“You know the Rebels are my favorite team,” my mom says as she looks down at the new sweatshirt I picked up at the practice rink’s gift shop after my medical clearance appointment with the team doctor. “But if I get used to wearing this gear while cheering for you, I might not recover if you end up going elsewhere.”
She’s teasing, but it’s a subtle reminder that I need to make this year the best year of my career.
“I’m working on making it permanent,” I tell her. “But with only one year left on this contract, we have to be prepared for any possibility.” I wish I could say, ‘I’m not leaving Boston, no matter what.’ But that’s not realistic.
Mom’s disability money doesn’t come close to covering what she’d be making from her teaching salary if this disease hadn’t forced her to retire early, and her medical insurance doesn’t cover as much of her therapy as I wish it did.
For years, I’ve been making up the difference, which is easy to do on an NHL salary. But if I had to leave the league in order to stay in Boston, what would I do for work? I have no other skills or experience to speak of. I’ve been smart enough with my money that it’s not like I’d be broke, but the medical bills add up quickly, and without new income, my savings would take a big hit.
“I’m not worried,” Mom says, her tone filled with confidence. “I have a feeling this is going to be your best year yet.”
Her unwavering support reminds me not to waste my time worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet. I have an entire season ahead of me to prove myself. If I think about the future imagining that I will fail, that’s exactly what will happen. Over the summer, I worked with a sports psychologist who liked to remind me that I’ve gotten in my head like that before, and the results weren’t pretty. At least now I have strategies for how to handle those thoughts when they rear up.
“Tomorrow’s our first pre-season practice.”
“You’re ready.” She spent a good amount of time with me at the ice rink up north, near the lake, where I practiced several times a week all summer long. I’ve practiced and worked out more during this off-season than any other, and spent a good amount of time improving my mental state as well. I’m counting on that dedication paying off.
“I know. I feel good about this change. I think being back in Boston will be good for me.”
Until today, my mom was the only person I’ve openly shared the details with about what went down in Colorado. She’s equally pragmatic and supportive, so she’s always been my sounding board when making decisions. I wish I could be honest with her about how much pressure I’m under right now, but she’d feel terrible if she had any idea how much her care had cost me over my career, or how much my sisters, Caitlyn in particular, had pressured me to move back to Boston. I don’t want her feeling guilty.
I also wish I could tell her about Graham, but I know I need to talk more about that with Audrey first. I don’t even know yet what my relationship with my son will look like, or when it’s appropriate to bring my family into his life. Mom will be absolutely thrilled at the prospect of having another grandchild while simultaneously devastated to have missed out on the first five years.
I already feel overwhelming guilt about missing those years myself, and I hate that my selfishness caused her to miss out on them too. Especially because she’s declining and there’s so much she can’t do with him that she could have done earlier.
“It will be good for you,” Mom insists. “It already has been. You’re a lighter, happier person since you moved back at the beginning of the summer.”
“It was the off-season,” I say with a shrug. “I spent most days on the lake. I worked out and ran drills on the ice, all without the pressure of games or teammates. How could I have not been happy?”
“You weren’t this happy in previous summers.” My mom folds her arms across her chest.
“I was never home for the whole summer. Things are just…different here.”
“Which is why it’s perfect that you’re back living here, and not just visiting.” She gives me a small smile, and then there’s a knock on the door and Missy is coming through with her boys hot on her heels. Am I a bad person for being thankful that Caitlyn has classes tonight? Probably.
“Uncle Drew!” Ryan shrieks as he runs right past my mom and wraps his whole body around my legs. If I wasn’t expecting it, he’d probably have knocked me over—at four, he’s unusually tall for his age.
“Hey, Ry,” I say as I reach down and ruffle his hair.
“Look what I brought,” Finn says, holding up a graphic novel that I recognize. It’s part of the series I ordered for him a couple of weeks ago. The kid has been determined to read for a year, and first grade has already brought big gains in his ability. Graphic novels intended for his age have been perfect for capturing his attention without being too full of big words that frustrate him.
“Great! Are you going to read it to me?” I ask, and it makes me wonder how Graham feels about reading? Does he like Audrey to read him stories before bed at night?
“Yeah, if you want.”
“Books are boring,” Ryan complains.
“Not when you can read them yourself,” his older brother tells him.
“Well, I can’t read yet.”
“But you’ll learn,” Missy says with the gentle, patient voice she always uses with her boys. Ryan, in particular, is very high energy, while Finn is quieter and more independent. “I bet Finn could teach you some words, if you’d sit still long enough to listen.”
“I’d rather play,” Ryan says, holding up two action figures I didn’t even realize he was holding.
“That’s fine,” Missy says, “but don’t try to interrupt your brother while he’s reading to Uncle Drew, okay?”
Ryan groans. “Reading is so boring.”
Missy looks at me, widening her eyes, and I immediately know what she wants from me. “I bet you haven’t read enough books to really know what kinds of books you like yet,” I tell Ryan, squatting down to his level. “Reading lets you go on adventures in your imagination, and it’s awesome.”
“I don’t want adventures in my imagination. I want real adventures.”
“Yeah, but when you read, you can go places that don’t even exist—like a land with dragons, or an underwater castle, or a city where superheroes live.”
“Like in the movies?” Ryan asks, his interest visibly growing.
“Exactly.”
“This book has superheroes,” Finn tells him.
Ryan’s eyebrows raise and his lips press together in a suppressed smile that has all of us laughing. It’s the perfect I’m interested but pretending I’m not look.
“Maaaaaaybe I’ll listen when you read it,” he says begrudgingly to Finn.
“First, though, are we going to eat this amazing-smelling food Uncle Drew brought, or what?” Missy asks, sending me a grateful look.
“Yes!” the boys yell as they run toward the table where aluminum containers full of BBQ are spread out.
“Thanks,” Missy mouths silently.
“Rusty working tonight?” I ask as we head into the kitchen.
“Yeah, there was a call right before closing about a hot water tank that’s not working.”
“That couldn’t wait until tomorrow? It’s not like it’s cold enough at night yet that they need it for heat.”
“Apparently, dishes and showers couldn’t wait, and you know how Rusty never says no to overtime.”
It’s true. He owns his own plumbing company, and has always set aside the overtime dispatch fees. He then used that money to buy their family boat, fittingly called Overtime, that they keep on Lake Winnipesaukee all summer long. This summer made me realize how much I love being out on the lake, and as long as things pan out with the Rebels and I’m still around, I fully plan on buying myself a boat next summer.
“Good thing he doesn’t.” I smirk. “You and the kids reap the rewards of that.”
“Yeah,” she says, but she sounds resigned.
“Hey.” I elbow her. “What was that?”
“Just wish he was around a little bit more. Sometimes I feel like a single mom.”
That term hits me like a barb stuck right under my skin, poking in a way that’s annoyingly painful. What’s life been like for Audrey? She said she didn’t do it alone, that she had Jameson and Jules, but that can’t have been the same as if I’d been around to share in the parenting. Could it? Though with my travel schedule for road games, she’d still have been doing a lot of it without me.
“I’m glad you’re home now, though,” she says. “The boys love you and are looking forward to spending more time with their fun uncle.”
“Me too,” I say, and even while it’s true, I’m already doing the mental math, figuring out how I’m going to balance all these new draws on my time. It’s just been me, on my own, for so long. Now I’ve got my mom, my sisters and nephews, and Audrey and Graham in my life.
I’ve never had to prioritize other people into my schedule, and I’m already worried about how I’m going to manage it all in addition to hockey.
