Page 85 of Center Ice
“Everyone at my school knows who you are,” Graham insists, and it’s the first time he’s mentioned this to me. It makes me wonder what he’s told his classmates—not that he knows anything particularly newsworthy to tell them. But he will soon, and one of the things that’s worried me most about telling him is trying to figure out how he’ll process this, and what his life and our life will be like when he finds out this hockey player he looks up to is actually his dad.
“That’s what happens when you play a sport professionally. There’re good things and bad things about it,” Drew tells him.
Graham looks like he might ask a question, but then nods solemnly, glancing back at the plastic ducks lined up on the dashboard. “Did you know that ducks can communicate with each other before they’re even hatched?”
I glance at Drew, who’s focused on the road but whose cheeks are definitely turned up in a smile now. “I didn’t. Who do they communicate with?”
“The baby ducks in the other eggs. They can all talk to each other and that’s how they know when to hatch, and then they all hatch at the same time.”
“For real?” Drew asks.
“Yeah. I saw it in a video about ducks.”
“He’s a little obsessed with birds,” I tell Drew as he comes to a stop at a stoplight.
“Do you want one of these ducks?” he asks, nodding toward the row of plastic ducks.
“Yes!”
“Which one?”
“Ummmm….” Graham pauses as his eyes move across the row. “Could I have the police officer duck?”
“Sure,” Drew says, reaching over and plucking it out of the row, then reaching behind him to hand it to Graham. “But only if you tell me more about ducks.”
I groan internally as I press my head back into the headrest and close my eyes. He has no idea the floodgates he just opened.
“Well, because of where their eyes are, on the side of their heads, they can see in almost a full circle around them…”
“Stop fucking pinching me,” I hiss at Drew. “At this rate, my ass is going to be covered in bruises.”
“Good.” The sight of him with those aviator sunglasses, a backward Rebels hat holding his wavy hair back, and a sexy half-smile dawning on his face, does funny things to my chest. Being with Drew feels like letting my heart grow in ways I didn’t know were possible, especially when I watch him lift our son onto his shoulders so he can reach apples high up in the tree, like he was doing just a minute ago.
“Why in the world is that good?”
“It’ll give you a reason to think of me while I’m gone.”
I hate that he leaves tomorrow for a seven-day West Coast road trip. “I won’t need any more reasons to think of you, trust me.”
His eyes flick over to Graham, who’s running ahead on the path to the next orchard with a different type of apple than theone we’ve been picking. Drew’s hand presses into my lower back as he pulls me into his side and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Also, good. And just to make sure you have lots of reasons to think of me while I’m away, I’m sending you a little care package.”
He releases me, then calls to Graham to slow down and wait for us at the picnic table that’s just come into view. Beyond it, a valley of trees interspersed with fields and houses, spreads out before us.
I want to ask him about that care package, but I get the sense that he’s asking Graham to stop for a reason. “Are you going to tell him now?”
“Yeah, if you’re okay with that.”
“I’m nervous about how he’s going to take this,” I say, hating the way my stomach feels like an open pit.
“Me too. But he needs to know, and not telling him because it makesusuncomfortable isn’t fair.”
We’re quickly approaching Graham where he’s standing on the seat of the picnic table, taking in the view. “He’s going to have so many questions about why I didn’t tell him who his dad was if I knew all along.”
“Maybe,” Drew says. “Or maybe he’ll just accept it. He’s only five. He’s not going to think about it the same way we are.”
“True, but he’ll have questions, eventually.”
“And when he does, we can answer him.”
