“That player there”—Conner pointed to a Carolina player—“is crashing Dad’s zone. He’s not going to like that.”
Autumn real y didn’t have a clue what her son was talking about until Sam slammed the player into the boards and the Plexiglas shook. Autumn gasped as he dug at the puck with his stick and shot it down ice. He looked up, sweat dripping down his nose. For one brief second, his gaze met hers, and he smiled.
Suddenly she knew how that Carolina player felt. Like she was getting slammed around. Like he was putting the “big hurt” on her, only she liked it and wanted more.
Her chest got kind of tight and panicky. She had to pul back. She didn’t trust Sam. She didn’t trust herself. Like before, everything was moving too fast. And this time, if and when it ended, she wasn’t the only one who would suffer.
And yet, that night he came to her house like he belonged there. He said good night to Conner, then moved into the kitchen. “Do you have any frozen peas in here?” he asked as he opened the freezer.
He wore black sweatpants, a blue Chinooks T-shirt, and a big red mark on his cheek. “Mixed veggie medley.”
“That’l do.” He took it out and shoved the bag beneath the elastic of his sweats. “The organization just hired a new forward from Russia.”
She smiled. She liked how he told her things about his day and asked about hers.
“He’s young, though,” Sam continued. “Seems kind of irresponsible, selfish, and reckless.”
He sounded like a hockey player to her, and she lifted a brow and looked at him.
He chuckled. “I’m not that reckless these days.”
“Wel , I guess one out of three is…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “ . . . progress.”
He grinned like a proud, reformed sinner. “I’m working on the other two.”
She leaned her behind against the counter and folded her arms across the fish on her shirt. “You might want to work a bit harder.”
“I have been working harder. I thought maybe you noticed.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Maybe you should show me some appreciation.” He grasped her forearms and slid them around his waist. “Show some encouragement.”
And she did. She encouraged the hel out of him al night long, but the next morning, he was gone. They’d both agreed that he should not be there in the morning when Conner got up. Or rather, she’d set down the rule, and Sam had reluctantly agreed. He didn’t see anything wrong with Conner seeing so much of his parents together, but he clearly wasn’t thinking about the future. About the day when he wouldn’t be around as much. Autumn thought about it, though. A lot. Thought about it and felt like she was sitting around, waiting for the axe to fal on her throat.
“I made a picture,” Conner told her at the breakfast table the next morning. While she poured his Cheerios, he ran to his art station. Conner was official y on Christmas break from school, and she had an event planned for a local charity that afternoon at the Four Seasons. Normal y, she’d take Conner to his day care, but Sam wanted to spend time with him before hitting the road for Chicago later that night. She expected him at eleven after his morning practice.
Conner ran back into the dining room and set a piece of white notebook paper on the table. “Come look, Mom.”
Autumn poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to Conner. On the paper beside his cereal bowl, he’d drawn a picture of her and Sam with himself in the middle. The figures were al holding hands and had big lopsided smiles. For the first time, he’d drawn them al as a family. “This is you and me and Dad.”
Her stomach fel as she drank her coffee. “That’s a good picture. I like my pink skirt.” She swal owed hard. “But you know your daddy just comes over sometimes to see you. Right? He doesn’t live here.”
Conner shrugged. “He can if he wants.”
“He has his apartment downtown.”
“But he can move here. Josh F’s dad lives at his house with him.”
“Conner, not al dads live in the same house with their children. Not al families are like Josh F’s. Some families have two dads,” she said to take his mind of things that weren’t going to happen. “Or two moms.”
Conner shoveled Cheerios into his mouth. “Dad can move in if he wants to, Mom. He has a big truck.” Like it was just a matter of Sam packing up his truck and moving in. “And then you can make me a little brother.”
She gasped. “What? You want a brother?”
Conner nodded. “Josh F. has a little brother. So Dad has to move here so I can have a brother.”
“Don’t get your heart set on it, Conner.” He suddenly wanted his parents under the same roof and a brother?