Page 102 of Get Me to the Starting Line
Julien chuckles. I wonder why he’s never corrected Levi and tried to get him to say his name, but it’s sweet.
“Bon anniversaire, mon petit loup.” Julien snuggles into Levi.
Don’t break our hearts, I think to myself.
Levi squirms out of Julien’s arms—the little fool. I’d stay all day if he picked me up.No, Leah, not those thoughts.
“Levi, Julien brought you a present,” I say, threading as much excitement into my voice as I can.
When Julien sits down, I don’t miss the slight wince on his face. The Whales went on to win the freaking Stanley Cup finals last night, on home ice. The first time in I don’t know how many years.
He doesn’t know this, but I was there, jersey on. Paige managed to get me some tickets and two lovely people in the back row were more than happy to trade their places for my behind-the-bench seats.
I didn’t want him to see me and potentially lose focus.
Heaven forbid he blame me for a Stanley Cup loss.
He was incredible. I didn’t care about any of the other players or the puck or the rules. My eyes were glued to the goalie the whole game.
Julien made some incredible saves, but I could tell he pushed it a little too hard. No wonder he’s sore. When his grimace lingers, I clench my hands behind my back so I don’t do something stupid like touch him again.
Levi climbs into his lap and starts pulling at the wrapping paper. Inside is a box, which Julien helps him open. Levi ends up tearing it with his strong little hands, making Julien laugh. The low sound reverberates through me. This man.
Inside the box is a soft, grey, plush little wolf.
Theplanerideisexcruciating. We’re one hour into the three-hour flight to Vegas and my stomach has not settled. You’d think I’d be used to the turbulence on plane rides since I’ve spent sixteen years in the NHL, flying twice a week all around Canada and the States, and even overseas to the Olympics. But I’m not.
It’s not as bad as boats, but still, my motion sickness has never gone away. I’ve popped some anti-nausea meds, which helps a bit. As long as I keep my head between my knees, I’ll be fine.
Thank god for first-class seats with extra space.
The air stirs around the empty seat beside me as someone sits down. I don’t have to lift my head to know it’s Leah. Her intoxicating scent of rain and vanilla washes over me, settling my stomach more than the meds did.
Her warm hand rubs circles on my back, and the soothing motion eases the remaining nausea.
I didn’t stick around Leah’s apartment for long after I gave Levi his present, making an excuse of an appointment before the trip. Ididn’t have one, but I couldn’t stay—not with Leah looking at me that way, her big green eyes full of confusion and hope.
These last few months have been rough. I wish I could say I’ve come to some conclusion, some way to get everything I want, but it’s not that simple.
I’m in love with Leah, and I love her son. I’ve lived in Vancouver for six years and besides Montreal, it’s the only place that feels like home, especially this past year. Again, that’s all Leah.
There’s talk of me being traded back to Montreal, which normally wouldn’t be a bad thing since my dad lives there. Even though he’s married, with his track record, it won’t last long.
Guilt lances through me as I think of choosing not to go home. He understands the demands of the job—I have no say in where I go. Even when I was playing in California, I would fly him out for my games and he was fine. But if I choose to retire and stay in Vancouver?
I don’t know how he’d react. He’s never loved anyone like he loved my mom, and she left him. Would he understand if I stayed in Vancouver for Leah and Levi? I wish I knew. I wish I knew if he loved me enough to be happy for me.
And the final question ... am I ready to retire? After my injury I would’ve said yes, it’s fine, I’m done. But then we went on to win the Stanley Cup, and I don’t know if I can give that up yet. It’s been my whole life—I don’t have a backup plan. I’ve never given much thought to retirement.
Will I coach, like Adam? That’s unlikely since I’m not great with people.
I’m a goalie. That’s my singular skill. Thirty-five is getting up there in the hockey world, but in the normal world? It’s still young. I have so much life left, and I don’t know what to do with it.
Images flash through my mind as Leah continues to silently rub my back. Images of buying a house in the city, one with a backyard for Levi and his siblings to run around and play in.
Coming home and making dinner, having it ready when Leah gets home from work. Holding her in my arms every day.
Every night.
