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“I don’t want a birthday this year,” I tell him.
He adjusts his arm and eliminates the gap between our bodies. I carefully rest my cheek on his bare pec, and his heartbeat thumps a steady beat in my ear, reassuring me that he’s okay. His fingertips draw lazy patterns on my back. Exhaustion barrels into me.
“Too bad.”
I kiss his chest, letting my eyes close. “You hate birthdays.”
“I love yours.”
My lips spread in a small, lazy smile. That sounded a lot like an I love you.
40
OAKLEY
SEVEN YEARS AGO
Maddox sitsacross from me in the kitchen, wearing a Vancouver Warriors hoodie and matching track pants. He finished hockey practice an hour ago and stopped by in an attempt to get me to make him one of my refuelling smoothies. I caved the moment he asked and went right to work pulling the old container of protein powder out of the basement pantry.
“This is really good. Thanks, Dad.”
The slurping noise that fills the kitchen as he drinks the last of the smoothie is enough to let me know I haven’t lost my smoothie-making skills since retiring from the league. That seems like a lifetime ago.
“I’ll give you the recipe so you can make it yourself, unless there’s another reason you came here today. Like, maybe missing your old man,” I tease.
He smacks his lips in a way he knows I can’t stand the sound of and hops off the kitchen stool to load his cup into the dishwasher. He’s twenty-four now and playing in the NHL, so it’s nice to know he hasn’t lost his manners.
“I do miss you, Dad. I miss everyone.”
“How do you like the new place?”
His eyes light up. “It’s really nice. Quiet and has a killer view.”
He bought a new construction penthouse, so I think really nice is an understatement. It’s gorgeous and far bigger than his last place.
“That’s great, Dox. I remember the first place your mother and me got after we moved in together. It was nowhere as nice as yours.”
He snorts a laugh and then sobers up, rubbing his lips together. “I wanted to invite Noah out soon. Think he’ll come?”
“I do.” Hopefully.
“Is he home right now?”
I lean forward and brace my elbows on the edge of the kitchen island, staring at my eldest son. While my relationship with Noah has always been on the rockier side, it’s gotten worse as the years have gone on. The boys’ relationship has unfortunately turned down the same road. They’re such vastly different people that it’s hard for them to relate to one another, and neither of them seems willing to find a way to work that out. Hopefully things will change sooner rather than later. Before the rift between them has grown too far to jump across.
“He wasn’t home when I got back from the gym a half hour ago.”
He nods and closes the dishwasher before sitting back on his stool. “Did he tell you that he turned away that internship interview with the record company I got him in touch with?”
I blow out a breath, shaking my head. “No. He didn’t.”
“What is it going to take for him to put himself out there? He’s fucking amazingly talented, Dad. It feels wrong for him to continue to turn down these opportunities.”
“He’s only seventeen. More will come along for him.”
At least, I hope so. I don’t want to see him push and push until there’s nothing left. We all have to remind ourselves that he has his entire life ahead of him. There’s no reason for him to rush into anything yet, even if it kills us to see him make certain choices.
“Yeah, more that he’ll continue to turn away.”
