Because the only thing we haven’t talked about?
Us.
And the worry about that has settled over me like a weighted blanket. I’ve fallen for her. I can’t picture my future without her, or maybe I just don’t want to.
Owen and Becca have just returned from their honeymoon in Greece, and he’s been bombarding the guys on the team with text messages and photos from their trip. So, when my phone chimes in the other room, I expect it to be another dozen or so pics of idyllic little white buildings perched above turquoise water.
“We get it, dude. Greece was incredible. Blah, blah, blah,” I mutter as I make my way into the kitchen to retrieve my cell phone from the counter.
But the notification isn’t for a text from Owen. It’s a voice mail from Coach Dodd.
Thirty minutes later, I’m lingering in the doorway to his office. He spots me and waves me inside.
“Thanks for coming over on short notice. I prefer to do these things in person. We’re a family, ya know?” Coach says, eyeing me from over the rims of his wire-framed glasses once I enter his top-floor office.
“Sure, no problem.” I still don’t know why I’m here. His voice mail was cryptic.
“Sit down.”
I lower myself into the black leather chair in front of his desk, and wipe my sweating palms on the front of my pants.
He lets out a deep exhale and removes his glasses, tucking them into the front pocket of his shirt. “So, I have news, kid.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. Part of me knew this conversation was coming. Call it a gut instinct or something, but I knew my time with the Ice Hawks couldn’t last, as much as I wanted it to. I have no idea if I’m being sent down to the affiliate team or what his news is, but the expression on his face and his somber tone say enough. It’s not good news.
“As of this morning, we’ve placed you on waivers. The other teams in the league have twenty-four hours to either make a claim and pick you up, or you’ll be moving down.”
I open my mouth to respond, but realize I have no fucking clue what to say. It means my days as a Seattle Ice Hawk are over, at least for now. My time playing with the team I love, in the city that’s become my home, with the guys who have become my best friends, is done. It stings much more than I thought it would.
But Coach goes right on like he didn’t just change my entire world. “It’s just business. You’ve done well for yourself, and I know you have a future in the league. Try not to sweat it, okay?”
“I, um . . .” I clear my throat. “Thanks for the opportunity.” It sounds like something you’re supposed to say, and I add, “I’ve loved being a part of this organization.” That part is true.
He holds up one hand. “I know. It’s a lot to take in, and probably unexpected, but there’s something else.”
Apparently, when word to the league went out that my contract was up for grabs, he got a call right away. From a coach he’s friends with, and somewhere he thinks I’d be very happy, but he doesn’t want to say where just yet. He goes over the fine print on how this all works, but I barely hear a thing.
“Any thoughts?” he asks.
“I need to speak to my wife.”
“Oh, so you are married. The rumors were true then?” His mouth lifts with an amused expression.
“You . . . heard?” I scratch my temple.
Coach Dodd nods. “Of course I heard. I just maintain a very strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it comes to my players’ personal lives.”
I nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“But this marriage . . . I take it it’s not the Vegas-quickie-ceremony joke I heard it made out to be?”
I shift, uncomfortably. “No, sir. It’s the real deal.”
“Is she pregnant?”
God, he’s about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. “No.” At least, not that I know of, but we have been having a lot of sex, and I wouldn’t hate it if she was.
He nods. “Understood. Well, then speak with your wife, and we’ll talk through all the details in the morning. It’s all going to work out fine, okay, kid?”
“Thanks, Coach.”
The only thing running through my brain on the drive home is Aubree.
Worst-case scenario is I’m not picked up by another team and have to move to Wisconsin to take a pay cut and play for our affiliate team. Best-case scenario? Well, there is no best case, because I’m going to have to move. That much is certain. And I have no idea if Aubree will quit her job and come with me, or if she’ll finally just say fuck it to this whole experiment and walk away from our marriage for good.
When I pull into my building’s parking garage, I can’t make myself get out of the car and go inside. Instead, I pull out my phone and dial Aubree while a knot forms in my stomach.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey,” she says casually. “What’s up?”
“Can I, ah, talk to you?”
“Um . . .” She hesitates. “Now? Can it wait until tonight? I’ve got a couple of documents I need to finish up.”
“What about lunch?” I ask, looking at the clock on my dash. “Have you eaten yet?”
She must sense the worry in my voice because she concedes. “I haven’t. Do you want to come by the office? We can grab something quick and talk then.”
“Yeah. I’ll be there in . . . thirty, depending on traffic. That work?”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”
The drive to Aubree’s office is fairly simple, and though I’ve never been here before, I do know the area well. I find parking behind the two-story concrete block building and then let myself inside. There’s a reception desk, but no one working behind it, so I wander around until I find her office. Her name is etched into a silver placard outside the door.
Aubree Derrick.
I pause, staring at it for a second.
We had the discussion once about if she’d ever want to change her name, not because I would ever pressure her to do so, but because I was genuinely curious about her stance on it. She said that as a modern, independent woman, she couldn’t really ever see herself taking a man’s name. I told her that was fine with me, but as I stare at this little sign, I find myself wishing it read AUBREE COVINGTON. And maybe if it did, everything wouldn’t have to fall apart.
“Oh! You’re here,” Aubree says, rising to her feet and coming around the side of the L-shaped desk that takes up most of her small office. “Traffic must have been clear,” she says, lifting up on her toes to press a quick kiss to my lips.
“Yeah, it was nonexistent.”
I take her left hand, giving it a squeeze, and run my fingers along her wedding ring.
“Are you okay?” She meets my eyes with a look of concern. “You sounded a little . . . stressed on the phone.”
I nod. “Yeah, but something’s come up.”
She licks her lips. “Something good or something bad?”
I consider her question. “I don’t know yet.”
An older man dressed in khakis with hair graying at his temples steps out of a nearby office and into the hall. He must have overheard us talking and has come out to investigate.
“Oh, David,” Aubree says, appearing a little flustered. “This is Landon.” She gestures toward me. “And this is my boss, David Stone.”