Page 82 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

He gave a faint snort of laughter. “Girls. He had a bunch of questions about girls.”

I smiled. Noah had certainly asked the right person about that.

“And he was worried about his parents and his little sister. I couldn’t tell if he was worried about how they’d get along without him—or sad that they would get along without him.”

There was another long silence. For once, Chris’s face was easy to read. His face was happy as he relived his conversations with Noah, then changed to a scowl as he remembered the reality.

“I mean, I knew. Noah had no energy. The few times he was awake, he got tired so fast. Even talking was getting to be an effort. He apologized to me, and I told him not to worry. ‘Short shifts, bud. Give her all you got, then rest. That’s how we do it on the ice.’ That stupid cliché was one of the last things I said to him.”

“Chris, it’s not stupid. It’s exactly the right thing to say. You’re so good at that.”

He brushed off the compliment. “It’s not that I wanted to be there when... well, you know. That’s a time for his real family. His grandparents came. But it’s only... the waste.” His voice cracked. “We weren’t done talking....”

His eyes glistened, and then a tear ran down his cheek. I hugged him tighter. “Oh Chris. Don’t focus on what didn’t happen; think about all the times you did have together. It meant a lot to Noah, but it also meant so much to you.”

“I never got that before tonight—how he inspired me too. So I never told him. I tried to keep things light....” He began to cry harder, and he buried his head in his hands. “Sorry. I’m being a wuss.”

“Don’t apologize. You’d be a monster if you didn’t feel anything right now.”

He looked up with reddened eyes. “I know this is a huge ask, but I really don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

35

Waking Up the Richardsons

Chris

I wokeup when something soft brushed against my face. Over and over. I opened my eyes, and all I saw was cat butt and tail. Some cat was lying on top of me, and he weighed a ton. I could hardly breathe.

“Jesus, fatso, get off me.” I nudged him. He turned and gave me a stink eye but jumped off the bed.

Where the hell was I? It looked like I had accidentally fallen asleep in a kid’s room. There were photos and papers tacked up on all the walls and books and knick-knacks on every shelf. But everything looked worn and dated. Then I realized the woman sleeping beside me was Amanda. Finally, I got to wake up beside her. It wasn’t like some fantasy scene though. She was wearing old flannel pajamas and her hair was spiking out everywhere. Yet the utter normalness of Amanda was a huge comfort to me. She was real and solid.

Everything about Noah came flooding back into my head. Last night, I had stumbled out of the Mansion and sat in my car for ages. I realized that I couldn’t drive in the state I was in. That’s when I had come straight to Amanda. I needed her, and she took me in—even to her bed. She was giving when I needed her.

I tried not to think about Noah. This was how I dealt with emotional crap—I pushed things back until their intensity dulled. I looked around her room instead. If this was my chance to see inside Amanda’s head, it was a pretty crowded place. A collection of china unicorns. Lots of cat photos, naturally. Did she really like the Spice Girls? I played junior with a guy who liked them, and we used to tease the shit out of him.

And wait, what was this? My poster! That was from my third season in the NHL. Proof that Amanda had spent time in this very bed, thinking about me. That was kind of hot. Did she maybe touch herself when she looked at the poster? I couldn’t help but grin.

“Do you always wake up happy?” Amanda asked. Clearly, she was going at a hundred percent from the time she opened her eyes.

“Well, you’d know if you didn’t run out at the crack of dawn like a vampire or something. But it’s always nice to wake up and see a good-looking face like that.” I motioned towards my poster. “I guess it’s something you’re used to.”

She groaned and buried her head in the pillow. Her voice was muffled. “I should have torn that down the minute I actually met you.”

“Why? It’s probably the biggest treasure of your teen years. After all, it’s autographed and everything.” I could see my Sharpie scrawl in the corner. “Did I make it out to you?”

Amanda turned back over. “No. I always wished you had. Back then, I was too shy to go and line up. My father got the poster for me somehow.”

Knowing this family, he probably sponsored a game night or something. I should have at least personalized it. “I could sign it now.To Amanda, the finest woman I’ve ever worked under, or how about,To Amanda, the only remaining member of my fan club?” I laughed. But really, that would be just fine with me. It didn’t matter if I had zero fans or I only appealed to people’s moms. Because something real was more important than a thousand fake fans.

“You mock my poster. But I like it. It reminds me of the things I liked about you before I knew you.”

“That’s kind of a backhanded compliment. You don’t like me now that you know me?”

“Yes. I don’t like you so much that I let you spend the night in my bed—in a bedroom filled with embarrassing posters.”

We both laughed. I snuck my hand under the covers and held her hand.

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