Page 94 of Rebound
“I’m not the husband you ever expected.” I’ve always known that. I don’t think I deserve Lavinia any more than the men who came before me.
I also know I’ll treat her the way she deserves to be treated. If Lavinia is an idol, I’m her humblest devotee. She’s never going to find anyone who wants her as much as me, and I’ve always been very careful with what’s mine.
A strange look crosses Lavinia’s face and for a second, her eyes shift, looking over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t say that. Come on, I’m freezing. Let’s go in before they eat all the apple pie and we’re left with the lesser cousin, pumpkin.”
Grabbing my hand, she tugs me back towards the house. I look over my shoulder where her eyes had landed and see the edge of the pool house. The same pool house Lavinia and I had disappeared to eighteen years ago, when at sixteen, I asked her if she wanted to leave with me. I never got to hear her reply, though now I’m wondering if the answer would have been yes.
THIRTY
ROMAN
My wedding band presses against my chest under my practice jersey. I’m wearing it on a chain around my neck because I didn’t want to take it off. I definitely got the side eye from Drew when I was putting on my gear, but I don’t care.
I’m not the sentimental type and aside from a few things, there isn’t a lot I carry with me. I’ve never formed attachments, with things or people, because it was the way I grew up.
My house was cold and empty, to say the least. My parents lived there, and both of them were too busy to have time for each other let alone me. I found close families and friendships odd because I didn’t know people can get along like that.
How did people tolerate someone else in their space? How did they find it so easy to co-exist and have meals together and talk about their day? The ten years I lived at home, my parents didn’t even have coffee together let alone a meal.
Here I am, tying myself to another person. Not any person, either. It’s Lavinia. The thought makes me want to run away and also take her with me.
Suddenly, I’m sentimental over a ring because it says that I belong to Lavinia. She chose me. Yes, admittedly, she was drunk at the time, and she also chose Josh, but I’m not going to holdher past mistakes against her. Who cares who she dated in the past when she’s with me now?
The puck whizzes past me and almost on autopilot, I skate after it, stopping it and sending it back across the center line.
“Good to know you’re focused on practice, Maddox,” Coach calls.
“He’s got love on the brain, Coach,” Ford laughs.
“Nah, I haven’t had any coffee because Holden took it all,” I say.
“Blame Ford,” Holden calls from the other end of the rink.
“Traitor!” Ford shouts.
Holden raises both arms. “Vin already figured it out, what do you want me to do about it?”
Things with the guys have been…fine. I walked into the locker room the day after Drew punched expecting him to still be angry. Instead, I found Drew being his usual quiet self. Not eager to befriend me, but also not treating me as the enemy.
I’m suddenly getting passes during the games and at practice because I’m not a body on the ice. The way I see it, I was right. Just by being in Lavinia’s orbit, I’m not persona non grata.
“Not admit it,” Ford says.
“You’re the mastermind, huh?” I skate up next to Ford.
“You can’t blame me. I’m just making sure Lavinia’s safe.”
I shrug, though I doubt he can see it under the pads that cover my shoulder. “She’s also the girl I’ve known my whole life. Her relationship to the men in her life’s not the most valuable thing about her and frankly, it’s the last thing I think about when I think of her.”
It’s the same thing I told Mr. Callahan, and I’m saying it again because it’s true. I find great, possessive enjoyment in thinking of Lavinia as my wife, but if someone were to refer to her as my wife, I’ll be the first person to tell them no.
She’s Lavinia Callahan, Olympic medalist, first and always. She’s worked her whole life to prove her worth as a hockey player and a female athlete, on every stage. There’s no fucking way I’m going to stand by and let someone call her Aiden Callahan’s daughter, or Andrew Callahan’s sister, or Roman Maddox’s wife. This woman is a legend, and she deserves to be treated as such.
Under his helmet, I feel Ford’s eyes focus on me. They’re a clear, almost translucent grey and right now, they’re looking at me with a mix of respect, confusion, and distrust.
“How can you be a complete asshole and say shit like that?”
“It was a shock to me as well,” Drew says, skating behind us.
