“I’ve always felt really guilty about not wanting kids.”
“Why?” Who would make him feel guilty? That’s crap.
Julian sighs. “A few reasons. The world seems to think that you can only live a fulfilled life if you have kids and a family. I guess a part of me feels like… I don’t know. Like something is wrong with me because I have zero desire to have kids. It makes me feel guilty for some reason.”
“I understand that feeling,” I admit.
He nods subtly against my head. “And then there’s the family line, too. If I don’t have children, I’m literally ending two family lines. Both my parents’ bloodlines end with me. It’s a sick feelingknowing that if I choose to remain childless, I’ll be cutting them both off entirely. It’s a weight I’ve carried for more than a decade now, which was when I first realized all this. I haven’t even brought myself to mention it to them.”
“But… is that true, though? Yes, they’re only children like you, but you said you have a lot of cousins. That means your family line doesn’t actually end.”
“My cousins come from my great-grandparents’ siblings. Both sets of grandparents for both my parents were all only children. I feel like I’m ending so many family lines. The first time I mentioned this to someone at school as a teen, I was told I was selfish by not wanting to bring kids into the world.”
“Wow,” I say, disgusted. “There are nine billion people on this planet. We’re literally suffocating it. How the fuck is it selfish not to want kids?”
Julian huffs. “I don’t know. I’ve stopped talking about it because I hate hearing other people’s opinions, always acting as if I’m doing something despicable by not bringing more life into the world.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, tightening my arms around him. “I’m relieved that you don’t want kids. I’m actually really excited that this big thing is something we agree on.”
My heart skips several times when his arms tighten around me as well. I even feel his fingers dig into my back. “Me too, Arush,” he murmurs. “I don’t think relief covers how I feel. It’s like a massive burden I’ve carried around for ages has been lifted.”
“I think we can have a very happy and fulfilling life, just the two of us,” I say. The end of my sentence sounds a little breathless to my own ears. It feels as though I’m being incredibly presumptuous in saying that.
But Julian hums and presses his lips to mine. For several seconds, I get lost in the feel of his mouth on mine. “Me too. It’skind of remarkable how perfectly you fit into my life. Like your wants and needs and dreams align as if we were made to be a pair.”
Oh my god! “Yes,” I agree. The word comes out a little louder than a whisper. “Yes,” I repeat, my chest filling with warmth and emotion.
Finally. This man is just… mine. The words have been said now, right? That’s finality? It feels like he just sealed our fate, and that’s a future together.
CHAPTER 25
JULIAN
It’sone of those rare mornings in April when the weather is just beautiful. I wouldn’t call it warm, but the sun is out, and it’s supposed to be in the sixties. An absolutely perfect day for a thirteen-mile hike.
There are several private hockey clubs in the country for high school students that aren’t run by the state or attached to a school district. These are alternatives to high school-led hockey and for high schools that don’t have teams. They have their own tiered competitions, ranked by skill of the team, all over the country and into Canada.
It’s a model that aligns with the NHL. There’s the ECHL, then the AHL, and then the NHL. Colleges and universities are the same with their different leagues and shit. This is no different.
A lot of people have the misconception that if a kid is serious about wanting to go pro, this is the kind of hockey they should be playing. There’s the theory that you get what you pay for. We all know teachers could be paid more. They’re worth much more than they’re compensated. The same goes for high school coaches.
The reality is, sure, okay. That might be true as far as training, expectations, and commitment are concerned, but the reality is, it costs a lot of money. Just because a kid is serious about playing doesn’t mean that their parents can afford to sign them up for a private club. So yes,these kidsare definitely showing the dedication and skill needed to become pro athletes, but there are public school kids who have the same dedication and skill and can’t afford to be a part of the club.
Sometime around Christmas, Coach sent an email to the team asking if there were any players interested in taking one of the local private teams on hikes or through some conditioning routines, mini bootcamps, and the like once the season ended. Since I enjoy hiking and haven’t made myself check out the trails, I volunteered to take one of the teams hiking.
These programs are considered mentor programs because they give the kids time to talk to me about hockey, ask me questions and for advice, and just get a feel for how they can improve their personal games in an effort to be more appealing to colleges and agents.
The kids joining me today are a Level 1 team, which is the highest of highs in the Chicago area. Chicago is densely populated enough that this is one of three teams of this caliber. There are the Chicago Storms, the Chicago Shipwrecks—who I’m told are affectionately called the Sinkers—and the Chicago Lakers. Obviously, there needed to be a team with reference to Chicago’s position on Lake Michigan.
I’m meeting up with the Chicago Storms today. There are twenty-one kids on the team. At this age, a lot of teams have an age requirement unless there are special circumstances, like they’re justthatgood. This team is all seventeen- and eighteen-year-old players.
As soon as I open the hatch of my trunk and take a seat to wait for them, they begin pulling into the parking lot. Fivecars all at once, with three to five kids climbing out and coming toward me. I’m counting heads as they approach, and it looks like all twenty-one are here.
Talk about punctuality. I was never on time like this, no matter how hard I tried in high school. I’m receiving big smiles as they approach. Does that mean they all recognize me? Are they fans of the Chicago Breeze?
“Hey, man,” one of the guys in front says, offering me his hand. I get the bro handshake, slap combination. “It’s wild to actually get to spend the day with you.”
I grin. One of the weirdest things to get used to as a pro athlete is just how many people know your name. Having and meetingactual fans. I don’t consider myself a celebrity by any means. I’m a guy with a job, and that job just happens to be playing a sport I love that often gets broadcast on nationwide television.
