Baden sits up a little straighter and crosses his forearms on the table to lean forward. “Will I walk again without these braces and crutches? Absolutely. Will I put on a pair of skates and glide around the ice? You bet. Will I have the reflexes and dexterity to play professional hockey? It’s a one-in-a-million shot, Riggs, and I’m usually not a gambling man.”
“You’re not even going to try for that one-in-a-million shot?” I ask. Because honestly, there is some benefit in accepting what the future holds.
Baden grins at me. “Of course, I’m going for that one-in-a-million shot. Going to continue to work my ass off. But I also know that it’s not likely to happen, and I’ve come to terms with it. If it doesn’t happen, it’s not going to be because of my lack of trying. It’s simply going to be that my body will have reached a limit I can’t push past. And if that happens, I’m okay with it.”
I study my friend across the table, someone who wasn’t my friend a month and a half ago. But I am amazed by the peace he seems to have found. “Do you regret it?”
Baden blinks at me in surprise. “Saving that woman?”
I nod. Because Baden has been hailed as a hero—saving a woman’s life and most likely terrible degradation of her body—at a significant cost to himself.
“I regret it every damn day,” Baden says truthfully, and once again I blink in surprise. I had not expected that level of honesty. But then he shakes his head and smiles meaningfully. “But every damn day, I don’t regret it either. Those moments of regret are fleeting and only a product of when I might be feeling sorry for myself. It’s bound to happen. So if you ask me in totality, I would do the same thing again knowing what I know now. But I’m human… and there are times when I wish I hadn’t.”
I don’t believe in my entire life I’ve ever been subjected to such brutal transparency, nor have I ever respected anyone more. “I’m only going to say this once, and if you ever repeat it, I’ll deny it, but you are kind of an amazing fucking guy, Baden.”
Baden waves his hand, an exaggerated motion of shyness. “Oh, stop it… you’re embarrassing me.”
We laugh, because it’s funny, and also to shake off the heaviness of the conversation.
“Enough about me,” Baden drawls, settling back into his chair. “What’s been going on with you?”
“Not much. I took Janelle to a concert night before last. Some pop princess I’ve never heard of. It was torture, but she had a great time.”
“You’re a good brother,” Baden says.
I fill him in on how Janelle has been doing, particularly with her new school. She seems to have blossomed and is finally living with some true happiness. She still works at Clarke’s store in the afternoons and stays with Veronica when I’m on road trips.
And the mere thought of Veronica has my brain focusing on her, which happens more than I care to admit. Right now, I can’t help but ponder the fact that I’m going to her place tonight. It’s been three weeks since I fucked her on her dining room table, and we’re hooking up every chance we get.
The nature of our relationship has changed in that I don’t need provocation to want to have sex with her. She doesn’t need me to insult her to get turned on. We’ve mutually agreed we like being in bed together, so we’re going with it.
Sometimes I’ll go to her house after a game rather than go out with the guys. Sometimes I’ll go to her place as soon as I get off the plane from a road trip, if she’s available. Most often, our hookups are during the day when she has a break from school and I don’t have practice. This allows me to keep my evenings free for my sister.
It’s never been more than a fuck.
Well, that’s not exactly true.
It started out that way, but admittedly, it’s changed into something different. More often than not, I linger after we get off. We might talk or watch TV or have food. On one particular occasion when Janelle had a sleepover at Dahlia’s, I stayed all night. Not a lot of sleep happened, but there was stuff in between.
Surprisingly easy banter. Genuine talk. Nothing too deep or personal, but we never struggle to find things to discuss. I hadn’t meant to stay the entire night, but weirdly, at no point did I want to make an escape. It just felt right to fall asleep with her in my arms. She even made me breakfast the next day.
It’s always a great time with her, but the pisser of it is—I didn’t like the way I felt after I left. I questioned my beliefs about my inability to have a steady relationship and wondered if I was ready for these changes.
Maybe I should end it.
I’m starting to have feelings for her, and that’s not something I’ve ever allowed in my life. I simply don’t have room for it, nor do I believe it’s worth the effort.
It’s so fucking confusing, I even tried to pick a fight—not one that would provoke sex but perhaps get her to break it off with me out of anger. I made a caustic remark about her lavish penthouse in Phoenix. “You’ve done well for yourself after your divorce.” My inference was she didn’t earn what she had.
Her eyes flashed with anger, just as I thought they would.
Veronica retorted hotly, “I would rather live in a tent in the middle of a garbage dump and have a healthy, happy, loving relationship than go through what I did with my ex-husband.”
I was taken aback. I mean, I knew deep in my heart Veronica was not in it for the money. And I was trying to provoke her so maybe she would end things because I clearly don’t have the guts to walk away.
What I didn’t count on was the fact that I felt empathy for her, which was very confusing to me since what she went through is exactly what I would expect out of a relationship. After all, it’s the only thing I’ve ever witnessed from my mom and her carousel of men, which included my father and two stepfathers.
Veronica didn’t sound bitter, merely forthright, when she said, “My ex-husband taught me that there is no such thing as true love.”
And I couldn’t agree more.
In that, we actually have something deeply in common. It’s why when Veronica didn’t kick me out after that, I was relieved. We are both equally averse to serious commitment and the notion of happiness emanating from a relationship. With that commonality, we can continue on with the way we’ve been.
“Dude,” Baden says, rapping his knuckles on the table. My eyes focus on him, and he asks, “Where did you go?”
“What do you mean?” I blink away the thoughts of Veronica, hating my daydreams of her.
“You were somewhere other than here.” Baden gives me a pointed look. “Am I that boring?”
He’s not at all boring. In fact, Baden is one of the easiest people to talk to. I know part of it is because while he’s a member of the team, he’s not out there in the same battle with me on the ice. For some reason, not having that level of connection makes it easier for me to open up to him. Conversely, it’s still hard for me to open up to my actual linemates.
And now, an opportunity has presented itself. A chance for me to share one of my problems with another human being who will give me honest feedback, and while he might judge, his advice has proven sound before.
I decide to take the chance.