“Would you tell me if I asked?” One thing I can say for sure about Hannah, she doesn’t pry. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to share.
“I’ll tell you one if you tell me one of yours.”
“Easy. Training at Premier. I met Kinsley and I’m working with Coach Rodier.”
“And you met me. Actually, that was life-altering for me too. I might need to add another tally.”
She laughs but it’s not totally off base.
“Tell me one of yours.”
“The day I turned eighteen. It’s the first tally mark.”
We’re quiet. I’m temporarily lost in memories of that day. I’d gone to get a tattoo—one of many ways I planned to celebrate being an adult and being free from anyone else telling me what to do. My parents weren’t all that strict, seeing as they weren’t around, but they had expectations and I rarely met them.
“I went in without a plan other than I wanted to mark the occasion I was done with my parents. I thought I’d walk in, and inspiration would hit or something, I guess. Eventually I picked out some intricate line work thing that looked cool but didn’t really mean anything to me. I didn’t even know I cared about that, truthfully. The artist only got one line done before he was interrupted by another artist needing something. I can’t really remember. I think I was so lost in my head, already regretting it, and wondering how much it was going to cost to remove in a year or two. I realized I didn’t know what I wanted in that moment or out of life but that I wasn’t going to settle for less than that. So I left.”
Her hands have stopped but they’re still on me. I don’t dare look at her. Instead, I clear my throat. “So that’s the story.”
“Why didn’t you get it removed?”
“I guess I liked the reminder. And it did mark the occasion, just not the way I had planned. And eventually I got the urge to get another. I still had no idea what I wanted so I continued with the tally marks. I kind of like it now. Hopefully someday I’ll have dozens of them.”
She hums her agreement.
“Do you ever think about reconnecting with them?” she asks, and I know she means my parents.
“Nah. We don’t have anything to say to each other. They were as happy as I was when I left. I think my being around made them feel worse about themselves. I was bad at school and that embarrassed them. I wasn’t interested in fancy dinner parties or learning the family business, which they hated. I was good at sports but not the sports they cared about. If I’d been an all-star quarterback or a standout baseball player, maybe they would have come to a game, but hockey was beneath them.”
“That’s harsh,” she says.
I shrug.
“Still, it must be hard, knowing they’re around but not having a relationship with them.”
“I’m better off,” I say honestly. “Maybe they are too.”
“They’re missing out. I can’t say for sure about you, but I’m guessing not. You don’t seem like the kind of guy to write someone off without a good reason.”
I hope she’s right, but sometimes I don’t know.
“Why’d you come tonight?” I ask without opening my eyes. There have been a lot of nights with her that I felt like adding to the tattoo, but no more than when I saw her cheering for me.
There’s a slight pause and then she picks up massaging my muscles again as she speaks. “I’d love to take all the credit, but it was Kinsley’s idea.”
“Remind me to thank her.”
“Trust me, she got thanks enough by telling everyone around us that I was your wife.”
My lips curve up. “I would have loved to have seen your face.”
She lets out another soft hum. “It wasn’t such a bad night to be Mrs. Travis Bennett.”
“I just got goosebumps. Say it again.”
“Mrs. Travis Bennett.” This time the words are hushed and sultry. She’s totally messing with me, but I don’t give a fuck.
23
