I eye him, not sure I believe that. He’s a handyman, and a skilled woodworker who can put a crib together with his eyes closed. What is he really up to?
He must sense my skepticism, because he continues with, “Rowyn would love to see you. You haven’t been around much.”
There’s something in his eyes—something that resembles concern—and I hate that he recognizes the storm inside me.
But why wouldn’t he? Especially after I spent the summer laying low and I have been keeping to myself more often than not. He’s the guy I confided in all those months ago. I needed to talk to someone, so I told him about Maria and me, and how late one evening back in her kitchen, things heated up between us.
But then, they cooled just as quickly. I never really told him why, and let him believe it was just a quick hook-up, even though he’s smart enough to know I’ve got more going on with me. Too bad I wasn’t smart enough to stop myself from getting involved with a single woman raising two teenagers.
“So yes to dinner?” he asks, breaking my painful trip down memory lane.
I give him a shove. “What do you mean you never see me? I’ve seen you every day for the last two weeks.” The season is just beginning and we’ve been in training camp every day.
“Yeah, but Rowyn hasn’t seen you. Not that she’s missing anything.” He mock shivers. “Not with an ugly face like that.”
“Fuck off.” I shove him and he laughs. “Wait. She’s not trying to set me up, is she? I heard rumors about Jaylynn trying to set up her friends Sloane with Nicklas.”
“That’s a losing bet there,” Jaxon says. “And no, Rowyn doesn’t have the energy for that.”
“How many months along is she?”
“If you ask her, she’ll tell you twelve. But it’s five.”
“Yeah, dinner sounds great. What can I bring?”
“Just your appetite, bud.” I’m about to protest when he holds up a hand. “Tuck, I’ve tasted your food and trust me, no need to bring anything.”
“Hey, I take offense to that.”
“Just like my stomach took offense to that pasta salad you brought to the potluck last summer.”
“Who knew mayonnaise went bad?”
“Everyone, Tuck. Everyone knows mayonnaise goes bad. You need to check the date on things.”
As we both laugh, I spot Elena and Grant. Elena is Maria’s mother and Grant is my buddy Ash’s dad. They have the cutest later-in-life romance. I guess there really is someone for everyone. Maybe just not for me. Or rather, there is someone for me, I just can’t have her.
Elena and Grant walk close, his hand hovering near her back like she might tip over at any second. That’s when it hits me—her skin is ghostly pale, and my body stiffens, spine locking into protective mode.
It’s not just because I’m team captain, trained to watch for risks and anticipate every move of those around me. It’s deeper than that. I notice. I act. I step in. Because that’s who I am. I take responsibility—for my team, for my friends, for the people who exist in my little universe.
And maybe most of all it’s because I’m a nurturer by nature. It’s in my DNA. I can’t help it. I watch, I worry, I want to make things right. Keeping an emotional distance from Maria’s boys goes against everything I am, everything I’ve been built to do.
“Hey,” Grant says. “Jaxon, do you think you could give Lucas and Josh a drive home? Elena’s not feeling great.”
Right on cue, she sneezes, and sags against Grant. My heart pinches tight, because Elena reminds me of my own grandmother, and makes me miss having my family around.
Makes me miss having my own family.
Sure, I have my hockey family, but I don’t have anyone to go home to, anyone to kiss good night, or more importantly kiss good morning.
Grant’s arm slides fully around her shoulders. “Poor thing’s been fighting something all afternoon.”
“I would if I could,” Jaxon says quickly. “I came with Noah and his kids.”
And then they all look at me.
My heart slams into my throat.
