“I already told you. It’s your dad’s hockey team, and then it’ll be your hockey team, and someday it will be our kid’s hockey team. That’s the way it should be, and that’s the way it will be.”
I press my lips together, wanting to continue to argue about it, but knowing it’s fruitless at this point. After a brief standoff, I finally respond, “If you’re interested in starting any type of charity league, you’d be best served to start with Declan’s team to see if what he does and what you want to do, even coincide. Then I’d hit up legal to see what hoops need to be jumped through to make it a lucrative enough venture to warrant all the work it will require.”
“You think it’ll be more work than it’s worth?”
“Not necessarily,” I state, wanting to be honest but not so honest that he gives up the idea without giving it a real shot. “A heart project gets far more leeway than a true business venture. And it’s not like you’re short on startup funds, which is a far better position than most people.”
He sighs, his head falling back on the pile of pillows behind him. “You’re right. If I’m going to do this, I need to get all the information first, plan from there.”
“It’ll take some time, but doing it right will make it better in the long run.”
“I know, I know,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair briskly before looking over at me. “But I have this grand idea and I just wanna do it now, you know.”
I laugh, then smile at his enthusiasm. “Oh, I know. But it’ll come together, you’ll see.”
Nodding, then glances around the room then looks back at me and says, “You should come to bed. It’s getting late.”
I fall back in my chair, a hand resting on my forehead dramatically. “I’m stuck. I need help.”
He levels me with the same look he always gives me when I’m being a brat, but he’s already pushing the comforter back. He walks toward me slowly, doing his best to appear stern and failing miserably as he stops in front of me. “Are you going to make me carry you again?”
“Make you? Is that really a thing?”
He lifts a shoulder and responds, “Sure feels like it lately.”
“Not tonight,” I retort, holding my hand out. “Wouldn’t want you to throw out your back or anything.”
He pulls me up, then holds my hands as I sway slightly. “You okay?”
I nod swallowing the weird lump in my throat before answering, “Yeah, I’m good. Just stood up too fast.”
He squeezes my hands, dropping his head so he’s looking in my eyes. “How much longer you gonna put it off?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His lips twist, his brows raise. “Mmmhmm.”
“You’re so annoying,” I mutter as I brush by him, making a beeline for the bathroom, but he’s right behind me, apparently unwilling to let it go, so I turn back to him. “I’m not ready.”
His lips twitch, his expression amused as he retorts, “Then maybe we should’ve been using protection.”
I glare at him. “You’re not funny.”
“I am kinda funny,” he responds. “If you already took the test, I won’t be mad, Cass.”
“I didn’t.”
“Do you want to do it now?”
“I’m scared,” I confess, my heart now in my throat.
“Of what?” he asks, his voice quiet. I shrug, so he adds, “Of it being negative?” again I shrug, so he continues, “Of it being positive?”
“All of it,” I exclaim, my hands waving in the air frantically. “I’m scared that it won’t have happened but then I’m scared that it may have happened and then if it didn’t happen I’m scared it never will but if it did happen then I’m scared it’s too much too soon.”
“Maybe we should do the test so at least you have less options to be scared of?” he replies, likely thinking he’s being helpful.
“Stop being so goddamn reasonable.”
