I want to give those pieces to Rosie. I want to open my clenched fists, show her the pieces with shaky hands, and ask her to take me anyway, to like me for me.
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be Adam Lockwood, Vancouver Viper, all-star goalie. I just want to be…
I just want to fucking be . I want to exist exactly as I am. I want to be a loyal friend, a loving son. I want to be dependable and kind and generous because I like to be, not because I have to be. I want to be a partner, someone’s best friend, the steady hand on their back when they need to be held up, the fingers laced through theirs to walk through life together.
I want to be Adam.
And like it always has, hockey will only get in the way of that.
The patio door opens, sending my heart into a tailspin, pattering against my sternum like heavy rain beating down on a tin roof. My fingers curl into my palms as I take a breath, hoping to slow the racing beat and every erratic thought in my head, and I turn around.
Rosie’s a vision, a flawless beauty bathed in the dusky gold glow of twilight, scattered fragments of lavender and peach reflecting off the water, the twinkly lights illuminating the wonder in her gaze as it skates around the yard, taking it all in.
She takes a hesitant step forward, then another, one hand at her throat, the other clutching the hem of my T-shirt she wears. “Adam, this is gorgeous.”
“Yeah? I, uh…” I rush to the gazebo, scooping up the flowers I’d had sitting in my dining room all day. I offer them to Rosie with a shaky hand. “I got you more peonies. I hope that’s okay.”
“Thank you.” She takes them with a smile and looks at the inflatable mattress set on the grass, topped with pillows and blankets. “And that?”
“I thought, if you wanted to, we could, um…”
She threads her fingers through mine and squeezes, gentle pressure that settles my heartbeat. I try again.
“I’d like to watch the sunset with you while we lie together.”
“I’d really like that.”
My heartbeat skips. “Yeah?”
She nods, pulling me toward the mattress, holding my hand as she sinks down to it, pulling me after her. She curls onto her side, cheek resting on a pillow as she gazes at me while I pull a blanket over us.
“This has been such a perfect day, Adam. I’m so glad we didn’t need to cancel.”
“Connor is always welcome here. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to cancel because you’re with him. I like hanging out with him.”
Her smile is equal parts grateful and sad, so I give her hand a squeeze.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s nice to hear, is all.”
I frown. “That I like spending time with Connor?”
She nods. “Brandon, his dad…well, that’s the reason I picked him up early today. Or I think so, at least. Kids weren’t part of the plan. We weren’t that serious, and he ran. He came back, but when Connor was a few months old he said he didn’t want to do it anymore, that he wasn’t built for it. Disappeared for a while again, came back again.” Her eyes coast to my collarbone as I rub my thumb along hers. “It’s so mentally taxing. You’re either all in or you’re not, you know? Connor deserves to feel loved and wanted all the time. I want to protect him from the people who can’t offer him consistency.”
“I think it’s natural as a parent to want to protect your kids from everything that could hurt them.”
“Then how come his dad is the one inflicting the hurt sometimes?” She looks away, her nose wrinkling as she worries her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s just…Connor was an accident, yes, but he wasn’t a mistake. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. It hurts that, sometimes, it feels like I’m the only one of us who thinks so.”
“That’s a heavy weight to carry, Rosie. I hope one day he realizes how lucky he is to have not only Connor but you, too, for bringing Connor into his life.”
I stroke my hand through her hair, down her back, as she snuggles closer, nudging her leg between mine. She’s given me so much today, pieces of herself she’s handed over willingly while I hold back, and I want to give her something. The obvious answer screams at me from inside my head, but I shake the thought away, burying the guilt as I drag out another day without telling her what my job really is, who I am to everyone but her.
“Can I tell you something?”
She shifts back at my tone, giving me her full attention. “Of course.”
“I never knew my birth mom. I only know that she was young when she had me, and she struggled with addiction. She got clean while pregnant but relapsed when I was only a few days old. She left me with my grandma and never came back.” I run the tip of my finger down Rosie’s arm, an anchor to reality, my steady in this unstable moment. “I don’t remember my grandma, but I know she loved me very much. In every picture I have, we look so happy together. She had a stroke when I was four. My only memory is this vivid one at her funeral, where this woman with dark curls and blue eyes stared at me from the doorway, and instead of coming in, she turned around and left.”
Rosie threads her fingers through mine, softly running her thumb across the back of my hand in a gentle way that lets me know she’s here, she’s listening.
“The thing is, I’ve never been mad at her. I don’t think she could give me the life or love every child deserves, and she knew that. She thought there was somebody better out there for me, and in leaving, she gave that to me. A chance at something better.” I wipe the single tear dripping from Rosie’s eye as she cups my cheek. “When you told me about your parents earlier, how the thought of saying good-bye tears you apart, I wanted to take your hand and say you weren’t alone, because I’d also lost people. But I haven’t felt a loss as deep as yours. Mine is different. People chose to walk away because we weren’t meant for each other. They weren’t meant for me, and there’s a certain peace in knowing that.”
“That doesn’t make your loss any less valid,” Rosie says firmly. “Please don’t undermine anything you’ve gone through because of me.”
“I’m not. The truth is, I got so lucky, and I know it. There’s no pain in my past, not in my memories, at least. But when you talked to me…I almost wanted there to be. I didn’t want you to be alone in feeling yours.”
There’s a softness in Rosie’s gaze, an understanding that pulls us closer, a string knotting. “I don’t need you to take on my pain, Adam. I just need you to sit with me while I feel it. That’s enough for me.” She brushes a curl off my forehead. “Does that make sense?”
“I think so.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“Thank you for sharing your world with me.”
Rosie tucks in closer, the soft inches of her pressed against me bringing me a comfort I didn’t know I needed as the remaining fragments of sunlight disappear behind the trees, stars beginning to burst against the dark skyline.
“You can’t see the stars with your face buried in there, pretty girl.”
She props her chin on my chest, grinning up at me. “I like this view best.”