“Okay,” Taters says while he starts to pedal again. “But I’m going to tell you right now, the minute another man snatches her up, you’re going to regret everything you just said to me.”
I want to believe he’s wrong, but a small part of me thinks that he might be right.
* * *
“Good game tonight.”Penny’s voice cuts through the dark of the night.
I pause mid-stride to the bathroom. “Jesus, I didn’t know you were awake.”
She rolls to the side and flips on her nightstand light, illuminating her beautiful yet sleepy face. “I was in and out a bit.” With her palm, she rubs her eye. “Coach was smart not giving you too much playing time.”
“Yeah, he’s saving us for the first round. I’m glad we’re in the playoffs, but the wild card blows—”
“Because you have to play the top seed,” she finishes for me. “Yeah, that sucks. But I think you guys have it in you to beat Washington.”
“Thanks. Well, I’m going to get ready for bed and then hang out in the living room to cool off a bit.”
“Want me to join you?”
“No, get your rest. You’re fine.”
I move through the bedroom and bathroom as quietly as I can, and when I’m done getting ready, I retreat to the main living space, where I grab myself a glass of water.
My body is sore.
Everywhere.
Even though I didn’t play too much today, the season is catching up to me, and I can practically feel every last muscle in my body telling me that it’s ready to be done with the abuse it’s been put through.
Happens every year.
My ribs get to the point where sometimes, it hurts to breathe from all the battered blows they’ve taken. My legs feel like noodles, and the only reason I’m able to skate on them is because of the impeccable training staff we have who revitalize me every day. And my brain is mentally exhausted. The hockey season is a long-ass season, not to mention the playoffs on top of that.
My mind is already thinking about the quiet peacefulness of being in Banff, surrounded by trees, and not having to worry about what I eat, conserving energy, and who the hell we’re playing next.
I’ve never been this mentally checked out of the playoffs before, but I think it’s from the emotional journey I’ve been on these last few months. It’s been difficult, to say the least, and I’m ready for it all to be over.
For a moment of peace, where I can take a deep breath and focus on the things that matter—preparing for this baby and how I’m going to handle being a father and a hockey player come next season.
From the kitchen, I go to sit on the couch but stop from the figure standing just outside the hallway.
“Jesus,” I breathe out. “You scared me, Penny.”
“Sorry, I was thirsty.”
I walk up to her and hand her my water. “Here, take mine.”
“Thank you.” She takes a sip before lowering the glass. “What are you going to do out here?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Think. I just don’t want to lie in bed when I know I’m going to toss and turn until I can calm down.”
“Want company?” The way she asks, standing there in her matching pink flannel pajamas, she looks so goddamn cute, it would be hard to turn her away.
“Not if you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you up.”
“You won’t,” she says as she takes my hand in hers and moves me toward the small couch.
I forgot just how small she is up until this moment, when my palm connects with hers, my hand eclipsing hers. She fits . . . perfectly.
