Deanna isn’t answering my texts. She’s had a full twenty-four hours to do so, too. Why would she ignore me? Things were back on track when I left. We’re out to eat at some fancy restaurant someone insisted on going to, but I can’t focus. Zane is on one side of me and EJ is on the other.
Feeling like a complete idiot, I decide to ask Zane a stupid question. “Hey, can I ask you something about Deanna?”
“Like what?”
“Did she ever ignore you?”
The beginning of a grin makes me want to punch him. “Sure, but it was either because she didn’t want to talk to me or because she was with someone else.”
“You’re a dick.”
He laughs. “You asked.”
She wouldn’t be with someone else, so that isn’t why she’s ignoring me. I’m almost completely certain of that. Turning to EJ, I say, “Can Raelynn do something for me? I’ll pay her whatever you pay her in a week.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What do you want her to do?”
“Go to Deanna’s work, talk to her, see what her mood is like.”
“Spy on her for you?”
“Yeah.”
He shakes his head, but pulls his phone out to text her. A moment later, he confirms that she’s out running errands and she’ll swing by the quilt shop for me. No pay needed. I was willing to double her week’s pay if she had said no. I’m that desperate to figure out what’s going on with Deanna.
Scotty sits across the table with Marco on one side and Serge on the other. Marco and Scotty seem to be quietly arguing over something.
“What’s wrong with you two?” I ask. Anything is better than thinking about Deanna right now.
“Nothing,” Scotty answers while Marco says, “We’re finally telling everyone the sex of the babies.”
Oh, that’s right. Their wives, Sylvia and Lizzy, are both pregnant. “Well? Which one of you is going first?” I direct the question at Scotty since he’s older.
He glances at Marc. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.”
They have the table’s full attention now. “Just get on with it,” Bruiser rushes them.
“Scotty,” Marco quickly says. “It’s Sylvia’s first pregnancy, so Scotty can tell everyone first.”
Wait, what? Doesn’t he have that backward? I glance around, but I’m the only one confused and surprised by this. EJ leans over and whispers, “I’ll fill you in later; they talked about it a little when they announced the pregnancy.”
Got it. Scotty stands and takes a deep breath. “Come February, I will be the proud father of...” The guys rap their hands on the table, earning us glares from nearly everyone in the restaurant. “A little boy,” Scotty finishes with a proud grin. “My girls are all very excited, but so am I because I’ll be a little less outnumbered.” Scotty sits back down.
“Now, for Marco,” Rams says as he nudges Marc’s shoulder.
Marc stands and his grin is there before he even speaks. He waves his hand in the air and the drum roll comes once again. “It’s a boy and a girl! She’s having twins!”
“Way to go, Marco!” Cal shouts.
That means there will be three more little rebels coming to the family in a few months. In the past year, it expanded by three with Bruiser’s two kids and EJ’s baby. As long as the next person isn’t me, I’ll be happy for everyone.
“Hey.” EJ bumps his elbow against mine. “Raelynn said she stopped by the quilt shop. One of the employees said Deanna took a last-minute vacation and they don’t know when she’ll be back.”
A vacation? Last minute? I can see her freaking out and ignoring me, but why would Deanna abandon her job? She cares more about that than anything else. Something isn’t right. Something must be wrong and it must be big. It both worries me and pisses me off that she’s choosing to ignore me as a way of dealing with whatever it is.
To get my mind off of it, I ask EJ to tell me how this is Sylvia’s first pregnancy. Apparently, they adopted their girls from Lizzy after her husband died and she’s had fertility issues for a long time. Interesting and a bit confusing, but whatever. It’s not really any of my business. The table buzzes with happy energy over the news about the babies, but something seems off with Scotty. He’s happy, but he seems worried about something too.
When he decides to leave a bit early, I follow suit and catch up with him on the way out.
“Oh, hey, Brayden,” he says when I step in next to him.
“Hey. Congrats on the boy.”
“Thanks,” he smiles.
“Is everything okay?”
He shrugs. “They put Sylvia on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy. She’s freaked out now.” Scotty sighs. “We never thought we’d have a kid of our own, you know? I keep telling her that since she’s pregnant, things will be fine. That we’re not worrying about what ifs. But now, they’ve put her on bedrest and every time she calls me between now and when that baby boy comes, I’ll wonder if it’s a good call or a bad call.”
“I get it,” I say, though I’m sure I don’t understand it on the same level he does. After all, he’s the one going through it; I’m not. “We’re here for you, you know.” He nods. “And I’m sure the women won’t mind popping in and checking on her throughout the day.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. She might want to see someone other than our moms.”
I hope everything goes well for him. He’s a good guy and he definitely deserves it.
“Hayes!” Coach Mike shouts. “What the fuck are you doing out there? Your turnovers and penalties led to three goals!” All of this happened in one period. I’m not sure I’ve ever been singled out like this. At least, not so clearly in recent years. “Get your shit together!”
That’s what I said to Deanna, too. Maybe that’s what she’s doing. I hope so. Man, I wish I had my phone close by, so I could see if she’s checked in. Someone slaps me in the back of the head, sending my already hunched-over body forward. I glare over at EJ since he’s the only one making eye contact right now.
“What the fuck?”
“Focus. Be a fucking captain and not some lovesick puppy whose ass I wanna kick.”
All his comment does is remind me of my uneasiness at the beginning of this thing. This is exactly why I didn’t want to care about Deanna in the first place. She’s fucking with my head and it’s messing with my game. That is unacceptable.
Compartmentalization.
People do it all the time. For fuck’s sake, I have to be able to do it too. I take all thoughts of Deanna, all my worries, and shove them into a tiny box, which I then throw into the darkest place of my mind.
This is fucking stupid.
I’m on the bench for the start of the second and EJ pats my helmet. He points to the ice. Right, focus like the captain and hockey player I am. I glance up at the jumbotron and wince at the three-one score. I don’t even know who scored for us.
My blood settles. I did not come this far in my career for a fucking woman to screw it up. It might be one game, but that’s one game too many in my books.
Coach Mike sends my line onto the ice. We quickly gain possession and leave our zone. Scotty protects the puck from behind the net. Their goalie moves left to right, keeping an eye on him. In one swift moment, he passes it to where I am, right in front of the blue paint. A slight adjustment of my stick and it sails up in the air. The goalie is angled my way. He lifts his arm to block, but the puck deflects off his side and into the net.
My arms fly up into the air as the home crowd silences. “Fuck yeah, Scotty!” I give him a hug as the rest of the guys come over to celebrate. It’s not until we’re skating over to the bench that I realize I just truly celebrated a goal. My cheeks and mouth even feel weird from smiling. I should get pissed off and think less more often, I guess. Before I can think too much about whether people will realize I celebrated, and thus pay more attention to me, I shut my mind off and focus on the action on the ice. We still need another goal to tie.
That goal comes from EJ. But the tie is almost broken when a bad line change causes a Bruin to take off on a breakaway. Savage looks ready. The guy tries to go five-hole, but Savage shuts down that attempt and holds the puck.
Needless to say, the second period goes better than the first. The third even better. I score again and unthinkingly celebrate another goal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but who cares? My hockey is benefiting from it.
I’m in my hotel room and I’m staring at all the unanswered texts to Deanna. What’s one more?
Me: You’re on vacation?
She wouldn’t expect me to know that, so maybe it’ll startle her enough to make her respond. I give her five minutes and nothing happens, so I set my phone aside and go to sleep. We have one more game before we go home. I plan to play good hockey. If she responds, she responds. One thing is for certain at this point, I won’t be seeing her on Sunday, even if she’s returned from her vacation.
She wants to do whatever it is she’s doing? Fine. She’ll either find me when she’s done or she won’t. My first priority will be hockey until I can’t stand it anymore and I give in and hunt her down. Thinking such a thing feels wrong, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m not home. Deanna apparently took off. Waiting seems to be my only option.
I don’t send any more texts, but Deanna finally responds Sunday morning, as if she was waiting for me to come home.
Deanna: Only at my grandma’s house.
What? She still has her grandma’s house or something? Why is she hiding out there?
Me: Do you want to see me? I don’t have time for whatever shit you’re pulling.
Maybe I shouldn’t have added that last part, but I’m pissed. All that anger I’ve been ignoring is suddenly back on the surface and raging hot.
Deanna: That looks like a trick question, to ask and then say you don’t have time.
Me: I’m tired. I have a game tonight. My time is limited today. My point is you need to quit fucking around with me.
The next text is an address. Nothing more. I don’t waste time putting it into the GPS and driving over there. The house sits in the middle of nowhere, it seems. It’s the kind of house that needs a little work. Just looking at it makes me want to create a list of the minor work that needs to be done. Deanna opens the door as I open my car door and Otis runs out to greet me.
She doesn’t smile. For some reason, I expected as much.
“Did you bring me out here to break up with me or something?”
She shrugs. Shrugs! What the fuck does that even mean? It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. Deanna sits in one of the rocking chairs, the air not too terribly cold out here today. I sit in the one next to her, the wood groaning under my weight. My hand is still on Otis’s head, rubbing behind his ears. Safe to say he missed me at least.
“Why did you tell your employees you’re on vacation if you’re hiding out in your grandma’s house?”
“I needed a break and I come here sometimes when I need one. She left this to me, too.” She glances around at the yard and the porch.
“A break from what?”
“Everything.” Before I can ask her to elaborate, she says, “I met your ex-girlfriend.”
I frown. “Which ex-girlfriend?” There aren’t that many.
“I don’t know. She was in the store with her grandmother that day when you brought me lunch. She saw you, snorted when you promised to see me today, and said she hoped you were better now than you were with her.”
“Well, that’s not very helpful.”
“Did you treat all your ex-girlfriends badly?”
“No, but—”
She looks up at me with no emotion in her eyes. “Then how hard can it be? Maybe it’s the girl you kicked out of your house the last time you were injured.”
My muscles tense and my fingers freeze on Otis’s head. “How do you know about that?” Otis nudges my wrist, wanting me to keep rubbing. I get back to making him happy.
“Maryann told me. Brayden, how exactly does that equate to not finding a balance, which is what you told me?” Her tone is full of accusations. You’d think I did her wrong and not some other girl.
I sigh. “Because work was the priority. Why does that even matter? What does that have to do with us?”
“Do you even see a future of any kind for us?”
For fuck’s sake, why do women have to bounce around from one topic to another like a pinball? “Of course I do,” I answer. “Where is this coming from?”
“That’s not what you said at Thanksgiving. You said you hadn’t thought of a future.”
“I was talking about kids!” I interrupt.
Deanna keeps talking, ignoring my interruption. “So, in my head, I have that comment, how your mother said you broke up with your last girlfriend because you thought she got in the way of your career, and the fact that for the most part, I make poor decisions when it comes to life. On top of all of that, I run into one of those slime bags who doesn’t hesitate to remind me because he’s an asshole after all. And then, I thought I was pregnant.”
“What?” The word is loud and full of shock in my head, but it leaves my mouth in a mere whisper.
“I’m not, but I thought I was, which is why I ran here. My period was just late for some reason. Before it started, I couldn’t help but think about all those things my mother wrote, how I definitely don’t want to be a mom right now, and how you most certainly don’t want to be a dad. Afterward, I felt guilty and really couldn’t deal.”
Her words take two minutes to sink in. “You don’t trust me.”
She doesn’t say a word, and I give her ample time to speak. Finally, she does say, “I don’t trust myself either.”
I stand and move to the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing as I face her. “What the fuck, Deanna? Having doubts is one thing, but thinking you’re pregnant and fucking running? Ignoring me for days? And when I finally see you, you’re throwing my past against me when it has absolutely nothing to do with you?” She opens her mouth to object. I lunge forward and grab the armrests of the rocking chair, my face an inch from hers. Otis stands between our knees, but I ignore him.
“When have I put my job first with you? If you can name one fucking time, then you might have something to bitch about, but you don’t. Even then, what I did over five years ago with another woman has no relevance in our relationship.” I stand upright and put the space between us. “What you did before you met me? Has no meaning in our relationship either as far as I’m concerned. Stop worrying about the past and focus on how you’re fucking things up right now. You keep testing my patience, Deanna, and I’m running out of it. You either want to be with me and you work through it, or you don’t and you walk away. And if you’re sure you want to be with me, you don’t ever fucking run.
“You commit. You go all in. It doesn’t matter how scared you are or how many doubts you have. You stay. It’s the only way to make it worth your while.” I walk over to the steps. “I have to go. You make up your mind once and for all. And for the record, I’m not the kind of asshole who dumps you because you’re pregnant, but it’s nice that you wondered if I would.” I walk down the steps and get into my car without glancing back at the porch.
Pissed doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling right now. I might not choose to give everything my full attention, or commit to it one hundred percent, but when I do, I don’t back down from any challenges that arise along the way. I’m all in all the time. And I don’t like others who aren’t. I didn’t figure Deanna to be one of those people who committed and then half-assed it. That’s essentially what she’s done by running.
That is not how you handle things. Was she even thinking when she ran out? When she read each of my texts, was it easy for her to ignore them? I don’t understand what kind of person can simply walk away from a commitment without a word. I’ve been busting my ass to make sure Deanna comes first, that I don’t make the sames mistakes that I have in the past because I want to be with her so much, and she’s done nothing but wait anxiously for the other shoe to drop. She’s the one who threw it down onto the ground!
I’ll admit my faith in myself flounders from time to time, but my faith in Deanna? It never wavered. Trusting someone else can be easier than trusting yourself. At least, I thought so. Deanna appears to trust neither herself nor me just as equally. Again, it pisses me the hell off. She’s sentencing our relationship based on my past crimes with someone else.
Grabbing my phone, I call my mom.
“Brayden,” she answers happily. “How are you?”
“What in the hell were you doing talking about Wendy with Deanna?”
Mom’s voice hardens. “Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Brayden. Tell me what has you upset.”
“Deanna has gone off the rails, in part because you told her more than I did about what happened with Wendy. She doesn’t trust my word anymore. Since when do you meddle and get involved when it’s none of your fucking business?” I pull into my driveway and head inside, knowing exactly what I want to do: run on the treadmill.
“I know you’re pissed, but I’m not going to warn you again. I don’t care how old you are, I’m your mother and you’re being disrespectful using that language with me. All I did was ask her what she wanted and she instead asked me what you wanted. I told her you already had what you wanted because you had her and Otis. I may have said too much, and I’m sorry. Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No. I think you talking to Deanna has done more than enough. I gotta go. Love you.” I hang up without waiting for her to tell me goodbye.