But I’d done my research. There were safe-haven laws all across the country. In Oklahoma, I didn’t even have to answer any questions. I could just leave the baby with an employee at the hospital or any of the other designated drop-off zones.
Before I’d handed the baby over to her, I’d asked her if she was an employee, even though I’d seen her name badge. Tricia Patterson, R.N., it read, along with other credentials for the hospital. As soon as she’d answered in the affirmative, I’d passed him over into her waiting arms and told her I was surrendering him, my voice cracking so badly on the words that they were almost indistinguishable.
And now, she wanted to ask me more questions. I had to leave. Right away. Before I took that little boy back into my own arms and took him home with me.
“I know it is. And you’re right, this is a safe place. I’m not trying to get you in trouble,” she said, clearly trying to calm me down. There couldn’t be any doubt that I was just this side of losing control. “But can you tell me anything about yourself? Or the baby? Anything at all? When was the baby born?” Maybe she was trying to help me, too, not just learn as much as she could about the situation.
I hadn’t intended to say anything. My plan had been to hand over the baby and make my exit as fast as possible. Because the longer I stayed there, the longer I could see him, the more I could think about changing my mind. But before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “He was born about three hours ago. Just before midnight.”
“So he’s a Christmas Eve baby,” she said with a soft smile. “And a boy?”
I nodded, too emotional to get any more words out without running the risk of completely breaking down.
“And you’re the mother?”
I couldn’t allow myself to think of him as being his mother. That was a dangerous idea. I blinked back more tears and bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to hold it together. “I gave birth to him,” I said, in lieu of calling myself his mother. “About three hours ago. Like I said.”
“Did you give him a name yet?”
The tears spilled over then. Naming him was something I couldn’t allow myself to do. It would only bring on a fresh wave of tears, and I just… I couldn’t go there. So he didn’t have a name. So I shook my head and tried to leave again before I completely lost it.
But that nurse put a hand on mine, and I froze. “Can you tell me anything about your medical history?” she asked. “Or the baby’s father?”
Already, the urge to take him back into my arms and forget all about the whole idea of surrendering him had grown so strong I wasn’t sure I could fight it off much longer. So I shook my head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Will the father be looking for him?”
“The father probably doesn’t even remember he was going to be a father.” With that, I broke down into a sobbing mess, collapsing into a pile of snow that had been shoveled out of the driveway.
“Why don’t you come inside?” she suggested, looking panicky. “We can help you. We can have the doctors check you out, too.” She even bent down, cradling my baby in her arms to keep from dropping him, and reached for my hand to help me to my feet.
But I picked myself up and brushed the snow off, and I shook my head again. “It’s best this way.”
“No one’s going to try to make you—” Her words dissipated into the black night as I walked back to Rick’s car.
I probably should have gone inside and gotten checked out that night. It would have been the smart thing. I had just delivered a baby on the apartment floor, after all. Maybe if I had, I would have learned I was HIV-positive a lot sooner than I did. But if I’d gone inside that building that night, I was almost positive I would have walked out again with that little boy in my arms.
Even now, those same arms ached to hold him one more time. I knew he was better off wherever he was now. Newborn babies get adopted fast, so he wouldn’t have spent much time in the system waiting for a home. He probably had two parents who loved him, who could provide for him…maybe even siblings. And he wasn’t living in some tiny, run-down efficiency apartment with no father and with a mother who kept ending up in the loony bin. He was better off now than he would have been with me.
But it still broke my heart every time I thought about the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see him grow up.
“Hey,” Drew said, brushing a tear off my cheek with the pad of his thumb and startling me out of my pity party. “You okay?”
I sat up straight and blinked a few times, trying to get my tears under control. I never did that. I didn’t lose it in front of my clients. Typically, I reserved my moments of acting like a crazy person for when I was completely alone, or at worst, when only those people who knew me best, like Rick, were around.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Call me crazy,” Drew said, “but I don’t know that I can believe that. I mean, it’s not every day that a woman cries all over me for no reason…”
Razor let out a snort, but he got up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with his friend.
I got up and grabbed a tissue, quickly drying my eyes and tossing it in the bin. My gloves followed the tissue, and then I washed my hands again so I could glove up all over again. “I’m all better now,” I said. “It’s not going to affect your tattoo at all.”
He followed my every movement with his eyes. “I’m not worried about my tattoo, baby. I’m worried about you.”
“Well, there’s no reason for you to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Do people who’re fine start crying for no reason? Wait…I know. It’s because we were talking about the T-Birds’ upcoming season. We’re still going to be awful, I know, but—”
I laughed out loud. Couldn’t help it. The things he was saying were so ridiculous that there was no other option.
He nodded solemnly. “Probably better to laugh it off. That’s how bad we’re going to be. I always feel shitty for Zee and some of the other older guys. They deserve a shot at winning the Cup, but sticking around here, they’ll never get it.”
“What are you even talking about?” I asked, picking up my machine again and settling in to get back to work. I dipped the needle into the cup of black ink and set it in place over his taut skin.
“The Thunderbirds?” He raised a brow. “Razor and I play in the NHL.”
“The NHL?” I murmured, focused on the line I was filling in. “Not a minor league or something? Isn’t it hard to keep the ice frozen around here?” I’d remembered him saying he played hockey, but that was as far as I’d gotten with figuring out who he was.
He winked. “I don’t imagine the crew has an easy time of it, but that’s their problem, not mine.”
“I didn’t realize we had a pro hockey team in Tulsa.”
“You’re not alone.” He let out a sigh that I felt all the way to my toes. “And if we don’t get our shit together, that won’t change any time soon.”
“You’re not any good?”
“Well, I am. We’re all good hockey players. We’re just not quite there as a team, you know?”
With his free hand, he reached over and brushed a finger along the top of my left hand, where I’d rested it on his chest to steady myself. I shot my gaze up to meet his, my breath catching in my throat.
“What?” I asked, because he was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t allow myself to interpret.
Drew shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just nice to see you smile. And I kind of like the thought that you weren’t after me because I’m a hockey player.” Then he winked, and I cracked up even more than before.
“Do women throw themselves at you because you’re in the NHL?”
“Nah. Not anymore, at least.”
“Anymore?” I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t want to get to know him better. That would only lead to me thinking about him more than I already was, and my head was too fucked up for me to risk getting involved with someone right n
ow. Too late, though, because the question had already come out.
“Not since the world found out I’m HIV-positive. I’m kind of surprised you don’t already know all about that, actually. It was all over the news last April.”
I dipped the needle into the ink again before pressing the tip to his skin, trying not to focus on the way his warm hand had settled over the back of mine, holding it to his chest in an almost possessive manner. Because it felt good. Too good. My breaths fluttered through my lungs. “Well, I’ve never been one to follow sports much. Besides, in April I was—”
In the loony bin. I barely cut myself off in time. A massive knot formed in my throat.
“In April, you were what?” he asked.
“I wasn’t paying any attention to the news,” I said evasively.
But then Razor came back in, carrying three cups from Starbucks in one of their cardboard drink carriers, saving me from having to explain further.
I didn’t need Drew to know I’d been in a behavioral health facility in April. Or again in June. I didn’t need him to know anything at all about me.
All I needed was to finish this tattoo so he could leave, and then I could find a way to put him out of my mind.
He should be a hell of a lot easier to forget about than my baby, at least.
Razor handed me one of the cups, grinning and winking at me as I took my hand out from under Drew’s, thankful for the excuse for breaking that contact. “Loaded it up with tons of cream and sugar. I asked the guy up front—the one with the spiky hair. Let me know if it’s not sweet enough, and I can take care of it for you, sugar.” Then he peeked over my shoulder and handed Drew another cup. “Looking good. You won’t have to wear a Band-Aid over it to show yourself in the locker room, after all.”
I sipped from my coffee and kept working. The two guys started up their banter again, which meant I could go back to doing my best to ignore them and stop attempting to carry on a conversation.
But I couldn’t help but wish Drew’s strong, soothing hand was still covering mine.
TO MY UTTER shock, Ravyn was already in the conference room at the community center on Tuesday morning when I walked in for the support group meeting. I was so unprepared to see her there, despite the fact that I’d done my damnedest to convince her to return, that I did a double take when I walked in, guarding my senses against the overpowering lemon scent, not to mention the overwhelming draw I felt toward Ravyn.
But I hadn’t made a mistake and I wasn’t seeing visions. She was really there, already nursing a cup of coffee in a seat at the back, head ducked down, as if that would keep anyone from realizing it was her. This time, her dreads were pulled back and tied together behind her head. No tank top. Too bad. Instead, she was wearing a black men’s Ramones T-shirt that was three sizes too big. I couldn’t help but think it must have belonged to an ex, which made me jealous in ways I didn’t want to explore.
We’d moved into September now, but still no rain. I found myself hoping for one of the random fall thunderstorms we’d had in my first couple of seasons, but for some reason, I didn’t think we’d get one.
Since we were getting closer to the start of training camp and more of the guys on the team had started returning to Tulsa, yesterday a bunch of us had gotten together to work out, which meant I had to be a lot more conscientious about how I was eating again. I’d already had an egg-white-and-veggie omelet this morning before coming in, so this time I just grabbed a coffee. No more pastries for me, no matter how tempting.
Except…I still wasn’t sure if I should get back on the ice. Hockey was the only thing I’d ever known. It was the only future I’d ever envisioned for myself, until that game at the end of the last season, when I’d nearly bled to death on the ice in front of friends and fans alike.
When Eric Zellinger had ignored my warnings and jumped into action, putting his bare hands on the gash in my neck. The freaking guy had risked his own life in order to save mine. I still didn’t know how to process that. And I didn’t want to put anyone else in that position ever again.
All of that was racing through my head as I took my coffee over to sit next to Ravyn. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I said quietly.
“Wasn’t expecting to be here.”
“So why are you?”
She shrugged. “My doctors told me that if I didn’t keep coming, they were going to put me back in inpatient care.”
I raised a brow in question.
“I’ve been in and out of the loony bin a lot lately.”
“The loony bin…”
“It’s my pet name for the county behavioral health facility. For some reason, when you get caught cutting yourself and other things like that, they seem to think you’re not fit to be among the general population.”
“Cutting yourself?” I repeated, trying to take it all in. “Like, you tried to hurt yourself?”
Again, she shrugged. “I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t want to die. I just… I don’t know how to deal. If anything, I’m trying to remind myself that I really, truly am still alive. When all the shit’s running around in my head, I have to do something, you know? So I cut.”
“And when you get caught doing it—”
“They toss me in the loony bin, yeah.” She gave me an annoyed look. “There are all sorts of people who end up there, you know, and that doesn’t make us crazy. Some of us do self-harm. Others are addicts. Lots are bipolar or deal with anxiety disorders. Damn sure makes me feel crazy when I’m in there, but I’m not actually insane.”
“I never said you were.”
She narrowed her eyes, studying me for a moment. “No, I suppose you didn’t. Sorry. I get kind of defensive when I have to talk about this shit.”
“No one’s making you talk about it,” I pointed out. It didn’t escape my notice that, forced or not, she was telling me, though. That was definitely progress. And I liked the fact that it was me she was telling, out of all the people she could have gone to.
A hmph-ing sound came from her as she crossed her arms in front of her and leaned back in her chair, resting her coffee cup on her thigh. That move pushed her breasts up higher, which, of course, got me thinking about her breasts again. And how much I liked them. And how I’d like to see them again.
“Careful with that coffee, now,” I said, dropping my voice when she lifted the cup for a sip. I waited for her to look up in question. “There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world. It would be a pity to damage yours.”
She snorted in laughter, which drew a few eyes from around the room. “Princess Bride again?” But then she sobered up again. “Pretty sure that’s what my doctors think is going to happen if they make me come to these stupid meetings. That I’ll have to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Says the guy who isn’t being threatened with a stint in the loony bin.” But she laughed.
I could get used to hearing her laugh. It was rich and husky, reminiscent of the sounds she made when we’d been in bed together. Addictive.
Damn, I was a fucking mess.
While we were sitting there, the rest of the room had filled in. Now, Jack Carson took a seat in the center of the room, across from the two of us. He cleared his throat and took a sip from his coffee before setting the Styrofoam cup on the floor by his feet. “Good to see everyone again.” He nodded in our direction, catching Ravyn’s eye. She slumped lower in her seat, trying to be invisible, but he kept looking around the room as if he hadn’t noticed her disappearing act. “I don’t have anything on the agenda today, so I thought I’d open it up for anyone who needs to talk. Any takers?”
A few people shifted in their seats, mumbling things to their neighbors. It was always this way if we didn’t have a speaker coming in or a specific topic to get us started. No one wanted to have the spotlight focused in their direction.
Normally, I didn’t, either. But today wasn’t no
rmal. I leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees with my coffee warming both hands. “Actually, yeah,” I said before I could think better of it and stop myself.
Ravyn flashed worried eyes in my direction, but she didn’t need to be anxious. This had nothing at all to do with her and everything to do with me.
“So I think you all know I’ve been struggling lately. Debating my future and shit. I mean, the team’s been great about everything that went down. The guys are all acting like they want me back this season. They say they want me playing with them. Even Zee, which is nuts, since he’s the one I could have infected.”
I paused for a moment, taking in the eyes staring my way, the heads nodding empathetically. It was Ravyn’s attention I felt more acutely than the rest, though. We might have been intimate, but that didn’t mean we knew a damn thing about each other. She hadn’t even heard the news when I’d taken a skate blade to the throat last spring, and it had been everywhere, not just on ESPN and other sports outlets. But she’d opened up to me somewhat, revealing that she harmed herself and had spent time in “the loony bin,” as she put it. This was a way I could turn the tables, so to speak. It didn’t escape my notice that she was eating it up.
“I’ve got a meeting scheduled later this week with the general manager and coaches,” I said. “I’m supposed to give them my answer. I’m under contract, but they’ll let me out of it if I decide I want out. I can officially retire as a player, maybe take on some other position within the organization. Or just leave professional hockey entirely, I suppose. And they’ve given me a hell of a lot longer to make my decision than they needed to. I mean, if I wasn’t going to play, the fair thing for me to do would be to fill them in before July, when they could have made some moves in free agency and whatnot. But they told me I could have until now, just before training camp starts up.”
“I get the sense that you still haven’t made up your mind,” Jack said, his voice calm and measured, just like always.
“Not in the slightest. I don’t know who I am if I’m not a hockey player. I don’t know who I want to be or who I can be. I mean, I don’t have any skills to speak of outside of what I can do on the ice, and I never finished high school. Who’s going to be stupid enough to give me a job?”
Rites of Passage Page 8
