forearms. When I pull my hand back quickly, his eyes watch it travel back to my lap.
“So anyway, her Occupational Therapist suggested some changes to her home that might make it easier for to get around now and in the future. Some are minor things, like changing the type of doorknobs. That I can probably take care of, but there are two bigger things. One is turning our first-floor family room into a bedroom, and the other is retrofitting the bathroom?—”
“Found it!” Jameson yells from within the playroom. I let out a sigh of relief, and then he appears at the doorway. “Thanks forthis. I’ll give it back to you Sunday night when you come over for dinner.”
“Alright. Hope the kids love the bounce house. See you this weekend.”
He gives us a nod and heads out the front door of the office, turning and giving us a wave as he leaves.
“Holy shit!” I say, followed by a big sigh as I lean back in my chair. “That was a close call.”
“I take it you still don’t want him to know?” Drew asks as he glances at me sideways. I don’t like how judgmental the question feels.
“Until we’ve figured this out together, why would we want Jameson involved?” I ask as I close my iPad and stand, taking my coffee cup to the sink built into the counters along the wall.
“You’re right,” he says, and I can hear his steps behind me. “Sorry, I just didn’t like the way it felt like I was some secret you were hiding.”
I spin back to face him. “No offense, Drew. But that’s been the case for the last six years. And you can thank me later, because my ability to keep a secret probably saved your NHL career.”
Chapter Seven
DREW
“What do you mean by that?” I ask, trying to keep my tone curious. I don’t want to be combative about this. I understand that I missed the last six years and don’t know what those years have been like for her. But what the hell is she talking about?
“Per the conversation we were having before Jameson showed up, how do you think he would have taken the news that Graham was your child and you didn’t want to take responsibility?”
I step closer so that I’m looking down at her, and I try not to focus on how flushed her cheeks are or the slender column of her neck as she tilts her head up to look at me. “Let’s get absolutely clear on one thing. I wasn’t refusing to take responsibility;I didn’t knowthat we had a kid together. I fully accept responsibility for not listening to your voicemails. It’s my own fault I didn’t know. But I need you to understand that if I’d known about Graham, I absolutely would have been here for you and for him.”
She nods, her lips pressed between her teeth, before she says, “I spent the last six years raising our kid without you while you were off living your NHL life...most of it was really fucking hard,but much of it was also undeniably amazing. And I hated you for missing out on both parts.”
My stomach sinks. I can’t imagine what that was like for her, and I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me for it.
“I regret missing out on all of that. But the reason I didn’t call you back was because I was a mess. I’d moved to a new country, was living away from my family the first time, and had just found out my mom had Parkinson’s. I was just trying to survive.”
She turns around and sets the coffee mug in the sink, then with her back to me, she says, “You sure it’s not because us sleeping together was supposed to be a one-time thing, and you thought I was being needy and not respecting those boundaries?” Her voice is teasing, even though her words aren’t.
