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But until then—I’d never considered the fact I’d ever be a father.
And hearing her suggest us having a family one day—even though she was putting it in a negative light—it had still made me feel things I hadn’t felt before.
Thinking of Lexi’s belly round, and full with our child—it did something to my brain.
I wasn’t sure exactly what—but for the first time in my life, I thought about having kids.
Being a father.
Setting up a house—a home—with Lexi. Having birthday parties, and celebrating anniversaries.
Doing all those things with someone I loved.
“Uh, I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed children,” I told him the truth.
He chuckled to himself and lifted up the bowl of hot liquid. His hands shook slightly, so I grabbed it from him.
“No? You haven’t talked about having kids?” he asked, but there seemed to be something behind his question.
“No,” I held the bowl, but it shook even worse in my grip, “considering the fact she’s filed for divorce, kids haven’t really come up, yet.”
He laughed again and took the bowl back. “When was your last pill, Son? You’re worse off than I am.”
His words stunned and shocked me into silence.
He opened the fridge and set the bowl inside, then he shut the door.
“Huh? You didn’t answer.” He turned to me and waited.
“I was in a major accident last December. It left me with some—issues.” I defended my use of prescription medication.
“Yeah, kid, I know. I watched the whole fuckin’ thing. Scariest shit I’ve seen in a while. Glad everything turned out okay and you walked out of that hospital instead of rolled.”
I nodded. “Yeah, me too. I think it was harder on everyone around me. I didn’t know I was in a coma, after all.”
“Uh, huh, but it left you with a nice parting gift.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter.
I shrugged and frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wes gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m talkin’ about the nice pill addiction your accident left you with.”
“My pain is real, Wes,” I said, not wanting to get into an argument with him. Especially not over this.
“Oh, I know all about pain,” he chuckled heartily, “no need to convince me of that shit. My fuckin’ knee is going to be the death of me. One thing a lifetime of hockey will absolutely do for you? Is leave you in a lot of goddamn pain. For the rest of your life.”
I stared at my father-in-law and carefully considered my words. “I was doing just fine before Rozovsky checked me into the boards—headfirst.”
He nodded, then took a deep breath. “I know you were. I’ve been following you closely. Must’ve stung when your team set you out to pasture and gave you away to an expansion team.”
Okay, now he was pissing me off. “I wouldn’t call it being put out to pasture, no.”
Wes shrugged. “Call it what you will—but they gave you away. Instead of keeping you. A player in his thirties lives on borrowed time. That’s just how it is, Son.”
He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. “Your team’s doin’ shit without you. When are you slatted to start playing again?”
I looked him right in the eyes. “They’re threatening to send me down.”
His eyebrows raised and he blinked. “Back to the minors?”
