The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

by Mariana Zapata

  That was something to think about later when Aiden wasn’t busy telling me I was stereotyping the rest of his countrymen. “Not every Canadian is good at hockey,” he explained, tying the cord of his pajama pants.

  I glanced at his calm face and raised my eyebrows. “Are you saying you sucked at it?”

  He gave me that smug look I usually hated as he planted his hands at his waist. “I didn’t ‘suck at it.’ I’m good at most sports. I didn’t enjoy playing it, is all.”

  Arrogant much?

  “You’ve sat through all those interviews with me. You know everything,” he added in a way that struck a chord with me, like he was trying to tell me something I couldn’t piece together.

  “You’ve always just talked about how you liked playing lacrosse, but that’s it.” For some reason, no one had ever outright asked him why he didn’t play the more popular Canadian sport than one that was predominantly American, at least as far as I could remember.

  The big guy leaned his bottom against the dresser. “My grandfather enrolled me in it for a few seasons when I was younger, but it didn’t click for me, you didn’t know that?” I shook my head. “My high school’s hockey coach tried recruiting me to play for him in grade 10. I was already six feet tall. I weighed two hundred pounds, but I told him I wasn’t interested.”

  While I recognized the differences between football and hockey were vast, I still couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to hint at. “What didn’t you like about it?”

  “I didn’t like it. It’s that simple.” His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and the big guy didn’t make any theatrics about what he said. “My dad used to beat the shit out of me because he could, once a week at least until I hit puberty. I’ve gotten into enough fights in my life; I’ll fight somebody if there’s a good reason, but not for a game.”

  I never tried to throw myself too much of a pity party over what I’d grown up with. Over not being loved enough by my mom. Over not being important enough for whoever my dad was to stick around or at least attempt to meet me. While I definitely wasn’t as messed up as my sisters, I had a temper. I got angry easily. But I had made myself learn how to control it. I had decided early on that I wasn’t going to let that emotion define me.

  I wanted to be better. I wanted to be a good person. I wanted to be someone—not necessarily someone great or someone important—but someone I could live with.

  My little brother didn’t drink at all, and I knew it was because of our mom’s drinking problem. While he was four years younger than me and had spent less time in that household than I had, he remembered enough. How could he not? But I didn’t want to avoid alcohol because I was scared of what it could do to me. I didn’t want to demonize it. I wanted to prove to myself that it wasn’t a monster that destroyed lives unless you let it.

  Life was all about choices. You chose what to make out of what you had. And I wasn’t going to let it make me its bitch. I could be a mature adult who knew her limits. I could be a good person. Maybe not all the time, but enough.

  So Aiden’s explanation, and the fact that his motherfucking asshole dad used to pick on him, pricked at the soft, tender pieces of this place that went deeper than my heart. I knew what it was like to not want to fall into a hole that had been dug for you before you even had a chance to fill it up. It made my eyes sting.

  I made myself look down so he wouldn’t see what had to be eighty different unwanted emotions written all over my face.

  And maybe Aiden felt as unbalanced as I did because he set the subject back into place, and moved on to a safer one. “I was playing lacrosse before that anyway.”

  The rest of the story I was familiar with, and I told it while my gaze was still on the muted beige carpet. “Then Leslie talked you into trying football,” I relayed back to him the information he’d shared with others a hundred times before. According to the story, he’d never played football before and he’d been interested. The rest was history. Except now I knew a fragment of the story I didn’t before—he’d known Leslie for a long time. He’d been his grandfather’s best friend. Leslie believed he’d asked him at the right moment. It had been a split second decision that had changed the entire course of his life.

  That summer between grade 10 and 11, he gained twenty pounds of muscle and practiced with Leslie several times a week. By the middle of his last year of high school, several schools in Canada and the U.S. had already begun trying to get in on the Aiden Graves pie. He was a phenomenon. A natural. His talent and hard work was etched so deeply into him, it was impossible to ignore the diamond in the rough.

  “Leslie asked me to play for him the day after my grandfather caught me with a girl in his backseat, and told me I needed to find something more productive to do with my time or he would.”

  How about that. He really wasn’t a virgin. Huh. My mouth twitched and I raised my gaze up to meet his. “Well, I think it’s really admirable that you only get into fights with people who deserve to get the shit kicked out of them. If no one else ever tells you, it’s really noble. Very superhero-y.”

  My comment had the big guy rolling his eyes, uncomfortable with my compliment. Well, he was uncomfortable with every compliment ever hurled his way. I didn’t know why I found it so attractive, and I didn’t really want to, but it was impossible to feel otherwise. How could someone be so arrogant but so humble at the same time?

  “I’m not even close to being some kind of hero,” he argued.

  A burst of affection filled my chest. “You came to save me last week when I needed you. You can be an off-white knight in shining armor,” I told him before I could think twice about what I was saying.

  His chin seemed to jerk back and those irises focused on me. His jaw went tight.

  I’d already said enough, and I didn’t want to push too much. At the rate I was going, I’d end up complimenting his butt next. “Okay, I know it’s close to your bedtime, and I just wanted to say thank you for my gift. I’ll wear it with pride, but just don’t tell Zac I left his at home.”

  The big guy nodded, standing straight. He shook out his hands at his sides. “Good night, Van.”

  I took a step back and grabbed the doorknob, smiling as I closed the door on my way out. “Night, night.”

  * * *

  Meet me in the family room, the note, written in neat print on the back of a grocery store receipt, read; I’d only been expecting my ticket, not the pass to get me through security that had been inside along with it.

  The pass burned as a constant reminder inside my pocket the entire game—a game they lost. I’d kept touching it to make sure it hadn’t fallen out, trying to wrap my head around why he would ask me to meet him afterward. I mean, I’d met him afterward a few times, but it had always been because he needed something from me when I worked for him.

  I had to ask a few of the stadium’s employees where to go, because when I used to meet up with Aiden in the past, I would usually drive straight over and go through the entrance allocated for family members.

  I wasn’t looking forward to going to the family room, mainly because it would be the first time I’d see everyone since last season. I wouldn’t call any of the wives I’d been friendly with ‘friends,’ but I didn’t think they’d forgotten about me in a year. Back then, I’d been the only woman in Aiden’s life, and for a little while, I’d been ‘the new girl’ because most of them hadn’t been convinced I was his assistant and our relationship was solely a business one.

  And now…

  Well, now I looked like a lying schmuck when there really hadn’t been anything going on between Aiden and me in the past. But it wasn’t like anyone was going to believe that now, even if I hadn’t seen them since his injury last October.

  If I wanted to be honest with myself, I was dreading it a little.

  Okay, more than a little.

  I had to really reach down into my spine and pump some steel into it, reminding myself that I knew I hadn’t lied to anyone. As long
as I knew that, it was all I would need. I was there for Aiden, not anyone else. In my head, I kept repeating those words as I marched through security checkpoint after security checkpoint with my pass and ID in my back pocket ready to get put to good use.

  The ‘family room’ was really just a glorified area on the way toward the players’ parking lot, with a few couches and circular tables, clear away from the media. I took my time walking over, but it came too quickly anyway. With one last security check, I raised my chin up high and walked into the room like it was no big deal, like I had nothing to feel bad about.

  The room was packed. Packed with kids and women and men of all ages. It was stuffed full of Three Hundreds’ apparel. The first “Oh, honey, congratulations!” smacked me right between the shoulder blades, and while I wasn’t any sort of actress, I didn’t like being a rude asshole when it was me being deceptive.

  So I turned around and tried to give the woman talking a bright expression.

  What followed was probably one of the most painful thirty minutes I’d ever spent, and that was saying a lot considering my last trip to El Paso had sucked complete ass.

  “I am so happy for you!”

  “You two are meant for each other!”

  “Are you expecting?”

  “You have to make sure to always support your man.”

  “Make sure to plan the baby for the offseason!”

  Meant for each other? My man? A fucking baby?

  I wasn’t sure how I didn’t throw up. Honestly. Then there were all the subtle comments about how an NFO player’s wife, especially a player for the Three Hundreds, was supposed to act. The players were supposed to be the center of the universe. Families were preferably not seen and not heard. ‘We’ were the invisible support systems.

  I didn’t know a lot about the women, but I knew enough about the guys from the bits and pieces that Zac occasionally shared with me, and only a few of them were impressive. And if a guy was a piece of crap, what was his girlfriend or significant other like?

  It was when I was in the middle of thinking about things like that, that I remembered I was married to the person who was considered by many to be the biggest asshole on the team. At least according to what Zac had told me in the past. He wasn’t friendly, much less open, and he put zero effort into establishing friendships with anyone, much less the spouses and families of the people he played alongside with. He’d said it time and time again, he didn’t have time for friendships or relationships.

  What did that say about me? I was a lying asshole and a prostitute, depending on how you analyzed the facts.

  I was in the middle of trying to lie to one of the vets’ wives that I’d already had a Thanksgiving meal when players began trickling into the room. Apparently, her husband was one of them because she patted my arm almost immediately after peeking over my shoulder. “I’ll have to get your phone number next game. We should get together, babe.”

  On top of being an asshole and a prostitute, I was an imposter. Here were these women who were trying to be nice and include me—though a portion of them were those who had turned me off from hanging out in the family box—and here was I. A fake wife. I was a person who would be out of their lives in a few years, if not sooner depending on whatever Aiden decided in the near future.

  Maybe this whole hanging-out-in-the-family-room thing hadn’t been a good idea.

  The good thing was, the regular season was already more than halfway over.

  With a loose one-armed hug, she left me standing there alone for the first time since I’d walked into the room. I watched as the players approached their families in varying moods. Some of them had acceptant smiles, some of them had reluctant ones, and others wore sad smiles. A few looked pissed and didn’t bother trying to hide it; it was obvious they would have rather been anywhere else than where they were.

  Where was Aiden?

  Had he forgotten about me or—

  That familiar, big head suddenly appeared in a group of men just slightly smaller than him. Those brown eyes set deep into that broadly painted bone structure scanned the room quickly before they landed on me.

  I waved.

  His features weren’t molded into any kind of particular emotion as he tipped his chin down. Those fine, full lips mouthed, ‘Ready?’

  I smiled and nodded. Making my way through the crowded room, I kept my gaze on Aiden’s face for the most part. I passed by two of the guys I’d done some work for in the past and stopped briefly when one of them shook my hand; the other player, the super sexy one every female Three Hundreds’ fan was in love with, gave me a hug.

  I was going to have to tell Diana about it. She’d lost it when I’d told her I was doing some work for him.

  Apparently, I must have had a look on my face that said exactly how attractive I found his teammate because Aiden was frowning when I reached him. I could feel the eerie sensation of multiple eyes on me, on us, looking and judging, and I knew what we needed to do. I made my eyes go wide and I flashed him a fake, toothy smile he would definitely realize was a sign to mentally prepare himself.

  In hindsight, I should have kissed him.

  Instead, I hugged him, my arms going around his waist for the first time ever.

  The fact that we’d—literally—slept together but hadn’t even officially hugged was beyond me. This had been two and a half years in the making.

  If I had ever taken the time to imagine what it would be like to hug Aiden, the reality of it wouldn’t have been disappointing in the least. Despite the fact that his broad shoulders tapered down to a trim waist, it wasn’t that small. It was an illusion based on how muscular and oversized his upper body was.

  My hands found each other around the small of his back. My chest met with his abs, and they were just as hard and unyielding as they looked. I pressed the side of my face to the spot right between his pecs, cheek first. His body was warm from the shower he’d taken and he smelled like the clean, gentle scent of his soap.

  In the middle of me taking in the soft fragrance coming off of him, he put his arms around me. Gently, gently, gently. One arm went around the top of my shoulders and the other one directly below it. He tightened his embrace and brought me in an inch closer into the cocoon of his massive body.

  I tried not to freeze. He was hugging me. He was hugging me.

  Something settled at the top of my head and I knew, I just freaking knew, it was his chin.

  It was probably the second best hug I’d ever gotten in my life; only beat by the one my foster dad had given me when he visited me in the hospital right after Susie had hit me with her car. He’d been the first person to show up, the first person to come into my room after I’d woken up, and I’d lost it. And he’d given me a hug and let me grieve for the death of the rocky relationship I’d had with her.

  But this was a completely different kind of hug.

  While Zac wasn’t a small man by any means and my little brother was six foot four, I’d never been hugged by someone as large as Aiden. I liked it. I liked it a whole lot. His bicep, pressed over my ear, seemed to muffle the noise of the people talking in the background. It was like being swallowed up by a tornado. A big, muscular, warm tornado with an amazing body that was going to watch out for you for the next few years of your life, even when you weren’t on the best terms.

  A big, muscular, warm tornado with an amazing body that was finally my friend.

  That thought had me smiling into the beloved hoodie he had on. “This is nice,” I admitted in a whisper.

  The chest under my face tightened as much as those refined muscles could possibly get.

  The hug only lasted possibly five seconds total before I drew back, but I was grinning like a total idiot, and I might have even been blushing because the moment was so monumentally epic, it felt like I’d won a gold medal. Then I remembered the team had lost their game and I dug into my front pocket for one of the slightly melted peppermint patties I’d snuck into the stadium. I had planned
on eating it, but when I found the pass with my ticket, I ate one, saving the other for the big guy.

  Holding the small plastic wrapped candy out, I raised my eyebrows.

  He raised his eyebrows right back and plucked the chocolate from my palm, tearing it open and sticking it in his mouth, the wrapper disappearing into the pocket of his jacket.

  I watched him as he chewed it slowly and asked, “Do you have to do anything else?”

  The Wall of Winnipeg shook his head, his attention totally focused on me, instead of the people around us.

  My face went a little warm, unsure of how I felt with him and being the center of that intense stare. “You want to go home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you drive me to get my car? I parked in the normal people’s lot—”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll let you drive into the parking lot…” I trailed off when he gave me that ‘you’re an idiot, Van’ look. I really wanted to stick my finger in his nose. “Right. Of course they’ll let you in. Give me a ride then.”

  Aiden silently agreed, steering me with a tilt of his head toward the exit.

  We’d taken maybe two steps when I spotted a familiar face standing at the entrance to the family room. I rolled back my shoulders as we approached the Three Hundreds’ wide receiver. I saw the moment he spotted Aiden and then happened to glance to see me next to him. The smile that came over his face was downright unsettling, and it pissed me off.

  “Good game, man,” Christian Delgado said to Aiden even as his gaze stayed locked on me. “Hi, Vanessa.”

  “Hi, Christian,” I greeted him back, my voice flat, totally unenthusiastic.

  “How you doing?”

  “Fine, thank you, and you?” I seriously sounded like Lurch from “The Addams Family.”

  The handsy fucker winked. He freaking winked at me even as Aiden played my oversized shadow. “Great, honey.”