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“I’m ready, Mr. Tripp.” Rose pokes her head into the office right before I can spiral into unfamiliar emotional territory. Good timing.
Uncle Callahan stands when I do, stepping around the desk to give me a hug. I know we did this at my parent’s party, but it still feels weird. Not bad, just different. I don’t hate it though, so I return the embrace.
“I’ll uh… I’ll call you. About dinner?”
“Please do.”
He escorts us out and helps us get Rose’s bags into the car. There are only a few since it seems my parents kept her on a pretty tight leash the last few years, but if the smile on her face is any indication, she’s not concerned about the lack of personal items. She’s just happy to be out of their house.
I’m not sure we’ll ever talk about them–I get the sense we’d both rather move on–but I’ll listen if she ever needs me to. I do have one question though.
“What are you going to do with all your free time?” Between the condo I’m giving her and the cash Uncle Callahan got her in exchange for not pressing charges, at Rose’s request, she doesn’t need to work anymore.
“Nothing, Mr. Tripp. Absolutely nothing.”
“I think that sounds perfect. Can I ask you one favor though?”
She looks at me curiously, but like any mother would, she says. “Of course.”
“Teach me how to cook your ramen? I want to introduce Noah to the comfort food I had growing up.”
Rose bobs her head slightly. “I’d be honored.”
Chapter 25 - Noah
It’s been heaven to be back on the ice.
Honestly, just walking is paradise after not being able to for several weeks. You never realize how much you move throughout the day until you suddenly can’t. Everything from cooking to going to the bathroom, to just trying to find the damn TV remote, becomes a whole production when you have to do it on one leg. Don’t even get me started on how hard it is to actually stand up off the couch with one leg and a set of crutches.
Finally putting my skates on and taking the goal, even just for practice, was like having this oppressive weight lifted off my chest. It didn’t just make me feel independent again the way walking did, it was the difference between a wheezing breath and filling your lungs full of air. Feeling whole. If I’m being honest, the void I felt from not getting on the ice was considerably smaller than it would’ve been if I didn’t have Tripp. So much so, a part of me is kind of dreading this road trip we’re about to go on.
I’m excited to play again, but for the first time in my professional career, I’m not amped about the travel part of playing hockey. After years of staying in hotels, I prefer my own bed, but hotels aside, I usually look forward to seeing new places. It can be grueling, yet it can also be a great way to bond with my teammates. That was when I had no one to say goodbye to, no one waiting for me at home. Now, I do.
Between getting back on the ice and having Tripp move in, I’m privileged to say there’s nothing I could want that I don’t have, which makes it difficult to admit I’m a little sad about leaving for this road trip.
I’m practical enough to realize that means my love for Tripp might surpass my love of the game, and given my age... Let’s just say, I’ll have some deep thinking to do at the end of the season. For now, I just need to get through the next four days.
I toss some sweats, similar to the ones I’m wearing, in my duffel and open the dresser drawer to find some t-shirts while Tripp watches me from his perch on the bed.
“Don’t you have to be all fancy and shit when you travel?” he asks.
“We have to dress up to go to the arena, but we can be comfortable the rest of the time. Fortunately, we go straight to the hotel when we land so I don’t have to travel in a suit.”
“Do you have to travel in gray sweatpants, though?”
“What's wrong with gray sweatpants?”
Tripp’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. “They’re the equivalent of kryptonite for anyone who likes cock, man or woman.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He gives me an exasperated look. “Plus, I don’t think they’re very conducive to hiding that monster between your legs, and I definitely don’t want people posting pictures of my second favorite cock all over social media.”
“I follow the second favorite thing since yours is obviously your first, but you lost me at social media.”
“Omigod, seriously? You don’t know that people will take pictures and zoom in on the crotch and talk about how big the package behind the zipper is? Since those sweats don’t have a zipper they won’t leave nearly as much to the imagination.”
I glance down my body, noting that from different angles he may have a point. Still, it seems crazy to me that people might take such an interest in how I look in my pants. The cross look on Tripp’s face tells me I’m the one who’s under-reacting.
