This is Aubrey, the sweet little nugget I used to tote around on my hip at the rink. Her mother always tried to pawn her off on the neighbors, so I started setting regular playdates to keep herwith us instead. When I left Silas, I left her, too. Video calls are a poor substitute for sisterhood, and even those have been few and far between.
Emotions threaten to pull me under, the desire to lash out at Silas for not telling me strong, but it’s my own fault for not knowing. For not being here.
“How are you handling it? With hockey, I mean.”
He laughs, the sound short and humorless, before leaning his head against the back of the couch. “It’s a miracle DFCS hasn’t shown up. I mean, we’re homeschooling or virtual schooling, or whatever you want to call it. I think she’s adjusting well, overall.”
“And you?”
His silence says more than words ever could.
“Are you handling it okay, Si?” I ask softly when he doesn’t look at me. The slow shake of his head cracks something in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have—”
He looks at me now, and that look says everything. He already knew. I’d have come the second he called. I’d have dropped everything, job be damned.
But the day I walked out, I told him I didn’t want kids.
“Stop trying to protect me, damn it,” I whisper as I dab at the corner of my eye. Stupid feelings getting hurt over something that’s my own fault.
“She’d love to see you while you’re in town.”
Suddenly, the biggest room in this house is too small. Silas’s foot is still in my lap. I’m still tracing random designs along his calf. I stand abruptly, nearly collapsing back down as my ankle protests. “I’ll, um, be back out before dinner.”
“Kates.”
Using the wall to limp down the hall instead of spending another second in that room is not my smartest move. None of them are, apparently.
Heavier footsteps follow.
“Please don’t walk away, Katibug.”
“Not fair,” I whimper as he closes me in.
I always feel small when I’m with Silas, but never in a bad way. More like I’m protected. Like right now, as his large, calloused hands cup my cheeks, the pad of his thumb brushing away a tear.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Can I please go have an unreasonable tantrum by myself?”
“No can do,” he whispers before pulling me into his chest like he did in the store earlier.
Instead of arguing, I let myself give in. Resting my forehead against his chest as his arms hold me tight feels too natural for two people who aren’t together.
“I’d rather you yell at me than take it out on your poor, innocent pillows,” he says as his fingers trace up and down my spine. The melty-brain feeling kicks in about the time those same fingers slip into my hair, removing the band and unraveling my braid before massaging my scalp.
Eyes still closed, I laugh as an image flashes through my mind.
“What goofy thought is in there?” he asks against my temple.
“NHL Network would get a kick out of this. Star center caught embracing ex-fiancée while both sport ice packs on lower extremities.”
He chuckles and shrugs his massive shoulders. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
I giggle, fully expecting to find his usual grin. Instead, the sincerity in his gaze knocks the breath from my lungs. He’s serious?
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I manage to say.
When Mom’s voice carries from the kitchen, he sighs. “Guess we should return to the gallows.”
