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A minute later my little guy is flying through the front door and into my arms. He’s all smiles and gushy breathless chatter about his night with his dad. I get another tight squeeze and it feels like I can breathe again.
When I look up to the doorway where Jeremy’s standing like he’s not quite sure he should come in, I realize that for all the things I’ve thought and hoped and wished about this man… the one I feel the most deeply is gratitude for giving me this boy.
Which is why I tell him, “You should probably run. Julia’s here.”
* * *
Rux
“Hey, man, come on in,”Greg Baxter says, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm as I step off the elevator into his living room.
He’s got a sweet pad, benefits of having gone to school with Jack Hastings, the guy who owns the building. I’d give my left nut to live in a place like this—okay maybe the right nut, no, the left. I give the sac a lift.Screw this place, you boys are keepers.
He’s currently pedaling like a beast, going nowhere on the stationary bike recently moved into his living room. If it were me, I’d have the thing facing the picture window overlooking the river and city beyond, but for as good as Greg and I get on, we’re cut from a different cloth. He’s got the thing aimed at his TV, where he’s watching his wife’s weekly show.
“Should have told me you were going for a ride, I’da brought my bike too.” I can just see the reporters camped outside waiting for a bite on Slayers captain, Greg Baxter, watching me tote some giant-ass stationary bike in through the lobby.
Be better than the nothing they’ve got to report on his status now.
Greg flips me off, laughing as his legs come to a stop and he takes a swig from the water bottle in the holder.
It’s good to see the guy smiling. With the end of my career staring me in the face, not sure I could.
“How’s the shoulder?”
“About where it’s supposed to be according to the docs.”
That’s good news, I guess. It might be better if the shoulder was the only reason Greg wasn’t on the ice. But while it’s what the team’s been sharing with the media, the bigger issue is this guy’s head. After a concussion that took him out for a good chunk of last season, the blow that put him into the boards and fucked up his shoulder also fucked up his head again. It’s nothing like that first concussion, but the fact that he’s having problems at all has everyone questioning whether he’ll be back.
But I’m guessing that’s not something he wants to get into today when he starts asking about last night’s game.
“Feel like it’s coming together better with Vassar and O’Brian?”
I shrug, not really wanting to admit that it’s not—probably the same way he’s not ready to admit what’s going on with his career. Or maybe it’s not the same, since it would be hard as hell to look the guy I’ve been paired up with for the majority of my career in the eye and tell him I was rocking it without him.
And despite that miracle last night, I’m not.
Not with Vassar and O’Brian, and not with any of the other matchups Coach has been trying out either.
“Hey, it’ll happen, man.”
It would if he came back, but Baxter isn’t just the team captain and my partner on the ice. He’s my friend. And keeping him safe is more important than anything that happens in a game.
He takes another drink. Then, “How are the guys?”
“They’d be better with their captain back.”
He shakes his head, pointing the nozzle end of the bottle at me. “They’ve got their captain. Forget what your sweater says. The only reason it’s not official yet is because—”
“Because you’re their captain,” I cut him off. “And you will be until there’s an official announcement that you’re out. And we’re not there yet, right?”
He nods and even though thatyetis looming large between us, the tension in my chest starts to unwind some. I know I’m in line for the capital C, but truth? I’m not sure I’m cut out for the job like Greg is. I’m the bomb when it comes to backing him up. So assistant captain, hell yeah. But captain isn’t a patch I’ve ever coveted. I care about the team too much to risk letting them down.
“All that bullshit aside, you oughta come out with the guys. They miss you.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He turns back to the big screen and takes another long swallow.
I head to his kitchen, shove my face into the fridge to see what kind of goodies he and Julia have stocked in there. I got a guy who comes and fills my fridge too, but it’s never as exciting as what’s in somebody else’s.
