Page 129 of Lucky Shot
I get another one of his soft huffs.
“Have you talked to someone about it?”
“Kind of,” he says, then falls quiet. A few seconds later, he adds, “The team doctor thinks I have health anxiety. After my injury last year and the stuff with my dad…”
I wrap myself around him. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
“I thought it was an age thing.” One side of his mouth lifts. “As I’m getting older, realizing my own mortality or something. My mom died young—in her forties, and I guess it’s just hit me recently.”
“You’ve dealt with a lot. I think it’s perfectly normal to have a heightened fear after all that.”
“It’s not just about me. I want to be around a long time, don’t get me wrong, but the thought of leaving Aidan.” His throat works with a swallow.
“You’re a good father.”
He’s quiet again, and I let the silence stretch out, making room for his thoughts and feelings, but he seems lost in his own head.
“What are you going to do?”
He blinks and then settles his stare back on me. “For starters, I’m going to carry you back up to the house to my bed.”
I swat at his chest lightly. “That is not what I meant.”
One corner of his mouth lifts in a small smirk. “I have an appointment with the psychologist next week.”
“Have you considered talking to your dad?”
Nick’s brows furrow.
“He’s been through a lot too. It might give you some perspective.”
He lifts his head off the blanket and presses his mouth to mine, and any further conversation dies off as he kisses me like it’s the only thing he wants in the whole world. Maybe it is, but I’m too chicken to ask.
Later, when I wake up alone in his bed, I check the time and then head downstairs to find him. He’s exactly where I expected, on the back porch, lying on the wicker couch with his eyes closed. He looks asleep but I doubt he is.
“It’s better since you got here.” Mike talks softly, but he still startles me. He’s in his robe standing in the kitchen with a mug in one hand.
Instead of walking outside, I step into the kitchen with him. He gets down a second mug and I nod.
“I’m worried about him,” I admit as he pours the coffee.
“He’ll be all right. That incident in the spring was really hard on him.” He tilts his head to one side. “I don’t know how he doesit, but he’s tough. Tougher than I ever was. Hockey is a brutal sport.”
“Did you play?” I ask.
“Oh no.” Mike hands over the mug to me. “I grew up on a farm. From an early age I had to help anytime I wasn’t at school. Didn’t leave a lot of room for sports. His mom was the one that got him into skates at a young age. She grew up in Northern Michigan, playing hockey with her three brothers.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say, then think about all the other tidbits I haven’t learned yet. And I guess now I never will.
Mike reaches out and squeezes my forearm. “You’ve been good for him in more ways than one.”
“I hope so.”
“Will I be seeing more of you?” I know exactly what he’s asking, even though he doesn’t outright ask if Nick and I will be continuing our relationship.
“I don’t think so.”
He nods slowly. “Pity.”
