Steele

by Bennett, Sawyer

Ella’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want to pull her into my arms. By how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly.

  When she glances back up, there’s anger in her eyes. It’s obvious she doesn’t accept this at all. “I should have expected this was coming. That things were just a little too good to be true. Or permanent for that matter.”

  “That’s not fair, Ella,” I chastise softly, hoping I can maybe get her out of her pique with some gentle words.

  “Why not?” she exclaims, throwing her arms out wide. “It’s just another example of how your team is more important than me.”

  This isn’t fair of her to say, but I don’t call her out again. Instead, I say, “That’s not true. You’re more important than anything else.”

  There’s a gleam in her eye as she challenges me. “So then call your coach and tell him you have other plans.”

  “I can’t, and you know it.” I inhale, then let it out slowly as I try to reason with her. “You know there are some things I just can’t decline. It’s part of my job. And I get I made some bad choices where I did put hockey before you. I also screwed some things up with Lucy by not having my priorities right. But this is different—it’s mandatory and necessary for my job. It’s not like I’m choosing to play extra hockey with my buds. I’m required to go in.”

  Ella steps toward me, head tipped back and hands on her hips. Eyes flashing with a fury I think has gotten beyond her control, she says, “Well, maybe it’s your career as a whole I can’t handle. Maybe I’m tired of you being gone, missing important events, and having to disappoint me because your job demands it.”

  “You’ve accepted it for years,” I remind her, keeping my voice level.

  “Are you sure I accepted it?” she taunts, and that gives me pause. Has she been living a lie this whole time, unhappy in our marriage because of my job itself?

  I shake my head, not even able to consider that right now. “Ella, there are plenty of jobs that require parents and spouses to be away from their loved ones. Military personnel leave for months at a time. ER physicians work Christmas days, and they can’t watch their kids open presents.”

  Ella’s mouth parts slightly, and she lifts her arms in exaggerated surprise. “Well, that makes everything better.” She then crowds in on me, and the anger in her voice slices deep. “Except you aren’t protecting our country and saving lives, Jim. You’re skating on a sheet of ice chasing a piece of plastic, for fuck’s sake.”

  And, now I’m angry. “My job might not be as important as soldiers and doctors, but it’s done a great job of providing a good life, funding our retirement, and ensuring Lucy can go to any school in the world she wants.”

  Ella’s lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming. “Why, thank you, Jim,” she snarls sarcastically. “I’ll just go withdraw big piles of cash from the bank and when I’m lonely at night, I’ll cuddle with it in bed.”

  “Cheap shot, Ella,” I retort.

  “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, Steele?” she sneers, using the name that most in the hockey world refer to me as.

  Ella averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

  “What do you want to do about us?” I demand because I think this is all boiling down to her inability to see past the harms I’ve caused in the past, and loading them up on this one responsibility that I have and cannot shirk.

  “I don’t know,” she says softly. “I just don’t know.”

  She turns her back on me, and it’s clear she’s disconnected from the conversation.

  With a sigh, I move to the door. Before I open it, though, I turn back and say, “I cannot decline Coach’s request to come in, Ella. I have to do it. But if my hockey career truly causes you so much unhappiness—”

  Ella spins. “Then it’s best we just go our separate ways?”

  “No,” I say softly, shaking my head sadly. “I’ll give it up. I’ll quit as soon as they can find a suitable replacement. Or I’ll retire at the end of the season if that’s acceptable. I’ll choose you.”

  Ella’s expression becomes alarmed, and she opens her mouth.

  I cut her off, holding my hand up. “I’m sorry I have to cancel. Think about what you want me to do for our future, but, for now, I have to go.”

  I spin on my heel and walk out the door, afraid to even glance back at Ella. If she were to show the slightest bit of emotion or tears, I might be tempted to call Coach and tell him I can’t make it.

  But I also realize I’m doing the right thing for my team. In this one instance, I have to ask Ella to take a backseat. I can only hope at some point, she’ll realize that, too.

  Regardless, I won’t let her sit on any indecision. She’ll either accept my career and the times I’ll have to be called away, with my assurances she’ll always be my first choice in all other situations, or she’ll ask me to retire.

  Or she just might say we should go our separate ways.

  After all, that was a reasonable choice for her six months ago.

  As I get in my car and drive away, I feel sick to my stomach knowing my future is up in the air right now.

  And there’s not a fucking thing I can do to control the outcome.

  CHAPTER 18

  Ella

  “I’m home, Mom,” Lucy yells as she bursts in the front door. I’m in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a stir-fry dinner.

  Brody is lying by my feet, and his head rises with interest as he hears Lucy bounding up the stairs as she normally does upon arriving home.

  Brody at my feet in the kitchen is a constant source of terror for me. I’ve tripped over him probably a dozen times this past week, and I’m terrified I’m going to hurt him.

  Regardless of my fumble footing over his little furry body, he still likes to be near me when Lucy is gone.

  That will change as soon as Lucy comes back down, where she’ll take him out back and romp around with him for a while.

  It takes her no time at all to stow her bag in her room before she’s running back down the stairs. She comes to a sliding stop in the kitchen next to me, then plops a kiss on my cheek. “Hi, Mom. Bye, Mom.”

  And with that, she grabs up Brody, who is now jumping on her legs in excitement, and heads into the backyard. The minute I hear the door close, my shoulders slump and tears well up in my eyes. I wipe them away, sick of crying.

  It’s all I’ve been doing since Jim left earlier after a huge fight that feels like it left an insurmountable chasm between us. I had texted Lucy at school to inform her that something came up with the team, so Jim and I had to cancel our trip. I gave her a choice if she still wanted to stay at her friend’s house. To my surprise, she said she wanted to come home.

  On one hand, I was glad, knowing her presence would make the emotional loneliness I was feeling so much better. But I was also afraid I’d break down into a sobbing mess in front of her, and that’s something I just don’t do with my child. I’m the strong one, and I don’t like her seeing me vulnerable.

  I finish a batch of broccoli, scraping it from my chopping board into a large silver bowl, and start on a julienne of the carrots. My mind can’t seem to stop replaying our fight and the flush of guilt I feel every time I think about it tells me that I said some really awful things.

  I hurt my husband, no doubt.

  But damn it… I’m hurt, too.

  And yes, realistically, I know Jim is just doing his job, but I think my expectations had been built up so high over the last few weeks that when I was finally let down—regardless of whose fault it was—I wasn’t able to take the tumble without feeling the hurt in every square inch of my heart.

  The door flies open again, and Lucy comes back in. “Brody was such a good boy. Practically dropped on command to pee and poop.”

  I smile
, not turning to face her. I’m sure my eyes are red and my face blotchy. I smile even more when I hear her praising the puppy in a sing-songy baby talk voice rich with an affirmative tone. “Who’s the goodest boy, ever? You are—that’s who. Brody, the best pupper in the whole world.”

  God, my kid is awesome, and she’s done an amazing job with Brody. She’s also so kind and caring with him, and it warms my soul that she has such a way with animals.

  “Not going to be long before we have to take him back,” I remind her softly, feeling my eyes start to mist again. Not just about my fight with Jim, but in preparation for handling my daughter’s heartbreak over relinquishing Brody.

  “I know,” she says glumly. “But he has a duty to fulfill. Don’t you boy?”

  I still don’t dare look back, but I can imagine her on the floor, giving him belly rubs.

  Coughing to clear my throat of any emotion, I say, “Your dad and I are going to get you a dog. We think you’ve earned the right.”

  There’s silence before Lucy lets out a squeal that has me practically jumping out of my skin. Next thing I know, she’s flung herself on me from behind, arms around my neck, and nearly strangling me in a hug.

  “Luce,” I gasp, and she loosens her hold.

  “Thank you so much, Mommy,” she exclaims, and my heart warms. She rarely calls me mommy anymore, but it’s the sweetest word ever.

  “Thank your dad, too,” I say softly, a twinge hitting me dead center. Whenever that may be—perhaps on her next custodial visit with him?

  “I will,” she replies exuberantly, releasing her hold on me. She leans over the bowl, snags a piece of broccoli, and asks, “Why did Dad have to go to the arena anyway? They don’t have a game until Wednesday.”

  Lucy moves to the adjacent counter, leaning a hip against it. I keep my head bowed over the vegetables, still having managed to keep my face averted from her. I try to sound lighthearted. “Oh, well… Dax Monahan is injured, and your dad is going to move up to the first line. So he had to do some drills with the other guys. Now, how about you go upstairs and get washed up for dinner?”

  Lucy ignores my request, which is fine because dinner is more than an hour away. Still, she now gets overexcited once again, moving in closer to me. “Dad’s moving to the first line? Oh my God… that’s freaking amazing. I mean, I love Dax and he’s a great player, but Dad is just as good. He deserves the shot, and I bet he’ll be so good they ask him to stay on the first line.”

  I listen with half an ear as Lucy rambles on and on about the greatness of her father, and every word is true. He’s a phenomenal player, an incredible leader, and deserves any shot upward he can get.

  “Mom?” Lucy asks, and her voice seems far away. “Mom.”

  I startle, returning to cutting carrots. “Yeah… what’s up, baby?”

  “Look at me,” she demands, and my shoulders tense.

  “What?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed. “I’m busy cutting.”

  “Look at me,” she says again, this time exasperation in her voice.

  I refuse to turn her way, feeling my eyes mist again. Damn it.

  And then Lucy’s at my side, peering around. My gaze meets hers, and she reels back in alarm. “You’re crying. Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not,” I assure her with a laugh, but it comes out all watery sounding as my eyes fill up again. “Damn it.”

  Lucy automatically reaches for a paper towel, tearing it free to hand me. She takes the knife from my hand and sets it in the sink, then puts her hands on my shoulders to force me to turn and face her.

  It’s at this moment I realize my little girl isn’t so little anymore.

  “Mom.” Her voice is ever so gentle, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to let it affect me. “Please… what’s wrong?”

  “Noth—” I start to say.

  “Mom,” Lucy barks, and my mouth snaps shut. “Tell me what’s wrong. And if you don’t, I’m calling Dad. You’re starting to freak me out.”

  “No,” I blurt out, shaking my head. “Don’t call your dad.”

  “But—”

  “Your dad is the reason I’m crying,” I admit so she doesn’t run off to get him involved.

  Lucy narrows her eyes, and I see a flash of ire in them. “What has he done?”

  My eyes fill with tears, and I shake my head. “Nothing. He didn’t do anything.”

  “Then why are you crying?” she asks in frustration. “Because you aren’t a crier. I hardly ever see you cry. Not even when you and dad separated.”

  She’d be wrong about that. I bawled my eyes out for several nights, but always in my room in private after Lucy had gone to sleep—deep into my pillow so no sounds carried.

  I use the paper towel to dab at my eyes before gesturing toward the living room. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

  Lucy pivots, scoops up Brody, who has been curiously watching our conversation, and heads toward the couch. We sit close to each other, and she puts Brody in the center. We both put our hands to his fur, idly stroking him. He has no training yet on how to bring calm and peace to someone who needs it, but clearly, he’s providing that to us now.

  “Your dad came over to tell me about having to cancel our trip to the Ritz tonight, and well… I um… acted like a crazy woman.”

  Lucy’s mouth drops open. “No way. You’re like the calmest, most rational person I know.”

  “I know,” I lament, furious with myself for getting so upset. “But I was so excited about this trip, and it was such a letdown.”

  Voice incredibly droll, she says, “It was an overnight stay in a hotel, Mom. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

  Oh, to be young and not understand love. I decide to educate her. “I was excited about it because I’d decided to ask your dad to come back home. To be a family again.”

  Lucy’s jaw almost unhinges as she gapes in surprise, but then her expression softens as her lips peel into a smile. “That’s great, Mom. I mean, holy cow, I’ve been dying for this to happe—”

  “Not sure it’s going to,” I cut in, sniffing at the prickles starting in my nose now. “I got really angry at your dad over him canceling. I mean, deep down… I knew it wasn’t his fault, but all of my old hurts just came gushing to the surface. I said some mean, awful and horrible things. I mean, I felt like I was being pushed aside again and I couldn’t control my temper.”

  “Mom,” Lucy draws out. “You do know Dad didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, of course, I do,” I assure her, although it took me a few hours after he left to admit that. “But I couldn’t stop the anger. All that hurt I’ve been suffering for years just came bubbling back up. I couldn’t see reason.”

  “But you do now?” she asks hesitantly.

  I shrug. “Maybe. Yes. I mean… I don’t know. Rationally, I know your dad had no choice. This is his job, and he had to uphold his duty to the team. But as we were fighting, I blurted something out to him that’s made me wonder how deep my hurt really goes.”

  Lucy stares, head tilted for an explanation. I wonder briefly if I’m doing a disservice to my thirteen-year-old by unburdening, but then disregard that worry. Lucy is a bright, intelligent, empathetic teenager. She wants me and her dad to work more than anyone. If there’s going to be a bit of positivity that I might need, it will come from my daughter.

  “In the heat of anger, I told him that maybe I didn’t like his whole career, not just the little times he’s let us down when hockey was more important.”

  “And do you really feel that way? As we’re sitting here now, do you hate what he does for a living?”

  I don’t answer her directly. Instead, I share her dad’s offer. “He said he’d quit after they found a replacement for him, or retire at the end of the year, if that’s what I wanted.”

  Lucy gasps, horrified. “And what did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything. I was so shocked he said that I couldn’t think of anything to say. And then he just walked out.
”

  “Oh, wow,” Lucy murmurs, and then to my shock, she leans back against the cushion and starts laughing.

  I glare. “What’s so funny?”

  Mirth in her expression, she says, “It’s just… Dad just offered you the world. Now I think it’s a stupid offer. He’s still got a lot of great years left to play hockey. Without a doubt, I know you’d never take that away from him. But I find it just a wee bit funny that instead of being totally charmed and blown away by his offer, you are sitting here crying with indecision and self-loathing over the way you acted. Ironic, right?”

  I blink at my daughter.

  And blink a few more times.

  “When the hell did you get to be so adult-like with the wisdom?” I mutter.

  She shrugs. “I’m a good judge of character and situations. I learned that from you, Mom.”

  “So what do I do?” I ask, feeling like the thirteen-year-old and looking at Lucy for motherly advice.

  “Okay,” she says, turning slightly on the cushion to look at me directly. “Point blank… let me ask you this… do you want Dad to quit hockey?”

  “No,” I reply instantaneously, not needing to think about it. She’s right… I’d never ask him to give it up. Now, if I thought it would make me unhappy, I’d walk, but I truly don’t believe his career as a whole is the problem.

  “Do you believe you and I are Dad’s number-one priorities?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say again with surety, but then take a moment to realize I’m surprised by how easy that came out. But that surprise doesn’t last long as I remember… that was the whole point of my excitement in going to the Ritz tonight. I was going to tell Jim I wanted him back.

  “Oh, boy,” I mutter, slouching on the couch and rubbing so furiously at Brody’s belly he starts to make groaning noises of pleasure. “I owe your dad a really big apology.”

  Lucy’s face scrunches up as she nods. “Yeah… I think you do.”

  For the first time in what seems like forever, I smile.

  Aiming it at my daughter, I feel a little bit lighter. “How about you help me whip up some dinner? If you’re okay to stay here alone, I’m going to go see your dad.”