Will
April came like Christmas, like a holiday that always seems so far away only to surprise you with its arrival as if it happened quickly and unexpectedly.
Eight games.
We had eight games left until the playoffs.
The pressure was so high, the tension thicker than I’d ever felt.
Coach was strung out, his usual cool façade interrupted by bursts of outrage when we fucked up in practice.
Aleks was focused on the ice, but was up to his usual shenanigans off the ice — which meant our PR team was busy cleaning up after him nearly every week when we were trying to focus on the games ahead.
Vince and Jaxson were wound just as tight as I was, the three of us trying to wrangle the team into one that could win the whole thing.
There was no question on whether or not we’d make it to the playoffs now. We were in.
We’d have a chance to fight for the Cup.
Now, it was about staying healthy, finishing strong, and securing our spot as top seed. That meant home ice advantage for four games instead of three in the seven-game series that made up the playoffs. Playing on our own ice, having our home crowd cheering for us — it meant everything. It could be the difference between winning it all and going home in the first round.
For so long, I’d worked with this team for this exact moment. Years and years of building, working hard, making adjustments. Finally, we just… clicked. We had the right players. We had the momentum. We had the energy, the drive, the luck.
And my focus was fucking shot.
When I was at the rink, I was there. I was in it. I was with my team, all my awareness on the goal I protected, on the players I was trying to lead to our first championship in decades.
But instead of that focus coming with me when I went home, it evaporated instantly the moment I crossed the threshold.
Because when I was home, everything revolved around Chloe.
Chloe, who had twisted me up so fiercely I could barely breathe in her presence. Chloe, who had infiltrated my home, my family, my heart. Chloe, who had become close friends with my chef, who had become best friend to my daughter… maybe even more than that.
Chloe — who had barely talked to me in more than a week.
Since that night in the bathtub, she’d pulled away from me.
It was the smart thing to do. It was what we both needed — namely me. Clearly, I was barely holding onto the reins of our arrangement. But somehow, I’d managed to keep myself on the other side of that line we’d drawn. I hadn’t stayed that night. I hadn’t given in.
Because of that, I’d completely lost her.
I felt it in the way she could barely look at me the next morning, at how every smile she gave me now was weak and lined with a sheen of pain.
In the process of saving myself, I’d hurt her.
It was so clear, so evident, and yet I couldn’t figure out what the hell to do about it.
She wanted this, too. She’d told me as much. I don’t date. I don’t want friends. We were on the same page. Where my reason stemmed from Jenny, hers came from her family, from her desire to be independent and to make them proud of her and her decisions.
But suddenly, it didn’t feel like our reasons were so clear. It didn’t feel like they made fucking sense — not anymore.
I was frozen, unclear in my own feelings and unsure of my next move. I felt her pulling away more and more each day. We didn’t flirt anymore. We didn’t touch. We barely spoke — just enough to communicate about Ava.
I missed her so badly, even when we were in the same room.
And yet I didn’t have the fucking right to.
It didn’t matter that she’d agreed to just sex. I couldn’t call her on that, couldn’t hold her to it — not after all that had transpired in the months since we’d made that agreement.
We both knew it was more than that now.
The difference was that it seemed like she could face that fact — and all I knew how to do was run from it.
Florida was already warming, the promise of a brutal summer evident in the humidity making my hair stick to my neck as I sat on the park bench and watched Ava playing on the slide with Chloe. It was a rare Sunday off — one very much needed — and it was too beautiful of a day to be stuck inside.
It was Chloe’s suggestion to use the day to get back to our mission of introducing Ava to Jenny through things she loved to do. Immediately, this park had come to mind.
Jenny used to come here at least once a week. It was her favorite place to escape from the rush of the world, to take a moment to breathe. The park was shady and quiet, lined with giant oak trees garnished with Spanish moss and a creek that bubbled as background noise just past the picnic benches. It had been more run down when we used to come here together — a forgotten oasis that the local residents didn’t have time or money to improve.
It had changed in the last five years of my absence, though. The old playground had been updated, the picnic tables and gazebos restored, and a new walking and biking trail had been made to run along the creek that eventually led to a river three miles north. The improvements meant the park was busier now, but it was still as gorgeous as ever.
I hid under the brim of my hat and behind the dark frames of my glasses. So far, no one had bothered us. Then again, the dozen other people we shared the park with seemed to be in their own little world, too. There was a family of four eating lunch by the creek, a couple running the path with their dog, a mom watching her kids just a few years older than Ava as they threw a Frisbee.
“Daddy, look!” Ava called, and I snapped my attention from where my eyes were losing focus in the trees to her just in time to watch her fly down the slide on her stomach. She giggled the whole way down, somersaulting at the bottom and popping up with wood chips stuck in her hair and all over her clothes.
“Perfect ten!” I called, grinning, but my heart was racing a bit after watching that tumble. “Be careful, okay?”
“I am!” she promised, and then she was running over to Chloe, who smiled down at her and said something as she ruffled her hair. They were best buds now, two peas in a pod.
When Ava ran off again, Chloe walked toward me, her hands in the pockets of her powder blue sundress and her eyes on her white sneakers. She’d pulled her short hair half up today, and the breeze blew the strands this way and that as she crossed the park.
Wordlessly, she took a seat at the opposite end of the bench from me. She couldn’t have put any more distance between us if she tried. In fact, I was pretty sure half her ass was hanging off the edge of that bench, that if I lightly pushed against her shoulder, she’d topple off.
“Thank you for today,” I said, stretching my arm over the back of the bench as I reclined back. The tips of my fingers brushed her neck when I did.
She leaned forward to avoid the touch.
“It’s a beautiful park,” she said. “I can see why Jenny loved it so much.”
I nodded, heart squeezing under an iron fist at the mention of her name.
Everything in me wanted to shut down in that moment.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My heart kicked in my chest. My lungs struggled for air.
But for the first time in five years, I didn’t grant my body’s wish to run, to avoid, to cease operating.
Instead, I forced a breath that seared my lungs on the way down.
And I talked.
“I came here once after she died.”
Chloe stiffened, tucking her hands under her thighs. She didn’t say anything, but her chin tilted toward me, and though I had my eyes on Ava playing with another little girl her age, I knew Chloe was looking at me.
“I sat right here on this bench and cried like a fucking baby,” I admitted, patting the wood. “It was maybe a week after she’d passed, when my uncle and some of my teammates’ wives were helping me with Ava while I tried to navigate my new life. Jenny’s mom was here, too. I think. Or was that a couple weeks later?” I paused, trying to recall. “To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about that time. Isn’t that so shitty?” I shook my head. “Ava was this beautiful baby, growing more and more every day, and I couldn’t even be fully present for it. I was a zombie.”
I swallowed, my throat constricting as I watched Ava laugh and try her hand at the monkey bars. She fell after the third one, but immediately sprang back up and started again.
“I wouldn’t have made it through without all the help I got, and yet I could barely thank the people who were helping me. I was practically mute. I don’t remember how or when it happened, but slowly, over the years, I started living again. I showed up for Ava as much as I could. I came back to my team and played harder than I ever had. My mentor helped me on that front, reminding me that when I didn’t have anything else, I had hockey. I had the Ospreys.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment, the emotion of those early years washing over me. Again, everything inside me begged to shut down, but I refused.
I wanted to share this with Chloe.
I needed to.
“When I came here, when I was crying so hard I could barely breathe… all I could think about was how Jenny meant more to me than I ever told her.”
The confession slammed into my chest hard enough to make me pause.
“We always said we were just friends. But we were best friends. And we shared the same bed. And we had fun… God, did we have fun. Without Jenny, I was too serious for my own good. But she reminded me to play, to live. I loved her, Chloe,” I said, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were glossy when I met them. “I loved her with my whole heart, and it kills me every day that I lost her. That Ava lost her. That maybe, if we would have been more careful, if she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant… she’d still be here.”
My nostrils flared, throat tightening.
“And then I feel like a monster because I know even if I could go back in time and choose that option — I wouldn’t. And neither would Jenny. Because then Ava wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, Will…”
“Jenny would have been so much better at this than I am,” I continued on a laugh, shaking my head. “Motherhood would have just come easily to her. She never would have worried. She never would have stressed. With her, it would have just been another adventure.”
A moment of quiet passed between us, both of us watching where Ava was playing before I began to speak again.
This time, my voice shook.
“I miss her every day,” I whispered. “But I have another confession to make, one that might affirm what a terrible person I am.”
“You’re not a—”
“Because I miss her, I do,” I said, turning to face Chloe. “But I miss you more.”
Chloe’s face paled, her eyes wide, lips parting. “Me? But I’m right here.”
“No, you’re not. You haven’t been since…”
I swallowed, sucking in a breath. My voice no longer shook. It no longer worked. How did I tell her what I was still trying to figure out myself?
“Chloe, I—”
But before I could say another word, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the park.
Chloe and I both jumped up off the bench, heads snapping toward the playground.
Ava was on the ground, clutching her ankle and wailing in pain.
It all happened so fast. My heart leapt into my throat, feet turning to stone and rooting me to the spot where I stood as the worst-case scenarios played out in my head like a movie reel.
Chloe sprang into action, taking off in a sprint. She was already bending down by Ava’s side by the time I managed to take one slow-motion step.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t form a single word.
I could barely walk, could barely drag myself through the slog of invisible liquid that seemed to be holding me back from my daughter.
The closer I got, the more I saw her anguish. Her face was bright red, her hair covered in wood chips, cheeks stained with tears, and fresh ones leaking out of her eyes. She cried and cried.
She cried for me.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
Ava writhed in pain as Chloe soothed her with a hand on her head, and when I finally made it to them, they both looked up at me.
Like I had the answer.
Like I would know what to do.
I should have. I should have known what to do. I should already be moving.
Why can’t I move?
I stood there frozen, blinking at where Ava’s ankle was already swelling before I dragged my gaze to her face, her wailing like a muted cry now against the beating of my heart in my ears.
Finally, I looked at Chloe, who had her brows pinched together, her eyes flicking between mine.
Silently, she reached out for me, her hand wrapping around my wrist.
She squeezed it, something in her eyes soft and reassuring.
“It’s okay,” she mouthed.
And then she turned back to my daughter and saved the day.
“Okay, my little angel bug. Look at me. That’s it. Hi,” she said with a smile. “Did you fall off the bars?”
Ava nodded, crying harder.
“Okay, it’s okay,” Chloe said, smoothing a hand over Ava’s hair. “It’s alright. Show me where it hurts.”
Ava pointed to her swelling ankle, her voice garbled when she said, “It popped.”
My heart raced double time, but Chloe just nodded, her hands slowly, softly, coming to the injured area. “That happens sometimes. Can you tell me how bad the pain is. On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”
Ava sniffed, and as if the question calmed her, like it gave her something else to focus on, she leaned back on her palms, taking one long, slow breath.
“I don’t know. Maybe seven?”
“Seven,” Chloe repeated. “You’re so strong. Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to pick you up, okay? We’re going to go get your leg elevated and put some ice on it. We’re going to wrap it up with some fabric I have in the car, to give it some compression. And we’re going to go see the doctor. Okay?”
Ava’s lip wobbled. “Am I going to die?”
I felt like I was living an out-of-body experience as Chloe bit back a laugh, and she swept my daughter’s hair out of her face, framing her cheeks.
“Not today, angel bug. You’re okay. I think you might have sprained your ankle, but we will let the doctor take a look at it. Right now, I want you to know you’re being so brave and so strong. And your dad is here, and so am I, and we’re going to get through this together. Okay?”
Ava sniffed and nodded, and then she was letting Chloe take her in her arms.
Chloe looked back at me after a few feet to make sure I was following.
Just like she said, Chloe did all the steps she should have, repeating them out loud as she performed each task so Ava knew what was happening. She checked in on the pain. She told Ava how good she was being. And before I knew it, we were in the SUV, Ava strapped into her booster seat with her ankle wrapped in fabric holding ice from our cooler in place. She sniffed, her tears dry now, but she was still groaning in pain, wincing and clearly uncomfortable.
Chloe was in the driver seat.
She fired up the engine, turned to me and laid her hand on my forearm. “You good?”
Her words brought me back to life.
I felt everything snap into place, like the fall had knocked me out of orbit and Chloe’s hand on my arm, her words, her eyes were the gravity that brought me back home.
It was the same two words I often asked my teammates when I knew something was off. It was the familiarity of them that had me nodding, that had me squeezing her hand in return before I angled myself over the seat and looked back at Ava.
“How you doing, Pumpkin?”
My throat was raw when I spoke, but it seemed as though hearing my voice gave my daughter even more strength.
“I’m okay, Daddy,” she assured me. “I’m strong.”
“Yes, you are,” I agreed on a weak smile. “Daddy’s here, okay?”
I reached behind me, grabbing her little hand in mine and holding tight. I didn’t let go the entire way to the hospital.
And my eyes never left Chloe.
