Page 60 of Center Ice
“I never imagined this scene, though,” she says as she watches Drew show Graham how to release the football.
Me either.“He’s great with kids.”
“He’s great withhis son,” she says, turning to look at me. I can’t hide my shocked reaction, but I clench my teeth together before my jaw falls open.
I try to speak, but all that comes out is a breathy sigh. Finally, I manage to ask, “H-how did you know?”
“Besides the way Drew looks at him? Graham is a carbon copy of him at that age. Even the way he speaks is the same. Reading on the couch with him was like getting to revisit my son’s childhood.” She pauses for a moment as her eyes fill with tears. “I’m not sure how we got here, but I’m sure glad we’ve arrived.”
She reaches out a shaky hand, and I take it, knowing it’s a gift that she’s offering it—knowing there are a thousand different ways this conversation could have gone, and appreciating that she’s welcoming me and Graham into her family without questioning how we got here.
I give her a gentle squeeze, and then she says, “Do you want to see pictures of Drew when he was younger, so you’ll know what I mean?”
“I’d love to.”
She crosses to the other side of the room and grabs a thick photo album off a shelf, returning to the couch and sitting. I take one more look at the backyard, where Graham is running and looking over his shoulder, waiting for Drew to throw him the ball. My heart hurts—both because of how this scene squeezes all my emotions until I feel like I’ll burst, and also because of all the years Graham missed with Drew.
If I’m being honest, maybe also because him being back in my life is bittersweet—he’s much more like the boy I adored incollege than like the wild pro-hockey player the media makes him out to be. Maybe I bought into those rumors because I wanted them to be true, but in my heart of hearts, I knew Drew was a good person.
And he’s been nothing but good to me since he’s been back.
I sit next to Mrs. Jenkins while she flips through some old photos of Drew, and I see exactly what she means. Graham does look just like him.
“Oh, this one is my favorite,” she laughs, showing me a picture of Drew when he was probably Graham’s age, sitting naked on the toilet, making a face like he’s trying to poop.
I burst out laughing. “You must love showing this picture off any time Drew brings someone home.”
“That would require him having ever brought a girl home.”
“What?” I let out a nervous laugh. “He’s never even had a girlfriend he brought home?”
“He always insisted that the first girl he brought home would be the woman he was going to marry.”
That information hits me like a lead weight. “Well, I guess he’s making an exception for the mother of his child. Do you mind if we don’t mention this conversation to him when he comes in? Graham doesn’t know yet, and I’d like for Drew and me to be able to talk to him first, and for you and Drew to have a chance to talk about all this without me and Graham around.”
She looks at me like I just said the dumbest thing in the world, but then her face gets a far-away look. I’m about to ask if she’s okay, when I hear a feminine voice call out “Ma?” from the front room.
Mrs. Jenkins’s head snaps toward the door, then she grasps my hand where it sits on the photo album and gives me another little squeeze. “Don’t mind Caitlyn,” she says quietly. “She’s prickly.”
Ahhh, Drew’s oldest sister. The one who he said is deeply unhappy, and therefore makes everyone else unhappy. Awesome.
“Back here,” Mrs. Jenkins calls out, and when she goes to stand, she struggles a bit, so I give her my arm for support.
She’s just reached a full standing position when Caitlyn bursts through the open doorway and comes to a halting stop, eyeing me suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Audrey Flynn. I’m the architect Drew hired to draw up some plans for converting this space to a primary bedroom for your mom.”
Her gaze narrows.Shit.I shouldn’t have made it clear that I knew who she was even before meeting her. I should have acted like I knew nothing about their family.
“Hey, Caitlyn.” Drew’s voice comes from behind her, right as Graham runs in—narrowly squeezing his body between Caitlyn’s and the door frame—and throws his arms around my legs.
“Mom! Drew taught me how to throw a football. Do you think I can play hockeyandfootball? I’m really good at throwing!”
I give him a smile as I push his hair out of his eyes. The kid needs a haircut, but like most hockey players his age, he’s perpetually growing it out.
“Sure, we can talk about that.”
I watch as Caitlyn’s head swings from me, over to Drew, who’s looking at me and Graham like a love-sick fool.Knock it off, I say in my head, wishing I could somehow send that message telepathically. But he just continues staring at me with that devilish grin. If any adult in the room didn’t know we’d just slept together, they probably do now.
