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Unable to hold back, I laugh at his blunt statement. “Thanks, Mitch.”
One by one, my teammates shuffle out of the room to get home to their ladies. But not without glancing back at me over their shoulders, concern lining their features.
Bruce stays seated on the bench, where he removed all of his goalie gear for Jeff, the equipment manager, to clean. He’s showered and changed but hasn’t said a word. Which is very unlike him.
Bruce’s icy blue gaze makes me feel like I’m frozen in place. Waiting to see what he’s gonna say. His shaggy, blond hair hangs limp, damp against his scruffy face. “Listen, Rem. I’m happy for you, I am. I think we could all tell you were in love with that girl. But this is really fast.”
I open my mouth to defend our situation, but he holds a hand up to stop me. “I’ll stand behind you, no matter what. But if you need someone to talk to…or open up to, or whatever. I’m here, okay?” He quirks a brow and I nod my head.
“Yeah, thanks, man.”
“And I really hope her procedure goes well.” He pauses. “Are you scared?”
My shoulders slump. I don’t think I knew how much I needed someone to ask me that question. His asking makes me feel normal for being scared, like it’s to be expected to feel this way. “Yes. It scares the hell out of me to think about her heart stopping.”
Bruce stands and gives me a big hug. He’s not the person I want to hug right now, but I don’t mind it just this once and hug him back quickly before stepping away from him.
We both grab our duffle bags and head for the exit, walking out to our vehicles together.
Bruce unlocks his old Chevy pickup. And by unlock, I mean he has to put the key in the keyhole because his pickup is that old. “I mean it, Cap’n. You call, and I’ll be there. I don’t know what all is going on here.” He uses one hand to draw a circle in the air in my vicinity. “But there’s something sketchy.”
I roll my eyes and press the remote start on my key fob and get in before Bruce can hound me anymore.
Maybe my teammates know me a little better than I thought they did. Maybe I should tell them why I am the way I am. Why I can be a little…different.
With a sigh, I grab the spare set of glasses I keep in my vehicle and slide them on, settling in for the drive home. The commute feels longer than usual, possibly because I’m excited to get home to Nella and Amber, to see how they’re settling in. Now I know why the guys always have summer weddings and don’t get married in the middle of the season. I can’t take time off to be with them and spend time making Amber feel at home. I can take off some time next week for her procedure, now that Amber is my wife. But then I’m back to practicing and traveling as per usual. It’s part of my contract. The D.C. Eagles own me. Not something I’ve ever considered a bad thing. But now it feels a little stifling.
When I finally pull into my driveway, my body relaxes. I slide out of my Land Rover, and the tension in my shoulders disappears, and when I open the garage door and enter through the laundry room of my house, it feels like a home for the first time.
Music is playing, something by Miley Cyrus I think, Amber is singing, and Nella coos like she wants to sing too.
I step lightly into the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt whatever is going on in there. Amber is in one of those nursing nightgowns she was wearing last time she visited, but she’s thrown an oversized Eagles sweatshirt on the top of it. Her red, and pink, hair is down—and wild. She’s barefoot even though it’s winter, but I have heated floors, so it doesn’t really matter.
She’s using a whisk as a microphone and singing to Nella the lyrics for Wrecking Ball, as the song plays from her phone where it rests on the infinity countertop. It looks like she’s in the middle of making breakfast, Nella sits happily in her bouncy seat we packed into the truck with most of their other belongings.
“Well, good morning,” I say, announcing myself from where I’m leaning against the kitchen archway.
Amber gasps, jumping a little. The whisk drops from her hand, and she clutches her chest. “Ford! You scared me to death!”
I rush toward her, reaching out and putting my hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay? Is it your heart?”
She bats my hands away—now she’s laughing. “Would you stop fussing over me? I’m not going to have a heart attack.” Amber bends at the waist and picks up the whisk. “You’re a giant man, and I just didn’t know you were home is all.”
I inhale deeply, feeling suddenly out of breath myself. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
“You want biscuits?”
“Really? With gravy?”
“What kind of wife would I be if I made biscuits without gravy?” she asks, shaking the whisk at me with one hand and resting her other hand on her hip.
I laugh. “Are you going to take my shoes off and massage my feet too?”
Her pert, freckled nose scrunches up adorably. “Ugh. No. I’ve seen your feet. I’m pretty sure they get worse every time you lace up those skates.”
“Hockey players really do have the nastiest feet,” I agree. Especially Colby.
Amber smirks, then turns and continues her wifely endeavors. I turn to Nella and say hello. She smiles at me whenever I talk to her, and there’s just something about it that makes me want to keep talking so she’ll keep smiling.
