“It’s crazy. I don’t feel ready, you know?”
“Does anyone?”
“True.”
“You’re gonna be a fantastic dad.”
His eyes shine. “Thanks, man.”
As I take my seat, I get a sense of what I’m missing. After I finished my time as a hockey player and graduated, I only needed myself. Maybe I’m ready for something more.
I don’t feel like I’m here displaced from my family. I’m right where I feel at home. I fit in here. It’s not hard to picture staying in Heston Lake. I could build a life that makes me happy, one where I don’t feel like I need to stay on the move to keep ahead of my own doubts.
This town knew me as a guy that was a little too lax and got into trouble too often. I have the chance to overwrite that if I continue to change into a dependable guy, rather than move before anyone realizes I don’t know what I’m doing and haven’t made an effort to figure anything out after college.
Eve snags my focus when she tries one of her mom’s dishes and mumbles that I have to try it. I should take a page from her book. She’s starting her business and it gives me the courage to pursue my passion with the same conviction.
Before now, I thought I was playing it safe. I think I was afraid I’d fail and go back to my old ways. Maybe it’s the same with the impression I’ve always gotten from my old teammates, and the guys I coach now. It’s not that they have things more together than I do because they’re not secretly struggling. They’re the ones who have the guts to believe in themselves, win or lose.
I take hold of that drive, not only motivated for myself but to show the people in my life who matter to me what I’m truly capable of when I start to believe I’m good enough.
Later, after another round of presents and dessert, David dozes in an armchair by the fireplace with the football game muted on the TV. Mrs. Lombard isn’t far off from napping herself, lounging on the sofa with the new book Eve gifted to her. Benson leads me and the girls down to the finished basement.
It’s been our hangout spot for years. Some of our old posters still plaster the walls by the air hockey table, though it looks like the furniture we trash picked in middle school has been replaced and there’s a sweet mounted flatscreen.
“Why am I—?” Eve stares at the bundle of ribbons she collected from the wrappings that she carried with her. “I didn’t mean to bring this down here.”
“Are you sure you’re turning twenty-five and not ninety-five with that spotty memory of yours?” Benson teases.
“Shut up,” she says with a sigh. “I picked it up because I didn’t want to forget it, but got sidetracked. I meant to put it by the door so I’d take it for my craft supplies when I went to bed. Don’t let me leave this down here because once it’s out of sight, poof—gone.”
She shakes the ribbons to underline her point. I cover her hand with mine, ignoring the thrill contorting my stomach.
“I’ll remind you.”
“Thanks.” She looks past me at her brother. “See, that’s called being helpful and supportive. Cole’s a team player.”
He waves her off while searching for something to put on in the background. The girls pull blankets from the basket in the corner and sit on the couch.
“What else is going on this week? Feel like hitting the slopes with me?” I ask.
“I have to get back to work tomorrow. You know how it is. Eve’s party is coming up this weekend, though. You should come.” Benson gets her attention. “Cole’s invited, right? To your birthday party.”
Her giggling with Jess trails off and her gaze flicks to me in surprise. “Sure.” She lifts a brow playfully. “It’s not one of my birthday parties until you crash it.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up. When we were kids, I’d always be Benny’s guest to her parties at the skating rink or when her parents allowed each of them to bring a friend on a ski trip her family took to Vermont to celebrate her birthday. It was a given that if he was going to be there, so would I.
“Duh, free junk food and your friends in high school were sorta cute,” Benson says.
Eve rolls her eyes while Jess snorts and pinches his arm. He grins, murmuring an apology with his hand resting over her stomach.
“Don’t be mad, baby cakes. It was all in the past before I knew you existed. You’re the only one for me.”
She groans. “I hate it when you call me that.”
“No you don’t,” he teases. “Not when I?—”
She covers his mouth before he can finish his sentence. His brows bounce suggestively.
