“I know, baby, I know.” I feel powerless right now. And angry.
Owen’s grandparents are lucky that we’re so far away at the moment, because I’d be sorely tempted to drive over there and…what, exactly? Make things worse for Justin by threatening them? MaybeI’mlucky that we’re so far away.
“Where’s Owen?” Justin demands, sitting up straighter, frantically searching the room with his eyes. “God, I just had a breakdown and I didn’t even think about him. Maybe they’re right to—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” I frown. “You’re spiraling and I get it, but you are an amazing dad, Justin.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffs, then gestures towards the bag containing his Little supplies. “Such a good dad that I regress to a freaking toddler instead of spending time with my kid.”
“You indulge in kink and have date nights. Lots of parents do.”
Shaking his head despondently, Justin waves towards the door. “Can you please just go get him? I just…I need to be with him right now.”
That I can understand completely. I wouldn’t be surprised if the threat of having Owen taken away has Justin clinging to the kid more than ever. I have the urge to do the same to reassure myself that nobody is taking him away.
Retrieving Owen from down the hall, he babbles happily at me about the card game the guys were playing with him and a fierce sense of protectiveness wells up inside of me.
There’s no way Justin’s former in-laws are taking this sweet, well-adjusted,happykid from us.
No fucking way.
***
Life becomes a whirlwind of mounting stress after that. Once we get back to Phoenix, my parents help Justin get in touch with a lawyer friend of theirs who agrees to help us pro bono. Because I’m not legally anything to Owen, I’m more of a hindrance than a help, and I’m kind of sidelined for any of the legal discussions and negotiations. In fact, Harbir, the lawyer, suggests that I just focus on keeping my grades up because that will look best for my involvement or something.
So, that’s what I do. Between hockey and studying, and Justin distracted with the legal stuff and his job, we barely get to see each other outside of the times I tail him at work. And, even then, he’s not the sweet, playful guy I have been falling in love with. He’s stressed, drawn, and exhausted. He desperately needs Little time,and I desperately need to step back into being his Daddy, but we just don’t get the opportunity.
Away games suck even more now, because Justin outright refuses to travel, not wanting to let Owen out of his sight more than necessary, and his enthusiasm for watching our games on TV has faded away, taking a backseat to his worries over his custody battle. We still text, and he still sends sweet supportive messages, but he’s distracted, and I can’t even blame him. I’m distracted by it all as well.
The hockey season is well and truly heating up, but my head isn’t in the game. I feel like I’m letting down my teammates, but everything happening in my life —and in Justin’s life— is putting things into a different perspective for me.
The guys who want to make it to the NHL are completely focused on that, but hockey isn’t as important to me as my Boy and his son. However, I need hockey to keep my scholarship, and I need my scholarship to graduate, and Justin needs me to graduate so I look better on paper…so hockey should be important to me.
God, it’s all such a mess.
“Get your head out of your ass, Nagy!” Coach yells as I lose the puck to an opposing player during our game in Atlanta.
I grit my teeth and nod, speeding after the puck.
My head feels foggy, and I remind myself yet again that I need to do well in this for Justin’s sake. Not only for my scholarship, but also for his job. If Coach thinks my distraction is because of him —because of our relationship— then that could cause even more problems for Justin in the long run. Problems he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with right now. Problems that might negatively impact his fight for custody.
The more I focus on that, though, the dizzier I feel. My arms and legs feel leaden, and for the first time in my entire life, I feel shaky on my skates.
“Gabe, you good?” Mason asks as he passes me, and I try to blink away the weird feeling in my head so I can focus on the game.
He snags the puck as it slaps off our goalie’s stick, and I glide around the back of our goal, leaning forward to race after my linemates on their way back towards the opposing net. The movement makes my head feel like my brain is swimming, and black spots dance in my vision.
Dimly, I realize I skipped both breakfast and my pre-game protein snack. And last night’s meal was kind of light, too. With everything going on, I haven’t been hungry, and staying lean keeps me faster on my skates, so I’ve never really been one to eat a lot anyway…but I might have pushed my limits on energy consumption versus expenditure just a bit too far today.
Trying to right myself and slow down is a mistake, making the lightness in my head even more overwhelming. Then the black spots turn to complete darkness and I don’t even feel it when I hit the boards or crumple to the ice, the sounds of the arena disappearing into nothingness as well.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thegameisonthe TV too late for Owen to watch with me, so I’m curled up on the couch alone. I have my phone on the arm of the couch, but Gabe stopped texting over an hour ago. He’s not supposed to have his phone turned on in the locker room or during games. His last text was a series of kissy faces and hockey sticks.
I’m glued to the TV, trying to catch every glance of my Daddy that I can. They’ve reached the pinnacle of the season now, the part which dictates whether they’ll make it to the playoffs or end their season early, which means that they’re traveling more than ever and I’m staying busy with treating “bumps and scrapes” (the guys call them that, I call them bruises and sprains) during their practices.
I know that I haven’t been in the scene long, just a few months, but I already miss it when I have to go a week or so without Daddy with me. We try to make it work, but he’s been more and more focused as the weeks go on, so even our phone calls are sparse.
