TWENTY-EIGHT

Mia

His words are still ringing in my ears, long after I hear his breathing deepen with sleep beside me.

By the time we’d docked, John had left and Brian was helping Jordy put dinner together in the kitchen. I’d no idea we’d been out that long, the afternoon had somehow slipped away. If there was any question as to where I’d be staying the night, Griffin answered that the moment he curled up in front of Jared’s couch, once Brian headed home after dinner.

My first impression of him had been all wrong. Something he proved quickly with his whispered apology for giving the wrong impression a few days ago. He managed to catch me at the sink tonight, assuring me once again he’d never seen Jared more relaxed than he is around me. From someone who’s known him for years, it felt good to hear I have the same impact on him as he appears to have on me.

Jordy ducked into her room shortly after Brian left, which left Jared and me, the dog at our feet.

“What do you want to watch?” he’d asked, remote in hand.

“I’m not really in the mood for anything.” Jared’s arm tightened around me.

“Not in the mood?” His voice dipped low against my ear.

“For TV,” I clarified, and stifled my giggle when he lifted me clear off the couch, earning an annoyed grunt from Griffin, and carried me straight to his bedroom. There he showed me exactly what he was in the mood for.

The weight of his sleeping body, half-draped over mine, is welcome. I came hard after Jared used that body to worship mine. There’d been no words needed as he showed me with his hands and mouth, as well as other parts, what he conveyed earlier on the boat. He loves me. The language of his touch a much stronger impact even than his voiced thoughts. It’s like he needed to impress his feelings on my skin, so there’d no longer be room for any doubt. And there wasn’t.

I love you.

I still hear the words as I let them settle in my heart and succumb to sleep myself.

-

I’ve only been back to my place to pick up some dog food, clean clothes, and some groceries that would otherwise spoil. It didn’t take much to convince me to hang out at Jared’s. There was still security necessary at the gate. Apparently curiosity kept interest from the press high and likely would until the Friday newspapers hit the stands. So anticipation had been high for the article in The Sun to come out.

I’m up early Friday morning, letting Griffin out, and enjoying my coffee and book on the dock, when the sliding doors open and Jordy sticks her head outside.

“It’s up!” she calls out, and I don’t need to ask what she’s talking about.

Grabbing my empty cup and my Kindle, I rush inside after her.

Jared

“Did you read it?”

I walk into the kitchen to find Mia, a scowl on her face.

I just finished showering after waking up and finding her gone from bed. I figured if I didn’t hit the bathroom right away, I might not get a chance to today. That proves to have been a good call, judging by Mia’s reaction.

“Not yet,” I calmly reply, walking into her space and giving her a good morning kiss. Satisfied I managed to momentarily distract her with my mouth, I use the brief pause following to my advantage, and quickly pour myself a coffee. “Show me.” I nudge her, as I sit down at the counter beside her.

“Where did he get this nonsense?” she says, poking her finger at the screen of the opened laptop. I lean in and immediately note the headline.

Domestic Bliss for Kesla

The Enforcer shackled and chained

“Is there a problem?” I turn to her, more than a little confused. The headline is nothing other than what I’d expect from The Sun, designed to hook the reader in. A quick scan through the photo spread and accompanying article, shows nothing really offensive.

“He makes it sound like we’re all living together in some kind of commune,” she pouts, clearly not happy.

“What’s so bad about that?” I probe, and it earns me a fierce glare. “Look,” I try to appease. “I get that this is new to you, this kind of public exposure, but it’s old hat for me. Reporters like adding a little innuendo to get people’s imaginations going. People love reading that shit. I’ve learned not to worry too much about it, unless what is printed is blatantly untrue or damaging. This is surprisingly tame, as far as articles go. It doesn’t really state untruths, it’s just suggestive.”

“Well, it suggests I’ve ditched my little hovel in favour of your dream home,” Mia points out, clicking to the next page where two images are set side by side, one of her cottage, and the other of my place. My house looks like a mansion in the manipulated image, whereas Mia’s cottage is made to look rather desolate and dark. I have to bite my lip not to laugh when I see Mia’s crestfallen face.

“I happen to love your little hovel,” I try to tease a smile out of her.

“Yeah, well, he may not have said it in so many words, but the implication I’m a gold digger is out there,” she says wistfully. “And I still live there.”

I slide a hand up her back and around her neck, gently turning her face toward mine. “A technicality,” I point out, my nose almost touching hers.

“Jared...” she starts, but I don’t let her finish. I cover her mouth with mine, and stop the protest I know was forming on her lips. By the time my tongue tastes her, I’ve forgotten what we were talking about myself.

“It’s one thing to know stuff is going on behind closed doors,” Jordy says, as she comes in through the sliding doors. “But watching you two chew each other’s face before I’ve had a chance to get something solid in my stomach? That’s just not right.” With a healthy dose of drama, she covers her eyes, and stumbles down the hall to the nursery, making Mia giggle.

-

“Absolutely. Yes, I can be there at nine.”

I smile as I watch Mia try and help Jordy into her canoe. My sister had made us laugh when she announced she wanted to be more ‘outdoorsy,’ but Mia had been quick to offer her help. The girls had decided mastering the canoe would be the first requirement.

Brian’s call had come in just as they’d headed across  to Mia’s dock, leaving me in charge of a sleeping Ole. He’d been in touch with the management at the Colts’ office and they were ready to firm up their offer now.

Tomorrow is the first day of the Colts’ training camp and, apparently, they want me there. I don’t mind being thrown to the wolves right off the bat. There’s no better way to prove myself than during two days of scrimmages and instruction. Training camp generally starts with a large contingent of hopefuls but is whittled down to a viable team by the end of the weekend. After that, training starts for the upcoming season. Funny, even though I’m no longer a player, the prospect of being part of a team again is just as exciting.

I watch the girls push away from the dock, and ease onto the lake, rocking the canoe in the process. In true big brother fashion, I’m half-waiting for the damn thing to tip over so I can have a good laugh, despite a bit of wobbling, they stay afloat.

Grabbing the baby monitor off the counter, I head outside to the garage, where I’m hoping to find my skates. It’s been a while since I’ve been on them, but skating is as instinctive as walking, after spending most of my life on the ice. A large metal shelving unit against the far wall looks to hold all my sporting equipment, as well as a bunch of boxes.

Curious, I lift one down. On the flap it says: Memorabilia. I pull the flap loose and open the box up. On top of what looks like a pile of newspapers is a puck wrapped in hockey tape. On the side a date is written. My first goal. I haven’t seen it since I proudly handed it over to my father after that game. I put it aside and pull out the newspapers, all featuring a different milestone in my career; that first NHL goal, selection to the Olympic team, trades, trophies. Underneath are ribbons and medals from my junior hockey and rep days. An album with every team and individual picture from the time I was six and joined my first team.

That’s when it dawns on me that these boxes came from my parents’ house. Brian had taken charge of packing up most of their belongings after they died. I hadn’t been in any shape to tackle that task. I’d been too busy trying to stay upright for my sister’s sake. These must’ve been in storage with a lot of my other stuff. I’d taken to storing things I didn’t need in my everyday life, to make it easier to pick up and go. I’d lived in a number of different apartments, in different cities, over the years. Always with a minimum of clutter. I used to tell myself it was more convenient that way, but I realize now it was more than that. Unpacking my baggage would mean setting down roots, and I wasn’t ready for that.

By the time Ole’s little whimpers sound through the monitor, I’m sitting on the floor of the garage, every last box pulled down from the shelves and the contents spread around me. My life spread out on the cool concrete. As I get up to see to my nephew, I wonder if maybe I’m ready now.

“Hey, little man,” I murmur in his downy hair when I lift him from the bed. He’s not crying, just complaining and I soon discover it’s because of a soaking wet diaper. Poor kid’s romper is drenched. “Let me clean you up, buddy. I’ve got something to show you.”

Mia

“That was fun, but I’m sure my arms will be sore tomorrow,” Jordy says, as we pull the canoe up on the dock.

“Mine will be, too,” I admit, feeling the slight pull in my muscles. “Only a few weeks without my daily exercise and it feels like it was my first time.”

We paddled straight to Jared’s dock. Jordy wanted to get home, since it was close to Ole’s next feeding. I follow her inside the house and turn to the kitchen while she continues to the nursery. I down a glass of water, while checking the fridge for something to make for dinner. I wonder if Jared is in his office, it’s awfully quiet in here.

“Where the heck are they?” Jordy comes out of the back hallway, confusion on her face as she turns down the other hallway, leading to Jared’s office and bedroom.

“Nothing?” I ask when she reappears seconds later.

“I don’t get it.” She moves to the front door and I follow behind. Jared’s car is still parked in the drive, as is Jordy’s, so they can’t have gone far.

“Hey,” Jared’s voice rings out. He’s in the garage, the door is halfway up, and he’s sitting amid a big mess on the floor, Ole in his lap.

“What are you doing?” Jordy wants to know, walking ahead of me.

“Looking through some stuff I didn’t even realize was in here,” he says, handing Ole to his mom. He started squirming the moment he heard Jordy’s voice. My attention is drawn to an opened album, showing a picture of a young boy with a toothless smile.

“Is that you?” I ask, as I lean down to pick it up to study it more closely. Undeniably Jared, with the same clear eyes and mischievous smile, minus a couple of front teeth, and no older than maybe seven.

“He was cute then,” Jordy says looking over my shoulder. “I’m gonna feed this boy. You guys figure out dinner?”

“Sure,” I mumble, a little absentminded, as I flip to the next page. It’s not until I no longer hear her footsteps that I realize how easily that slipped out. The assumption I’d be here for dinner, as if I belonged here. My eyes find Jared, who is looking up at me from his perch on the floor. “You were cute,” I say a bit uneasily. I’m not quite sure how to place the look he is giving me.

“Were?”

“Cute is not a word I’d associate with you now,” I point out.

“Thank fuck for that,” he groans, but does it smiling. “Come sit.” He clears a spot on the floor beside him and I sink down, clutching the album in my lap.

“What is all this?”

“Stuff I haven’t seen in years. Not since my parents died. My entire career up to that point is in these boxes. They kept everything.” Despite the smile on his face, I hear the pain of loss in his voice and scoot a little closer.

“They were proud of you,” I gently suggest, rubbing my hand along his spine.

“That they were. Of both of us,” he says, pointing out another few boxes left on the shelf. “Those are Jordy’s. I doubt she’s ever seen them.”

“So how did they end up here?”

“Brian shipped it all from storage when I moved in.” I watch him idly flip a puck between his large fingers like a coin, a sad smile on his mouth. I put my head on his shoulder and flip a page of the album.

“Tell me about this one...” I point to a picture of Jared, lying sprawled on the ice, in front of a team of grinning boys, a large trophy in the middle. I can feel the low chuckle vibrate in his body, as he drapes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.

“The OMHA championship trophy.”

I listen to the rumble in his chest as he recounts his first real taste of success, and every one after. It becomes clear to me how much he’s lost. After the death of his parents, his career was what kept him grounded, and now that is over, what does he have left?

“I have my sister, and Ole, and more than I’d hoped for in you,” he says softly, correctly guessing at my thoughts as he wipes a pesky tear from my cheek.