Page 51 of Axe-identally Married
I got numb.
“Because my mind is the problem. Yeah, I officially retired because of a torn labrum, and yes, it was painful as fuck, and I’mstill recovering more than six months post-op. But my mind left the game long before my body was forced out.”
I craved stimulation and novelty. I fell into bad habits, like partying far too much, which was something I’d never done. My father had been strict, and I, his perfect hockey star son, never wanted to disappoint him.
I was twenty-four when I started drinking. And I really liked it.
It helped the days and nights pass, and it lifted my mood, made things funnier, more interesting, easier to deal with.
It quieted my brain.
Dulled the restless buzz and calmed my itchy fingers.
And sometimes, it even silenced the voice in my head telling me that I wasn’t enough, that this life would never be enough.
So I kept drinking. I stayed out late, neglecting my training, my nutrition, and my relationships.
So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that my life went straight to shit.
I didn’t tell her that part. I was embarrassed, and I was still working through it. I hadn’t had a drink since our wedding night in Vegas, and come to think of it, neither had she.
And, more importantly, I hadn’t wanted to. I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d been busy coaching, learning to cook, and working out. I was sleeping better, and overall, my days had seemed to level out.
“You don’t have to give it up,” she said again. “You call the shots. This is your life.”
“You may have a point,” I conceded. Since my injury, I’d assumed that I’d lost hockey forever. But Willa had a point. Coaching was different, but still a lot of fun. Maybe it wasn’t the NHL, but lacing up my skates still sent a thrill through me.
“Of course I do,” she said, lifting her chin. “You could coach or scout or run clinics. Or you could sit on the couch and cheer on your favorite team. You get to decide what your future holds.”
It was easy for her to say. She’d been the valedictorian, the superstar. She had a lifetime of hard work and achievement to fall back on.
“I have no professional skills,” I admitted, my voice thick. It was the first time I’d said it out loud, but the connection Willa and I were building was a solid one, full of trust. I was closer to her than I had ever been to another person, even my brothers. “I have no degree. I’m thirty years old and completely washed up, with no prospects.”
We had long since abandonedJeopardy, paying no attention to the responses to the final question. It was long over by this point, and another game show, one I didn’t recognize, was playing.
“You are so stubborn,” Willa said, her tone stern, no-nonsense. “You are literally the town hero right now. You brought back RiverFest. You know, the event that boosted the economy in a way nothing has in decades? People have hope again. There’s talk of a buyer for the inn, and the old flower shop is being turned into a trendy pizzeria.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
She scowled. “Now you’re pissing me off, Hebert. You have massive potential. You’ve got an entrepreneurial mind and a knack for problem-solving. And you’re a great leader.”
“It’s the height. People always follow the tall guy.”
“Okay, get up.” She stood and yanked on my arm.
When I was on my feet, she tugged again, dragging me toward the front door, and grabbed her snow boots.
Brow furrowed, I shoved my hands into my pockets. “What are you doing?”
“Get bundled up,” she ordered.
“Why?”
“Because you showed me yours, and now I’m showing you mine.”
Chapter Seventeen
Cole
