Page 97 of From Ice to Grace
I close my laptop and push back from the table, making my way over to him, just like I’ve done every day since we’ve been here. After he gets back from his work-out, he settles in to watch game tapes for an hour or two. I’ve been at his side every night this week, after which we prepare dinner together and then go off to our separate rooms. We’ve fallen into this comfortable little routine and it’ll change again once he can start playing again.
“So was it just EJ and Lindgren you saw today?” I ask, settling in right next to him. The couch is big enough for three hockey players to fit in between us…but as the week has progressed, the distance between us has quietly disappeared.
“Are you asking me if I saw your ex?” he asks simply.
I blink, caught. We haven’t really spoken about Axel being here, or what it means for either of us. I haven’t gone down to the practice facility, which is new for me. I haven’t even watched any of EJ’s games since I married Declan. Usually I wouldn’t miss it. I’d be right there, wearing his jersey and supporting him.
“I guess I am.” I look at him, wondering how he feels about this whole situation.
This past week I’ve been calm…surprisingly so. I didn’t feel like avoidance or hiding. Instead it feels like I’m waiting. I’ve been praying and I trust that God will put me in front of Axel when the time is right and in that moment, He’ll be right there with me.
He turns on the television, switching to the game before looking at me. “I didn’t see him,” he says, his voice tense, his dark eyes sparking with anger. “If I did, you’d know about it.”
“Declan…”
“He hurt you,” he says simply, as if that explains everything. “He doesn’t deserve to come off scot-free.”
As much as I like the idea of Declan standing up for me, the thought of him getting into more trouble overrides that in spades.
“You can’t touch him, Declan.”
His jaw tightens. “Why not? He deserves more than what EJ gave him.”
“I know,” I say softly. “And I appreciate that. But your suspension ends tomorrow. You can’t throw away your spot on the team for this. He’s not worth it.”
He sighs, running his hand over his face. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth.
Quiet settles between us, his knee bouncing as the commentators on the screen start talking about the latest line switches and the newest player acquired by the Habs. Then, Declan lifts his arm, a quiet invitation to lean into him.
There’s no denying the pull I feel toward Declan. He’s made it clear that he feels it too. We’ve slipped into a comfortable place where we’re allowed to be honest without fear of judgement. A space where I can lean on him, and he can hold me without either of us expecting more than the other can give. A quiet agreement to be what the other needs.
I lean into him, his arm settling around me. His warmth seeps into me, his breathing slow and steady.
“You’re going to watch me play tomorrow?” he asks after a long moment, his lips brushing against my hair, and I can feel a smile on his mouth. “Never thought I’d see the day Avah Johansson would show up for me at a game.”
“Someone has to watch, otherwise who’s going to keep track of all your turnovers?” I ask, tilting my head up at him.
His laugh is low, warm and it vibrates through me. “I don’t make turnovers,” he says.
“Oh yes, you do,” I correct him. “Last year there was one against the Leafs, and it cost you the game. And it’s Avah Murphy now, remember?”
I’m not sure why I corrected him. Being Avah Murphy on paper is definitely different than being Avah Murphy in real life. One is for the purpose of getting my green card…the other is being his wife in every sense of the word. I’m not sure either of us is ready for that.
When he looks down at me, his expression softens.
“I don’t expect you to come if you’re going to be uncomfortable, Snowflake.”
I sigh with relief. Hearing him say that, somehow lifts an invisible weight off my chest…and it makes me want to go even more.
“I want to be there,” I answer honestly. “I guess I have to face Axel at some point. I’ve spent an entire year running from him and our past. It’s time to move forward.”
Declan presses a light kiss into my hair, humming in agreement before turning back to the game.
We haven’t kissed since our wedding day. And I can’t say I haven’t wanted to.
It hasn’t been necessary with our media appearances, although we’ve been close during those. I guess that's why it feels normal to sit next to him, pressed into his side, and have it feel like this is where I belong.
His phone vibrates in his pocket. He takes it out, glances at the screen before turning the phone to show me.
