Chapter 12

Max: My ass hurts.

Kendra: I’m not sure what to say to that. Can I suggest some Preparation H? A smaller anal toy?

No! Jesus. Not that way! My glutes hurt. All my muscles hurt.

Ah. I understand.

Do you make anal toys?

Of course.

I thought you made toys for women.

What, women can’t like buttsex?

Do you?

That’s a personal question.

We’re sex buddies. Right? We can’t talk about buttsex?

True. Okay, I like it. But it has to be done right. The right lube. Right position.

Damn. Now I want to fuck your ass.

How did this convo go from your ass to my ass? You had a hard workout today, I gather.

Yeah. Don’t worry, I wasn’t getting back door action.

I can handle it. Had a great massage after.

Nice. ??

What the hell does that mean?

*sigh* Happy ending.

Not that kind of massage! You have a dirty mind.

Can’t argue with that.

How was your day?

Busy. We’re working on a new finger vibe.

Again, I say…you have a dirty mind…

It’s my job.

Why do you do this to me? I was trying to get off the subject of sex so my poor will calm down.

Developing a new sex toy isn’t all that sexy. Sometime I’ll tell you more.

Do you test your own products?

Of course.

But not like…with each other? Like you and your friend don’t, uh, beat the beaver together in the same room…?

NO! Beat the beaver???? OMG I am laughing so hard right now. You really do have a dirty mind.

Can’t help it. That’s a hot image. Even tho I’ve never met your friend.

“Max!”

It’s Saturday morning, the weekend after going up to Army’s house, and I’m visiting Ariana’s family.

Kevin’s face lights up and he runs at me and throws his arms around me.

My heart expands up into my throat as I hug him back.

He’s a man, albeit not a huge man, only about five foot eight, stocky but fit, squeezing the breath out of me.

“Easy dude,” I say, laughing. “You’re gonna break my ribs.”

I manage to extricate myself but only after I hug him back. Then we do the complicated handshake I taught him and both of us grin.

“I miss you!” Kevin yells. His slight speech impediment doesn’t obscure his meaning and enthusiasm.

“Easy, Kev,” his mom says, standing behind him in the foyer of the Adamski home. She’s smiling, too. How could you not?

Kevin nods and pulls me farther into the house. “Come in, Max. Sit. Wanna drink, Max?”

I meet Julie’s eyes and we share an amused look. “I’d love a drink, Kev. Let me say hi to your mom first.”

I cross to Julie and give her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Max.” She studies my face. “It’s been too long. How are you?”

“I’m doing well.” I meet her eyes, nodding firmly as if to reassure her.

“You look well.” Her gaze runs over my face. “Healthy. Relaxed.”

“I’ve been feeling really good since I got into my training program. Getting ready to get back to hockey.”

“Me, too!” Kevin interjects. “I played hockey all summer! I’m gonna go to Austria!”

“Yeah?” I turn and sling an arm around his neck as we walk into the living room. “You’re working hard?”

“Yes, I am.”

“What would you like to drink, Max? Coffee? Tea?”

“Just some water, thanks.”

Kevin pulls me to sit on the couch, still so excited to see me I have a tightness in my throat.

“Tell me about your floor hockey,” I invite him.

He starts talking about it, the words sometimes halting but coming faster and faster in his excitement.

Ariana’s younger brother Kevin is twenty years old and he has Down syndrome. That doesn’t stop him from doing a lot of things, thanks to his parents, and Ariana and her sister, too. I’ve heard the story from Ariana and from her parents about what a difficult adjustment it was for their whole family when he was born, learning about his prognosis. But they didn’t let it keep them or him down for long. Both Ariana’s parents were college athletes. Ariana herself was a champion volleyball player in high school. Her parents weren’t the type of people to give in to the notion that Kevin was limited; they preferred to focus on the things he could do. They tried to treat him no differently than their other children, and worked with all kinds of specialists to help him overcome his challenges. When they learned college could be an option for him, they advocated for him at his high school, getting extra support from his teachers, getting him involved in sports. Kevin loved hockey and started playing floor hockey. He was such a success, they next got involved with Special Olympics Chicago and he has a real shot at playing in the winter games being held in Austria next year.

“Max. You’re going to play hockey again, right?” he asks me now.

Behind his glasses, his brown eyes gleam with passion. When Ariana and I started dating and I met Kevin, his instant hero-worship of me because I was a pro hockey player was ego-boosting. But also humbling. Because this kid…he’s an elite athlete, too…only he’s overcome so much more than I ever had to. I need to remember that when I’m whining about how hard Greg is making me work.

Kevin always loved to talk to me about hockey and that hasn’t changed. Even though it’s the off-season, he’s been following prospects and development camps and predictions on which teams will make the playoffs this year. His love of the sport can’t help but infect you.

Julie hands me a glass of water. “No ice,” she says with a smile. “I remember you don’t like ice.”

I grin. “Thanks.”

She takes a seat. “Don should be home any minute.” Ariana’s father.

“How are you doing?” I ask Julie, then take a sip of water.

She tilts her head. Her smile is genuine, but there’s that hint of sadness in her eyes that will probably always be there. She lost her daughter. I know how it feels to have lost my wife, and I know what pain and grief feel like, so I sort of know what she’s been through—but I don’t know what it’s like to lose your child, especially to something so senseless as fucking cancer.

But I also know this family is strong.

“We’re doing okay,” she says and I know she means it. “Life is full and busy and we’re blessed in many ways.” And she smiles at Kevin.

I always loved how they see him as a blessing. I came to see him that way, too, like the little brother I never had who looked up to me. Not like my little sisters who saw me as first a pest, then the guy who got in the way of them having fun with boys and booze. And I hate myself for not coming around as much as I used to because of my own pain.

“I wish you would come to my games,” Kevin is saying. “That would be s-so cool!” He claps his hands together.

“When does the season start? Send me your schedule. I might not be able to come to many once my season starts, but I will definitely come to some. Gotta cheer you on.”

“Yeah!”

Don arrives home then and I stand and greet him with a firm bro shake/hug. “Good to see you, Max,” he says gruffly. “What have you been up to?”

I tell them about the training program and my goal of making it back onto the team this year and they’re happy for me and encouraging. “And we’ll come to your games!” Kevin says.

“If I make the team, I’ll get you tickets,” I promise him.

“Yeah!” He holds out a fist and I bump it with my knuckles.

When I leave there later, I feel…lighter. After Ariana died, every time I visited her family it was agonizing. We were all so sad, and being with them just reminded me of what I’d lost. I guess I was chicken shit and that’s why my visits tapered off. But now…I enjoyed seeing them and catching up and I’m going home not with the knot of misery in my gut that I expected but with a buoyancy and feeling of hope.

Kendra: OMG I’m so frustrated!

Hey, baby. Why r u frustrated?

Every woman we got to test the finger vibe gave us different feedback.

Ugh.

We thought we finally had the design nailed. But no, everyone has a complaint. Too small, too big, wrong shape, too strong, not strong enough. The batteries died. Jesus.

Nailed. Ha.

So now it’s back to the drawing board, damn.

Aw. I’m sorry.

Thanks. Sorry to bug you. Just wanted to vent.

Anytime, spice girl.

What are you doing?

Eating dinner. Wild Pacific salmon, herbed brown rice pilaf and roasted broccoli.

Damn! That sounds amazing.

It’s pretty good. What are you eating?

Um…keep in mind I had a bad day…

What?

Caramel Crackle ice cream.

Well, even I’m allowed to cheat one day a week.

I’ll make up for it at the gym tomorrow. You inspire me.

Aw thanks.

Seriously. Your motivation is impressive.

44 days until training camp. HELL, YEAH I’M MOTIVATED!

And you are going to nail it.

Stawp with the dirty talk! I’m horny enough.

What are you wearing?

Heh. Not much…