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“Not right now. I will catch up with the team later.”
“As long as I’m not holding you up.”
“Not at all.” I chuckle as I wrap my arms around her and roll us over so I’m laying on top of her. “I’m quite happy to be held up here for as long as necessary.”
“You’re a bad influence.”
I nuzzle into her neck as she opens her legs wider and from the position I’m in, so I practically slide right in. “I can only hope.”
She swats me again.
“Let me give you one of my good mornings, then I’ll order some food and make some coffee.”
“Sounds perfect,” she says as I line myself up and push into her, all the way to the hilt.
I hold her hips as we both stay in place for a few moments.
I wish I could stay here forever. Inside her. Where I feel at home, where nothing could ever reach us.
It crosses my mind that things seem to be going perfectly right now, and I try to push down the feeling that something is just around the corner. Maybe it’s just my own insecurities.
She said she loved me, and I don’t believe she ever stopped loving me. I just don’t want to be picking up the pieces if this went south again.
Or, maybe inside I know something is coming that I have no control over.
Something to knock me over, like I’ve never been knocked before.
* * *
After morning sex, pancakes, and lots of coffee, we decide we might need to leave the apartment. I have to drop Emmerson home so she can spend some time with Maddison on her last day, and later go see her dad at the hospital.
After some downtime it’s back into training, so that means it’s time to get my head back in the Stanley Cup mode.
Coach has called a team meeting first thing and sends us all a group message that we better be focused moving into the week. We have games one and two home this week, and we will head to Vegas on Friday for game three and then game four on Sunday.
That’s the game plan.
I want to catch up with mom as soon as I can before then. She has her appointment today, so I’m going to try my best to leave the stadium and meet up with her at the hospital to offer some moral support.
I’ve thought a lot about what Emmerson said, and though it’s only been a few days, I can’t stay mad at my mom forever. And if she can forgive her, then I should be able to.
What’s done is done. As much as I wish we could change it, it’s impossible.
I still get the feeling something is lurking, and I can’t pinpoint it.
I don’t know which area of my life it’s going to come from, but I feel something brewing and I don’t like it.
Hours later, after having such a great time with Em, I get a call from my dad, and my stomach sinks.
Right away, he sounds worried, and that’s not a good thing. My dad is always cool, calm, and collected no matter what is going on.
“Dad, what’s up?”
He’s silent on the other end of the line and my heart stutters.
“Dad?”
“It’s your Mom,” he says finally. And it’s the last thing I ever expected him to say.
