Page 58 of Mile High Coach

“Shi-it,” she blows out a breath of air, eyes locked on my duvet. “I guess I just assumed it wasn’t something you cared about, since you never really talked about it. You never even really dated anyone.”

“I know,” I laugh. “It was stupid. I wish I’d prioritized it more. That’s something to keep in mind while you’re young.”

“I’m twenty-seven,” Chrys laughs, tucking a strand of her honey brown hair behind her ear. “And besides, I do not want kids. I’ve known that since I was one myself.”

She reaches up, puts her arm around me. “But I’d be a really, really good aunt.”

The tears come hurtling back stronger, and through the sobs, I say, “I really, really miss mom.”

Chrys laugh-cries, too, leaning into me, reaching for her own tissue from the box. “Me too, Lovie. Me too.”

For the next hour, we talk about mom and cry, then repeat the cycle until I feel puffy, sore, and worn out. And, strangely, better than I ever have just sitting in here and crying on my own.

“So, are you going to do more IVF stuff?” Chrys asks, and the sudden swing in the conversation surprises me enough that it takes me a moment to answer.

“I can’t,” I say, quietly, “there’s no money for it. Not after paying for Dad.”

“Lovie—”

“No, I don’t mind paying for him. I want to—he always took care of us?—”

“Lovie,” she reaches out and takes my hand, effectively quieting me. “Dad appreciates it. And I do, too. God knows I’d never be able to pay for all that myself. Not with what I make on Etsy,” she pauses to laugh, then squeezes my hand. “But it’s not your job. And we can find another way. There’s always another way, and I don’t think it has to involve you sacrificing your life for his. He would never want that, anyway.”

When I say nothing, Chrys adds, “Mom wouldn’t want it, either.”

“But it’s like you said,” I whisper, feeling numb. “You can’t pay for it. And if we don’t have the money, he won’t get his medicine. Then what? I can’t just stand by while he dies, Chrys.”

“And you won’t have to. I guess…I didn’t realize how much this was eating at you, Lovie. I didn’t know the thing about you wanting a baby of your own, and how much it would cost. After the accident, when I moved home, I just thought…I thought you had all this money lying around that you would never use. I figured it made sense. But it doesn’t. Not if you have to make that kind of sacrifice.”

I swallow and swallow, desperately trying to keep from crying again. When I grab my water bottle and take a sip, Chrys reaches for it, and I pass it to her next.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, after a long moment passes. “And maybe we should start trying to figure it out together. Maybe it would help if you let me and Dad in on what’s going on with you.”

She scoots out of the bed, takes a deep breath, lets her hair down and re-clips it up on the top of her head.

“I’m going to go check on Dad,” she says, after scrubbing her hands over her face. When she gets to the door, she pauses, glances back at me. “Lovie?”

“Yeah?”

“You should text him,” Chrys says, cracking a little smile. “I don’t know what Section 2B is, but I imagine it wasn’t super fair to poor Harrison.”

The moment she shuts the door behind her, the tears come again, and I lay on my side, letting them pull me under.

Chapter 26

Harrison

“Hey,” I say, catching the bartender’s attention and pointing to my glass, making the gesture to let him know I’d like another whiskey. He nods, turns to grab someone else a drink first.

I stare at the line of bottles across from me and think about the meeting right after I punched that PR fucker in the face.

Temporary suspension—two days off and an apology, which I have yet to issue and will be dragging my feet on.

As much as Ki doesn’t want to admit it, he didn’t fire me right then and there because he knows the only way the team stands a chance in getting to the Stanley Cup is if I stay on. Even in this hobbled, emotionally-stunted form.

Last night, we swept the Maple Leafs into the fucking trash, owning the ice like it belonged to us for the duration of the game. Deacon, Samir, and I figured out how to realign the lines, giving them back their confidence. We got the rotation on lock.

Samir revealed to me after the game that Lovie had made a suggestion for the new organization, and I’d nodded, trying not to let it show how much that fact sat heavy, right in the middle of my chest.

---