Page 45 of Stealing Blinds

I didn’t expect him to answer beyond a simple yes or no. He doesn’t seem like the type to share anything personal, so I tuck away my follow-up questions and accept that for the gift it is.

“I could tell Axel was that kind of man when I met him,” is all I offer before turning it back to me. “I was a gymnast. On the path for the Olympics. I went by SJ Palmer back then. At nineteen and twenty-one, I was the NCAA Floor Exercise Champion, and I was consistently All-American, so I had a promising career ahead of me.”

He exhales, picks up the chairs, and kicks his chin toward the ocean. “That’s incredible. Did you always want to be an Olympian?”

As we walk down to the tide line, I begin with a heartwarming snippet. “Actually, when I was young, I wanted to be a Harlem Globetrotter, but my father steered me toward gymnastics. We’ll never know if that was the right call,” I tease. “Anything that allowed me to flip was going to be a win.”

“Tough choice. You’re only a few inches shy of being a basketball star.” He laughs, but when we take our low-to-the-ground seats, he redirects me. “But you didn’t go to the Olympics?”

“No,” I sigh, letting the grit of the sand, the lull of the sea, and the bright, sunny skies lend a backdrop to the retelling of the darkest years of my life. “I put it off, hoping my father would be released in time to see me. It felt like it would be a new start for our family. And he’d poured so much of himself into getting me proper training.”

“Your father was supposed to get out early?” he probes once we’re burrowing our toes into the wet sand.

“It hadn’t been determined yet, but like everyone else, the guards and warden loved him. He was eligible for parole right around my college graduation, which was an Olympic year, so I decided I’d pursue it then. There were a lot of skeptics who didn’t believe I could be as competitive in my twenties. Some still considered that ancient for gymnasts then. I was consistent and strong though, so I wasn’t worried. But then … he was killed, and I … I didn’t want to be an Olympian. I just wanted to be his daughter.” Those last few words are barely a whisper, skittering into the roar of the wind, so I center my breathing and concentrate on the families playing nearby.

“People kept telling me I was wasting my talent by quitting, so I put it to use,” I finally manage. “I pulled a bunch of jobs. Made a lot of money and a name for myself. I was good at that too. It was in my genes.

“Then I ran into Danny. We’d had a fling in college, but we were both too focused on goals back then. I guess that was still true for him to a degree since he’d gone pro. Anyway, we dated for a year and a half, and he proposed. By then, he knew who my parents were, but not that I was in the same line of work. I was also coaching gymnastics at the time. I decided I wanted out of the heist game. And since I was Heath’s daughter and I was happy, the people I was involved with wished me well.”

He jumps up, runs back to the blanket, gets two bottles of water from the bag, and returns, handing one to me. My dry mouth rejoices, and my spirit calms. Cash is more of a caretaker than I would’ve imagined him to be.

Twisting the cap back on, I set the bottle in the sand, between my feet. “Six months later, I got pregnant. Danny was upset, but I understood it felt like a lot. I figured, eventually, he’d realize while the timing was off, this was what we wanted. And I was elated enough for both of us. For four months. Then I miscarried.”

I haven’t spoken those words in such a long time that I feel them chafing my throat, but I gulp the pain down and go on. “It devastated me—so much grief for this invisible loss of a baby I never met—which was hard for some people to grasp. I know it probably doesn’t make much sense, but it felt like reliving my father’s death too. Danny was pissed because I was sad all the time, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Cash says, and whether that’s just something any listener would interject or not, it’s appreciated.

“We grew apart. He was less available than ever when he was on the road. I suspected he was cheating on me. When I confronted him, he insisted he wasn’t, but that he needed to be allowed to grieve, too, and it was too hard to be around me. I felt more lost after that.” My attention drifts back to the turquoise water, the boats zipping by in the distance, and the way things take on a distorted speed and shape when you’re removed.

“Then, one night, when he was in Miami, he called me, and I told him I hadn’t been out of bed for three days, that I was really struggling. I just wanted to know I was still a priority.” I glance at him, certain he’s wondering if his question warranted all these details. “I promise there’s a point to all this.”

He nudges my sand-covered foot with his. “If the only point was that you wanted to tell me what happened, I’d still be invested.”

I want to believe that, but the rest of my explanation is why I have no idea if he’s genuine or simply being who I need him to be right now for his own agenda. I don’t trust my own instincts anymore.

“Danny claimed he’d been worried, so he stopped by my sister’s house to ask her how to help me. Flora had been dealing with her own shit. She’s diabetic, and she’s always had a lot of complications from it. She’d been sick, and she went through a bad breakup. I think her ex actually moved to New Orleans.”

I tear off the water bottle cap and take another swig, regrouping. “Anyway, there Danny was, telling her she was beautiful and he felt whole with her. And I don’t know. She stopped in the middle of whatever they were doing and called me, crying. I believe she got swept up. He was charming that way, and he knew what to say. He knew she was afraid she’d die, that she was lonely, that she felt unattractive, and he used it.”

“That’s … big of you.” He clenches the water bottle so tightly that it crackles with his unspoken judgment.

Maybe I should let this story paint me in a bad light, making me far more undesirable than my granny pajamas could, but I’d rather be seen as unattractive than weak. “I’m not a pushover.”

He sighs. “You have a bad habit of drawing the wrong conclusions from things I say.”

“Maybe I do.” A rueful chuckle flies out of me as I set my water down. “There’s a logical part of me that understands Flora was manipulated. She’s always been my best friend. A lifetime of selfless decisions upended by one. And she did stop and have the courage to call me and tell the truth. So, I’ve tried. I want to forgive her. I miss her so much. But, God, I still kind of hate her.”

This time, he doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. We simply watch the shimmering sea, and the foaming waves, and the kids throwing a Frisbee recklessly close to us.

He finally scoops me out of my chair, tosses both of our sunglasses on the blanket, and carries me into the ocean, which feels like a more-than-friends move, until he sets me down in waist-high water and gets back to the root of his investigation. “And that’s what led to the Stanley Cup being stolen?”

I throw out my hands, spraying us both with soaring droplets. “Those are the events that preceded it. Well, that and me hunting Danny down, only to find him in bed with yet another woman. The night his team won, she announced on social media that they were engaged and had been seeing each other for months—since the week I’d found out I was pregnant. So, all his teammates knew he was cheating. Some of their wives probably knew too. Such a shame his monumental accomplishment was tainted.”

Despite the lack of respect for me, I do feel bad for the rest of his team and all the teams that won before them and were featured on that Cup. Another one was made in its place though, and I’m sure the original will turn up someday. If I’m feeling generous.

“A shame.” Cash smirks, splashing some water on his chest, right over his 3D fleur-de-lis tattoo that blends with his gambling collage. “And the mess you’re caught up in now has something to do with hockey?”

“Not exactly.” I dip down, letting the next subtle wave wash over my neck. “A guy I worked for after I graduated college—the one who knew my dad and graciously let me walk away, even though I had other jobs lined up—made me promise that if I ever entered the scene again, I’d only do it for him.”