I lug my training gear out of my truck and walk up the sidewalk, listening to the throng of people calling out my name and requesting autographs. Usually, I would stop, but today, it just doesn’t feel right.
I notice a few people calling over the crowd, asking about Sophie but I try my best to ignore it. I can’t have the replay of Sophie’s injuries and our loss floating around in my mind while I’m training. All that’s going to do is piss me off and that is not going to help anyone.
As I make my way through the throng of people I notice Crazy Stalker Jill, reaching out to touch me but I just don’t have it in me to show her any kind of attention. I push past her but seriously, what does she expect? She takes it all a little too far. Sure, I’m pleased she is such a great fan and comes out to support us but the messages and phone calls? I can’t deal with it today.
I finally break through the crowd and into the silence of the closed ice rink. Well, mostly silence, the figure skaters are just finishing up their session so the place is filled with feminine gossip and chatter while the Zamboni puts around the ice, creating a smooth, slick surface for me and my boys.
I head past the girls who are just getting started on their off-ice workouts and am thankful that they seem to be getting shit done in a timely manner today. My boys don’t need the distraction of a bunch of chicks ogling them while they are trying to train.
I push my way through the heavy door of the locker room and instantly feel the eyes of my teammates on me and without needing to look, I know they are filled with pity. I go about my business, trying my best to ignore them when Cameron finally speaks up for the group.
“Hey man,” he starts. “How’s our girl doing?”
I turn to face him, not really wanting to talk about it but I know this is different. I notice I have every single eye in the room on me, including Miller’s but these guys truly just want to know how she is doing unlike the prying, curious minds of the fans from outside. These guys are my teammates, friends and more importantly, my family, ready and willing to support one another when it's needed, so I shouldn’t have expected anything different.
“Not so great,” I tell them truthfully. I get a few cringes from the guys as Sophie is just as much of the Storm family as I am, in fact, she is probably more liked than me. “Physically, she is healing just as expected, she still has a long way to go but the morphine is making it a lot more manageable for her. Emotionally…,” I say with a sigh. “She’s not healing at all.”
I hear and see the brokenness coming from the guys in the room as their thoughts lie with Sophie and to be honest, I thought talking about it would have been the hardest thing I’d have to do today but now that they know, it makes it just that bit easier.
I hear a familiar voice cut through the silence of the room. “What about you?” My eyes cut to Miller and narrow on him. What is he doing? He knows I’m not handling it. He’s been there every day, slowly taking bits and pieces of the nursery apart and removing it before Sophie can manage walking and see it for herself.
He raises an eyebrow at me, daring me to answer and knowing just how much I hate talking about myself or my feelings but something inside me tells me he is doing this for my own well-being. After all, he lost his sister a few years ago and that was the hardest thing he has ever been through yet somehow, he made it out the other end.
Maybe it’s possible the fucker knows what’s best for me right now. With a sigh, I let the boys have it. “To be honest, I’m not coping at all. Sophie and I have barely spoken over the past week. I have so much anger, I’m scared I’m going to say something I might regret while Sophie lays in bed each day, holding her stomach and crying for our son.”
Miller gives me a nod before getting back to tying his skates while the boys somewhat do the same. Some offer me their condolences while others offer me any kind of help and support that’s needed.
I realise Miller was right to make me admit it. Being strong in front of the boys has always been a motto of mine. I never show weakness, not if I don’t have to but this is different. This is life and death. This is my son.
Having the boys know that shit isn’t ok right now is somehow a blessing. I don’t know how but as a team, it makes us stronger. Knowing how each and every member of this team is doing physically as well as emotionally makes us perform better as a group and if it takes me admitting that I’m struggling with the loss of my son to help me to move forward, then I’m damn glad I’ve taken that step.
But also knowing these boys will be here when shit gets hard is also a blessing in its self.
The second the boys notice the testosterone in the room is running dangerously low, we get our shit together. I pull my gear on and take my seat beside Miller. “I fucking hate you for making me do that but I think I needed it,” I murmur.
“No problems, man,” he replies. “Dealing with loss isn’t easy.”
He couldn’t be more right. Before my son, I had never lost a single soul and now that I have, the grief I suffer from is something I never thought possible. It easts you alive until it has completely consumed you yet somehow you need to find a way to push through.
I try my hardest to push the thoughts of Sophie and my son away from my mind. I came here to train and that’s exactly what I intend to do.
I lead the boys out of the locker room and they instantly fall in line. We step onto the ice while two guys head off to grab the nets and the newbie goes to grab the pucks.
We run a few warm-up drills followed by some torturous sprints before Coach is taking the ice and pushing us to our limits.
We exit the ice a few hours later, dripping with sweat.
I’m in the middle of getting out of my hockey gear when Coach enters the locker room. “Tank,” he calls.
I turn immediately and give him my full attention. “Yes, Coach?”
“Get yourself dressed and meet me in my office in ten.”
I give him a quick nod before he disappears. I rush through a shower and pull my clothes on. I quickly check my phone to make sure Sophie hasn’t been looking for me but it’s not like she would actually call, she’s more a suffer in silence type now, something I intend to change. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, she hasn’t bothered to set up the new phone and devices I’d gotten her.
I say goodbye to the boys and make my way to Coach Larsden’s office. I rap on the door before pushing my way through and taking a seat. “Thanks for joining me,” Coach says, fondly.
“No problem, what can I do for you?” I ask getting straight into it as I’m anxious to get home to Sophie.
“Look, I won’t keep you long but I need to know how things are going at home?” he asks with a cringe, knowing I hate talking about myself.
I let out a sigh, hating that I’m repeating this conversation for the second time today. “Not great, Coach. It’s hard but we’re slowly getting there.”
“I understand,” he says. “You’re not going to like this but I legally have to remind you of your options to utilise our team counsellor and therapist. I know it’s not ‘your thing’ but they could do wonders while you’re dealing with grief.”
I give Coach a look and he instantly holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I had no choice in the matter,” he says.
“Thank you, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline,” I tell him, “and to be honest, being on the ice with the boys seemed to help a lot.”
“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “How’s that woman of yours doing?”
I let out a pained sigh. “She’s not coping with it and honestly, I’m running out of ideas on how to help her. She’s blaming herself for what those bastards did to her and I can’t pull her out of it, she won’t even talk to me,” I tell him. “Maybe I could use the counsellor for her?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Coach says. “I hate that she isn’t the bright, beaming woman I’m so used to seeing.”
“You and me, both, Coach.”
“Look, you know my door is alwa
ys open if you need anything,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say with a nod as I get up out of my chair.
“Tank,” he calls. I turn to face him and notice the cringe sitting squarely across his face. “I hate to say it but if your skating starts to plummet, you’ll have to do mandatory grief counselling.”
I nod my head in understanding. “It won’t come to that,” I say with confidence.
“Excellent,” he smiles, clearly happy to have this conversation over and done with. “Now get home to that woman.”
“Will do.”
Chapter 12
Sophie
It’s Tank’s first game of the season and I feel like an absolute bitch. I’ve been up and walking around for at least a week now, it’s hard but it’s manageable. Going to his game would have been challenging but I would have had Dani there to help, so when he asked if I was feeling up to it. I did what I usually do.
I declined.
Not once in the time that I have been with him have I missed a game, except for maybe once in college when I was still denying that there was anything between us. I feel terrible but at the same time, how can I allow myself to go out and enjoy my life, enjoy my time when I’ve killed my child.
It’s not fair to him and it’s certainly not fair to Tank.
I should be miserable.
He should hate me.
Things between us have certainly been rough and quite frankly, I don’t know what he’s still doing here. Why hasn’t he left yet? He tells me every day that he loves me and I believe him. I just don’t understand how he could.
He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a woman who is going to treat him like the king that he is, the way I used to. I so desperately want to be that woman for him, to have the old me back but how could I? After my selfish actions took our son away and almost took my own life.
I see the absolute tortured look in his eyes every time he looks at me. He will start at my eyes with love which gives me hope that maybe he can forgive me but then his eyes travel down my body and that love turns to rage moments before it turns to heartache the second he’s reminded that I bare no child in my womb.
How could a man be happy in a relationship when every time he looks at his wife, he is reminded of what was taken from him?
God, I’m so desperately in love with him that this whole situation tears me up inside. Why couldn’t I have just left the Baxter case alone? The fucker has got away with it so it was all for nothing anyway.
I’ve ruined our lives for nothing.
My eyes travel down to the amazing rings that take over my ring finger and my heart begins to ache. The thought of leaving has circled my mind a few times over the past couple of weeks, purely for the fact that Tank deserves better.
The idea of leaving him absolutely kills me but I need to do it. I need to get away and I need to give him space to move forward.
He has this anger that has been taking over him and he needs to let it go but in order for him to do that, I need to be gone. The anger will stay as long as he is looking at me each and every day. I’m the constant reminder of what he’s lost.
It’s selfish of me to stay yet it’s selfish for me to go.
No matter what I do, I can’t win. But then again. I don’t deserve to win.
With a sigh, I call out for Gretchen and let her know that I'm going to bed for the night, so she can leave early. She gives me a grateful smile before making sure I have everything I could need at my bedside.
The moment I hear the door close behind her, I push back the blankets and find my suitcase. I finish packing a few things, grab my keys and make my way to the garage door before thinking better of it. I backtrack to the kitchen and grab a piece of paper.
With tears in my eyes, I write the only thing I can think of that he might possibly understand.
‘I’m sorry, I love you.’
A tear drops down onto the paper as I slip my rings from my finger and place them down on the note.
I suddenly feel very empty but I know it’s the right thing to do. I may never move on and heal from this but at least Tank now has a chance.
I get in my car with tears streaming down my face while I struggle to catch a full breath. Sobs rip through me as I drive to the airport. It’s only a twenty-minute drive but it feels as though it takes a lifetime. I pull into the long-term parking lot and hand my keys over to the valet guy. He helps me grab my suitcase and gives me a sympathetic smile as he notices my red-rimmed eyes.
I thank him and head into the airport. Luckily, I only have to wait an hour before the next scheduled flight leaves for Denver.
I sit at the gate, waiting for my flight and notice the only entertainment the airport has on offer is Tanks game. Excellent. Just what I need. Another reminder of the great man I just left behind.
With nothing left to do and my pure curiosity, I watch the game. As the game goes on, with the Storm winning, as usual, the commentators announce Tank as the new Captain for the season and start listing off his stats and achievements which I have to admit are extremely impressive and surpass those of other players by miles.
The feeling that I’m missing out on a massive day in Tank’s career doesn’t sit well with me and I bet he’s probably feeling it too. He has always loved when I go to his games, even has his little traditions of blowing me a kiss at the start of every game which means today, being his first day as Captain, those traditions don’t get to be put in place.
My flight is called and I make my way onto the plane.
A few hours later, the plane touches down and I wipe away a stray tear. I make my way off the plane, find my luggage and hire a car.
Not long after, I find myself walking up the old familiar driveway dragging my suitcase behind me. I knock on the door and wait patiently for someone to answer it.
“Who the hell would be knocking on the door at this hour?” My dad’s stern voice comes from within.
“Oh, I don’t know, honey. Can you answer it? I’m in my nightgown,” replies my mother.
“What?” my father grunts. “Over my dead body. I just sat down.”
I grin to myself, hearing that familiar banter once again. I hear my mother’s groan as her feet carry her across the old wooden floorboards. “I swear, Robert. One of these days you’re going to find yourself without a woman and you wouldn’t know how to scratch your own ass,” she murmurs as the locks on the door slide out of place.
The door is pulled open and there before me is my mother. Her lips fall into an ‘O’ before she manages to shake off the shock. “Sophie?” she asks. “My god, what are you doing here?” she says as she flies towards me and pulls me into a deep hug.
“Sophie?” I hear my father question as I try my hardest to wriggle out of mum’s tight grip. I mean, I was beaten within an inch of my life not that long ago, some things are still a little fragile.
“My ribs, mum,” I remind her.
“Oh,” she gasps as she instantly drops her arms. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, repeating her question.
I’m just about to answer when my father barges through and collects me in his big arms. “Sophie, girl,” he says with a smile in his voice.
“Be careful, Robert,” my mother scolds. “She’s injured.”
“What?” my father questions as he also drops his arms then steps back to look over me. “Still? That was weeks ago. She looks fine to me.”
I roll my eyes at my parent's banter once again. “Am I going to stand in the doorway all night or can I come in?”
“Oh, of course, dear,” my mother says as she ushers me in.
I grab my suitcase and wheel it through the door so dad can close it behind me. “Where’s that hunky man of yours?” My mother asks as smitten as ever over the said hunky man.
I let out a heavy sigh as I look at her and she sees it in my eyes. Just like that, I don’t have to explain myself, she understand, she always has. “Oh, honey. It will be ok,” she murmurs in t
hat motherly voice that makes me burst into tears.
Mum pulls me into her arms once again as I hear my father grunting behind us. “What the fuck did I just miss?” he asks, making the smallest smile come over my face.
“Oh, Robert. Watch your language,” mum scolds as what sounds like a heard of elephants rushing down the stairs is heard throughout the whole room.
“What’s all the commotion down here?” my little brother, Zac asks as he takes me in.
With a smile, I walk straight up to the loser and wrap my arms around him. “It’s nice to see you too, twat.”
“Ugh,” he groans as he wraps me up in a tight hug. “Get off me.”
I have to roll my eyes at the kid. We’ve always had a love-hate relationship which usually consists of me messing with him. It’s just too fun to pass up on.
“Now, be a darl and take my bag up to my room,” I tell him.
“In your dreams,” he scoffs. “I’m not one of your maids in your big fancy, gated-community, McMansion. Do it yourself.”
I narrow my eyes at him before turning on my father with the puppy dog eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’m so tired.”
He lets out a huff but does it anyway. “I don’t know how you do it, Sophie,” mum says in awe as she takes me by the arm and pulls me towards the kitchen. “Are you hungry? How did you get here? Why didn’t you call? Your father would have picked you up from the airport, you know.”
On and on it goes.
Half an hour later, mum has finally given up on the questions but only as I promised to answer it all tomorrow. Once she is finished fussing about my room, she sends me off to bed with one of her famous hot chocolates and I’m finally left alone.
I go through my luggage and decide it’s probably best for a quick shower. After quickly washing off the day. I pull on my pyjamas and get comfortable in bed. A soft knock is heard at the door before my brother pokes his head in. “What do you want, grommet?” I question.
He leans against the door frame as he studies me. “What are you really doing here, Soph?” he asks.
Kings of Denver Page 9
