Olivia had called Emerson as soon as she’d dropped Anders off at his house. He had to head for a midmorning skate at the training center. From then on, he would be in game day mode. Olivia had decided it had been too long since she’d spent an afternoon with her sister.
“Somehow, all of our lives have become wrapped up in the distillery. We used to spend time together out of it. I had time this afternoon before the game, and my first thought was to spend it with you.”
Emerson stopped and pulled Olivia in for a vigorous hug that was over almost as quickly as it had started. “You’re right. We’ve fallen into so many ruts and routines. I’m glad you called.”
“You didn’t have plans with Connor?”
Her sister shook her head. “Oh god, no. He’s doing some ridiculous one hundred kilometer bike race around Golden Gate Canyon. He’ll be back for the game later, though.”
Anders had got them all tickets. “To answer your other question . . . yes, the trip to Vail is why we’re here in the middle of the Meininger’s art supply store. I was sitting looking at those great views, and I had all my work spread out all over the place, and I found myself sketching on the back of the events hall refurbishment budget. I haven’t wanted to paint in a while, but for a moment that was all I wanted to do.”
Emerson took her hand. “It’s lovely to see. You’re such a good artist, it would be a shame if you never painted again.” Emerson grabbed a basket and they followed the signs to the painting aisle. “Do you know what you are looking for?”
“It’s been a while since I opened my old paints. And, I don’t know, I kind of feel like I need to start again. Well, not totally. My brushes and things are fine. But new watercolors and acrylics, for sure. New pens for sketching. Definitely some cold pressed paper. Perhaps some bigger canvases.”
Emerson looked at the basket she carried and handed it to Olivia. “I think we’re going to need to get a cart. You start looking and I’ll go get one.”
Olivia puttered down the shelves, weighing up the pros and cons of the different watercolors. She’d just decided on the Sennelier half-pan set of forty-eight colors, when Emerson turned into the aisle with the cart.
“Happy birthday,” she said, as she came to a stop.
“It’s not my birthday until the end of the month.”
“Yeah, well. I called Jake, told him why we were here, and told him we were getting you art supplies for your birthday.” Emerson handed over a small envelope. “We just got you a gift card for two hundred dollars.”
Olivia looked from Emerson to the card and then back to her sister, who simply shrugged. “I can’t take it back, Liv. You either spend it, or Connor is going to have to take up clay modeling or something.”
Olivia laughed at the thought. “That’s really generous of you two. I don’t know what to say.”
“Thanks will do. Apology accepted, maybe.”
“Apology accepted?”
“Look at you, Liv. You look happy. You’re wearing bright colors again. We’re in an art store. You were compelled to sketch. Anders has been able to do in a little over two months what Jake and I have been failing miserably at for nearly nine months. Our way sucked. I’m really sorry.”
Contrition was etched across Emerson’s face.
“You didn’t suck, Emerson. And even when I felt like shaking you, I knew you were only ever coming from a place of concern, and a desire to see me healthy again.”
Her sister ran her fingers across a large artist’s pad. “I should have stopped pushing, though.”
It wasn’t the spot Olivia would have chosen for this soul bearing, but she knew they needed to move through it. “So, why did you keep pushing?”
Emerson looked up to the ceiling and sighed. “I don’t know. I felt like I was letting Mom down. Or Dad down. Or you down, by not taking care of you properly. I should have been able to fix it . . . or something.”
Olivia stared at Emerson for a moment. “You know that’s stupid, right?”
Emerson huffed. “Not to me it wasn’t. I would have switched places with you in a heartbeat.”
They all had their baggage. And not just from the distillery being damaged. It went back much further than that. “It was never your job to raise us. And it definitely wasn’t your job to fix me. And while I appreciate you trying for all the reasons I understand, you’re right. It’s time to stop pushing and focus on yourself.”
“Connor told me the same thing.”
“He did?”
Emerson looked Olivia in the eye. “He did. I went home the day we argued, the day you said Anders was in the parking lot. I told Connor I was worried about you and this new relationship. He said the same as you. It’s just . . . if I’m not looking out for you and Jake, I guess I don’t know who I am, really.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to accept you don’t need to worry about us that way. Maybe it’s time for you to focus on yourself for a while and figure that out.”
“But who will I be then, Liv?”
Olivia reached for her sister and hugged her, the basket banging into their hips. “You will still be you,” Olivia said. “Just like I’m still me. Except we’re not. We can never be those girls who have both parents again.”
“I know, Liv.” Emerson’s muffled voice sounded weary. “I just wish I could have helped you more than I did.” She took a step back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that Olivia could see Emerson was trying to hold back.
“You did the best you could, Em. And now, it’s time for you to let that be enough. To make peace with it. I am.”
“I barely know Anders, but I love him. I love him because of everything I said before. I love you in red. I love that you put a two-hundred-dollar tray of watercolors in your basket. I love that we are standing in a paint aisle having this heartfelt conversation. Why don’t you come over for dinner with Anders next week? The four of us can get together. The two of them can talk protein shakes and enzyme levels or training regimens or whatever, and you and I can drink one too many gin martinis.”
Olivia laughed. “I think that’s a spectacular idea. Anders barely drinks because of hockey season. I feel like letting loose would be fun.”
“Connor slurps on these packs of unidentifiable Jell-O-looking substances while he’s doing his big bike rides and training runs. It’s gross.”
“There is this basket in Anders’s laundry room full of sweaty workout clothes.”
“Connor pees in the lake when he’s doing an Ironman.”
“Anders won’t even talk about sex on game day.”
“Oh, that’s a good one. You win.”
“Something to do with his cup he has to wear.”
Emerson grinned. “Well, better he keep those bits in working order.”
Olivia snorted. “Trust me, those bits work just fine.”
The two of them burst into laughter in the aisle. Two high-school-aged kids walked by and gave them an odd look.
“Thank you. For inviting me to come to the store with you, Liv. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the two of us hanging out.”
“I’ve missed you too. When we’re done here, should we grab an early dinner with Jake and head to the game?”
“That sounds perfect. Are you heading home with Anders after the game?”
“He gave me a key so I could let myself in.”
Emerson sighed. “I’m happy for you, Liv. Truly. I found something so special with Connor, and while I was worried about you, it just occurred to me that maybe that unconditional love and happiness from someone like Anders was exactly what you needed all along. But I think more than that, I think maybe you needed to realize you were entitled to that kind of happiness.”
Olivia let Emerson’s words settle through her. She did deserve happiness. Somewhere in the mental accounting of what had happened, she’d ended up with a balance sheet that showed how much she felt she owed. What she owed to her family. What she owed to the distillery. What she owed to her father. With suc
h an emotional debt, she’d not left space for herself.
“Thanks, Em.”
Emerson nodded, then let out a breath. “Now, what else do you need? Paper, right?”
By the time they left the store, her cart was heavy with over four hundred dollars of art supplies. But her heart was lighter than it had ever been.
12
“Good luck, tonight,” Liv said, pulling on her jacket. “Sorry I can’t make it.”
Anders watched as she lifted her hair from beneath the collar of her black wool coat. It was the first time one of her distillery book clubs fell on the same night as a game. “We’ll do our best. Carolina is always fun to play against.”
Liv raised an eyebrow. “Your definition of fun and mine are clearly different.”
He grinned and reached for her hand, tugging her to him. “I don’t know.” He pressed his lips to hers softly. “You liked my kind of fun last night.”
“If you’re talking about what happened in bed, I did. If you’re talking about what happened in your gym, I may never forgive you.”
He slid his hands around her butt and squeezed it gently. “Yeah, but your ass feels great after all those squats and lunges.”
Olivia laughed. “True. It does. Are you looking forward to your things arriving?”
He let his hands slide to her hips. “My car, for sure.” The Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio would be useless on the severe winter roads, but a bit of light snow could be handled with a set of snow tires and a few bags of sand in the trunk of the rear-wheel drive sports car. At least, that’s what they assured at the Alfa Romeo dealership. “And the rest of my clothes would be nice too.”
In the forty-eight hours since he’d left the chalet with Olivia, he’d put a lot of things into action, mainly making arrangements for his belongings to be packed up and shipped to Denver. If he was going to stick around until the start of training camp, he might as well bring his things from Phoenix.
Liv kissed him chastely. “You’re almost too goddamn handsome to leave. But I have to go. See you later.”
He waited until she’d pulled away before he grabbed his bag and got into his rental car to head to the training center. As he approached the center, his phone rang.
“Anders, it’s Kelvin.”
Anders could just make out what his agent was saying over the crackle of static.
“Kelvin. What’ve you got?” Anders looked in the rearview mirror and pulled over. He was early for training anyway and the call would disconnect once he was buried under the concrete of the training facility’s parking garage.
“Word on the street is New York has raised a flag. Don’t think it’s a showstopper, but they’re watching your play carefully and not seeing the same kind of productivity you had in Phoenix.”
He ignored the way his gut tensed. “Yeah? Are they saying why?”
“Not really. It’s more questions, really. Are you finding it hard to settle somewhere else? Can you only thrive in a lineup like Phoenix, with older, more tenured players around you? Will you fit in their younger rebuilding lineup?”
“Fuck,” Anders muttered under his breath. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
“You got any insight into what’s happening?”
Anders thought about his conversation with Olivia and decided to be honest with Kelvin. “I haven’t settled. I just didn’t want to be here. I was supposed to get over the line with Phoenix then focus on the next new place. I had my heart set that the next city I’d play for would be for one of my preferred teams. Combine that with the perfect storm of being the team with a target on our back, given our conference standing, and the Rush being down their two tried-and-tested centers. It’s just not come together. I’ll fix it.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, something unusual for Kelvin. “That’s not the answer I expected.”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“Anders, that might be the longest sentence you’ve said to me in conversation, man.”
Anders frowned. “I’m not that much of an introvert.”
Kelvin chuckled. “No. It’s not that. But you are usually really . . . measured. Cautious. It was a surprise to hear something so genuinely honest.”
Anders was affronted. “Are you saying I lie?”
“No, Anders. But often, it was someone else’s fault. You’d blame your teammates’ speed or misstep. I like that you’re owning this.”
Is that what he’d done? Had he blamed everyone else for holding him back? In a brutally honest moment of reflection, he realized he had. Phoenix had held him back. Denver was holding him back. And the fact that it tied into Olivia’s observation that he was so busy playing in the future, not the present, was the kicker. He wasn’t stepping up and being the franchise player. He was being an asshole.
A fucking asshole.
He rubbed his hand back and forth across his forehead. He’d been a shit teammate. No wonder the guys in Phoenix had been indifferent to him leaving. The good he did on the ice was offset by his behavior off it.
The only behavior he would worry about from now on was his own.
“You okay, Anders? I asked you what reason you want me to plant to reassure New York?”
Anders lowered the car window and took a deep breath of cold air to clear his head. He understood the league’s desire to control free agent conversations by giving teams a limited window postseason to make offers, but he wished they could all just be more upfront. It was all rumors and inside connections, and Kelvin was well-connected to every channel.
“Plant what I told you. It’s honest and it’s the truth. It happened. I’ll fix it. And it won’t happen if I move to New York because it’s the place I really want to be.”
“Fair enough. Better than saying it’s an injury anyway. I’ll soften it by saying it’s my observation, not yours. It’ll be fine. But to be certain, it might be worth making this last dozen or so games count before the playoffs.”
With that, Kelvin hung up.
Anders placed his elbow on the open window and stared out at the world passing by. A mom pushed a stroller containing a happy-looking kid in a thick coat and yellow boots. A young guy walking his dog. He wondered how settled they felt in their own lives. Did they feel driven and accomplished? Were they happy with who they were? Or inside were they dying a little, crying out for someone to notice?
Thoughts overwhelmed him and he felt as buffeted by them as he did after playing a tough team on a bad day.
One thought began to surface above all others. He’d been attempting to control his external environment rather than address his uncertainty internally. By attempting to ensure he had perfect conditions to play, he’d alienated those who would have helped him play perfectly.
But could he just release the need to control? What would happen if he did?
His head said it would be a fucking disaster. But his heart . . .
He’d built a world around being alone. From childhood, when they’d moved from city to city while his dad built his coaching career. And once he’d made the major leagues, it had been the same thing. But by then, he hadn’t seen the value in making friends, only to have to leave them behind. And the people he had trusted. Ines? How had she repaid him?
Anders glanced at the clock and realized he needed to get to practice. Only, he wasn’t quite sure how to go on the ice with his teammates and be anything other than the teammate they’d known the day before.
Fuck, it would be a wonder if he could still skate.
Olivia’s epiphany had ripped him wide open, and he didn’t know how to start stitching himself back together.
Anders debated calling Olivia but instead started the car. While Olivia was the impetus, she wasn’t the cure. He knew who he had to start with. He called his brother.
Half an hour later, Karl met him in the training facility’s restaurant.
“Why do you look like you got hit in the face by the Zamboni?” Karl asked, slidin
g his protein shake on the table.
Anders ran his hand through his hair and then sighed. “I’ve been a dick.”
Instead of the laughter Anders expected, Karl frowned. “Why? With Liv?”
He shook his head. “No. In truth, Liv is the one good thing in my life right now. Better than good, she’s fucking amazing.”
Karl grinned. “I told you, a good woman can do that to you. So what’s up?”
“I don’t even know how to explain it. There are so many threads to this and I started pulling at them and I’m getting all unraveled.”
“So start. Start at the beginning.”
Anders took a deep breath and did as Karl asked. He went back to the very start. “I hated moving around so much as a kid. I envied how easy it was for you to move and fit in and make friends. I’ve always been more focused, more introverted. On paper, you know that the majority of professional team athletes are extroverts. Only a few introverts ever really make it. But being an intense kid that loved learning, it was tough to fit in. I’d see you heading out with friends days after we’d moved, and it would take me months to find a person to hang out with.”
He looked up to see Karl looking at him intently. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would have hung out with you more.”
“I learned early to not let people see when anything bothered me.”
“The Iceberg,” Karl said, as if suddenly piecing the picture together.
“Yeah, the Iceberg. It always felt safer to make sure no one knew how I was feeling. In some ways, I even began to stop feeling. Because leaving was brutal. Saying goodbye to a friend, knowing I would have this whole new period of time alone when we moved again to wherever we were going. The only thing that helped as I grew older was hockey.”
“Shit, Anders. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that tough for you. It must have really sucked.”
“The thing is—the Iceberg. It isn’t something I planned. It isn’t even something I really want to be. I just don’t know how to break the cycle of being that person.”
Karl took a deep breath. “I’m relieved. I was worried about you. Wait. No. That’s not quite right. You’ve always been so independent. You’ve never needed me. You’ve just got on with things, and I kind of admired that. In light of what you said, though, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the way I should have been. I guess I just figured that was how you preferred it.”
Love In Moments: An opposites attract hockey romance (Love Distilled Book 2) Page 18
