Knox: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance

by Brenda Rothert

  On the drive to my parents’ house, I’m torn between wanting to get there badly and wishing I didn’t have to face what I’ll find when I get there. Messages are starting to show up on my phone from friends asking why I’m not playing in the game that’s in progress now. The announcers said I had a family emergency, and all the nosy bastards I know want to know what it is.

  I shut my phone off. I don’t have the energy for that shit right now.

  When I walk into my parents’ house, the outside lights are on, but it’s dark and quiet inside. There’s a dim light back in the kitchen, so I go there.

  My parents’ friends Dave and Melissa are putting food out on the kitchen island.

  “Knox,” Melissa says, “You’re here.”

  I look between her and Dave. “Is he…?”

  “He’s still hanging on,” Dave assures me. “Your mom and two hospice nurses are in with him.”

  I breathe a massive sigh of relief. “Thank God. Is my sister here yet?”

  “She should be here within an hour,” Melissa says.

  I nod. “I need to go be with my parents.”

  “Of course.” Melissa takes my hand into both of hers, her cheeks tear-stained. “We’ll be here for anything you guys need.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

  I set my coat and phone on a chair and make the long walk back to my parents’ bedroom. I haven’t spent much time in this house, because they just bought it a few years ago, but there are family photos everywhere. It’s like a movie of my dad’s life, and it’s nearing a sad ending.

  As soon as I walk into the bedroom, my mom lets out a sob and gets up from the chair she’s sitting in beside my dad’s bed. I have to remind myself not to fall apart. My mom is losing her husband and best friend. She’s never needed me as much as she needs me now.

  “How is he?” I ask after hugging her.

  “He’s comfortable.” She smiles sadly. “He took a really bad turn overnight. He’s been sedated since this morning.”

  One of the nurses tells us they’ll be back soon and then looks at the other one, signaling that they need to leave so we can have time alone with Dad. There are several chairs pulled up around his bed, and Mom and I sit down next to each other.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “He was adamant that you not miss games, but this time…I’m glad you didn’t listen.”

  My dad looks much worse than he did when I last saw him, and it wasn’t that long ago. All his bones are prominently showing, and there’s no way he weighs more than a hundred pounds. He’s laboring for every breath he takes. There’s no resemblance to the tall, broad NHL star he used to be.

  My mom seems to read my thoughts.

  “I didn’t call anyone but you and Faith and Dave and Melissa,” she says. “I know the aunts and uncles and cousins would have come, but I didn’t want anyone else seeing him like that. He wouldn’t have wanted it.”

  “You’re right.”

  She takes my dad’s bony hand in hers and says, “You mentioned you were seeing someone when you were here last time. Reese? How’s she doing?”

  “She’s good,” I say, not wanting to mention our fight. “Really good.”

  “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you so happy. You remind me so much of your dad when he was your age.”

  The door to the room opens, and Faith walks in. After more hugs and tears, the three of us sit down by his bed for the last family gathering we’ll ever have.

  Chapter Twenty

  Reese

  I have to read the news headline a second time before it sets in.

  Hockey Legend Drake Deveraux Dies at 66

  But that’s Knox’s father…isn’t it? I remember him telling me that his dad was a hockey player and that his name was Drake. I read more of the article and discover that he is, in fact, Knox’s father, and that he was battling colon cancer for the past several months.

  Part of me wants to call him immediately. My heart is broken for the man I’m in love with. But another part is so hurt that he never told me that I can’t bring myself to talk to him.

  How could he keep something so important from me? I wouldn’t have given him the silent treatment—or even have gotten into that fight with him—if I’d known his dad was so sick.

  “Are you sure I can’t take you to the airport?” my friend Gabe asks as he returns to our table after going to the bathroom.

  I set my phone down. “No, I’m good. Already called an Uber.”

  “I’m so glad you came, Reese.” He gives me an affectionate look and I feel uncomfortable for about the hundredth time since I got here yesterday.

  Gabe always had a thing for me in culinary school, but I made it clear I wasn’t interested. And from the time I got here, he’s been acting like I came to see him and not because of the job opening.

  “Thanks so much for the tour of your restaurant and for spending so much time going over the plans for the new place with me,” I say, getting up from my seat at the coffee shop across from my hotel, where we had breakfast.

  “Of course. I’d love for you to come on board. I know we can do great things together.”

  Ugh. Even though I know Gabe doesn’t want to give me this job for strictly professional reasons, his new venture sounds amazing. It’s backed by a billionaire and will provide job training for hundreds of homeless people every year. All the proceeds from the restaurant side will help support the shelter side.

  As I watched a presentation on the project yesterday, I kept asking myself what if this could become self-sustaining? What if we could build a model other communities can use, where it doesn’t take a billionaire to make something like this happen?

  I want to try. It was by a fluke of Magnolia donating food to the Women’s Mission that I discovered my passion for helping homeless and abused women build better lives for themselves, but now, it’s all I want to do.

  “So, you’ll let me know?” Gabe asks me as I look out the window for my Uber.

  “Yes. Like I said, I’m interested. Very interested, but I can’t commit just yet.”

  “Okay. I understand.”

  “I appreciate the offer so much,” I say. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Gabe gives me a wistful look. “You’re sure you can’t stay one more night?”

  “No, I can’t. My boyfriend needs me at home.”

  “Oh.” He looks crushed and I almost feel bad, but I never gave him any reason to think I had any interest.

  “There’s my Uber,” I say, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “Thanks again, Gabe.”

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

  I pull my suitcase behind me, wrestling with it as I try to get it through the coffee shop door. My Uber driver makes no effort to help me with it, either. He looks stoned.

  On the ride to the airport, I turn my phone over and over in my hand, wanting to reach out to Knox. He texted last night and said we need to talk. I was planning to call him this morning and ask if he could meet up with me as soon as my flight lands.

  But now that I know about his dad, everything feels different. I don’t feel like his trusted confidant anymore. And even though I just called him my boyfriend to Gabe, I don’t feel like much of a girlfriend to him.

  Relationships are about getting through the good and the bad together. But if Knox won’t share his bad stuff with me, I can’t be there for him. If I confront him with this, I feel like he’ll throw it back in my face that I didn’t tell him about New York. But it’s two totally different things.

  I can’t confront him about anything, anyway. He has to be devastated about his dad. My eyes well with tears as I remember him talking about his dad in Kauai. He spoke with such pride.

  “I haven’t loved very many people in my life.”

  His words outside my apartment the last time we spoke echo in my mind, and in my heart. I blink and tears spill onto my cheeks. Knox loves hard. I want more than anything to put my arms around h
im right now.

  I’m completely torn. Torn between being with Knox and taking the job in New York. Torn between letting myself fall completely in love with Knox and guarding my heart from the unknown.

  There won’t be another man in my life like Knox. I know that. Not in Chicago, not in New York, not in the entire world. He rescued me that day in Kauai, but he also did so much more. He healed me and listened to me. He doesn’t just let me be unapologetically me, he wants me to be. He told me he loved me after we got into a fight that was, if I’m being honest, my fault.

  I can’t stop replaying us in my mind. His words, my laughter, our adventures, both big and small. His love of peanut butter in all its forms. The way he told off my ex in a way that made me feel more loved than anyone or anything ever has.

  “Hey lady, we’re here.”

  The Uber driver is glaring at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  I open my car door, grab my suitcase and lug it out onto the sidewalk, resolving not to tip the driver.

  Should I call Knox, or should I wait? Maybe I should text.

  But what would I say? Hey, I saw on CNN that you lost your father?

  No. Painful as it is, I’m not reaching out to him right now. If he wanted me to be there with him and his family, he would have told me so.

  Dragging my suitcase through the airport doors, I sigh softly. All I can do at this point is wait.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Knox

  It’s actually a relief to board a flight to Boston so I can meet up with my team for tonight’s game. My Aunt Meredith has been with my mom for three days now, since the day after my dad died, and she’s staying as long as my mom needs her.

  As awful as it was when he slipped away early in the morning the day after Faith and I got there, it was peaceful. All four of us were together and he went without pain. His suffering is over now.

  I did my best to keep busy during the days that followed, because I’m not good at sitting around talking. Dad didn’t want a regular funeral service, so his body is being cremated and we’ll hold a celebration of life service for him in about a month. I cleaned out his closet and donated nearly all of his clothes to charity so Mom wouldn’t have to do it. Faith and I also went through the family photo albums and chose some pictures for the celebration of life service because we thought it might be painful for our mom.

  The first day, I fielded phone calls on my parents’ landline. Friends, neighbors and former teammates’ of my dad kept the phone ringing off the hook. Some wanted to pass on their condolences briefly, but others fished for details and bent my ear with stories about their own ailments. I was glad when Faith offered to take over phone answering duty.

  I turned my phone on a couple of times, but the amount of texts and phone messages from my own friends and teammates was overwhelming. And I never saw the one message I was hoping for—one from Reese.

  She may know about my dad’s death. It’s been on the news. I feel bad she’d find out like that, but his turn for the worse came on fast. The doctors thought Dad would have at least another good month, my mom told me after he passed away.

  As the waves of grief wash over me, Reese is the only person I want to be with. If I could just be with her, I wouldn’t even needs words of comfort. Her presence would be enough.

  I hate that we fought. If I could do it over, I wouldn’t jump all over her about the New York job—wondering if she’s going to accept the job is killing me inside.

  One of the team’s assistant coaches, Matt, picks me up from the airport.

  “Hey, boss,” he says, giving me a hug. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Anton told me to ask if you want to talk about it or not.”

  I sigh wearily. “You mean when we get to the arena? Not really.”

  Matt claps me on the back. “Done. I’ll text and let him know. We’re all thinking of you, so that covers that. We’ll just focus on hockey tonight.”

  “Dad would have wanted it that way,” I say, leaning back against the seat.

  On the drive to the Boston team’s arena, Matt makes small talk about tonight’s game, not caring whether I answer him or not. It’s so damn nice to let go of the sadness over my dad for a little while. People don’t seem to realize how exhausting it is to listen to endless condolences when you’re not sleeping well and you just want to be alone with your family.

  I’m half-listening to him and half thinking of Reese. This silence between us has gone on long enough. When Matt drops me off at the players’ entrance of the arena, I go inside and find a quiet corner, dialing Reese.

  “Knox,” she says, sounding both surprised and relieved.

  “Hi. Are you busy?”

  “Not really, just…let me close the door to my office. I’m at work.” After a second, she says, “Okay…hi.”

  “So…how are you?” I ask.

  “How am I? Knox, you just lost your dad. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks.” I close my eyes and look down at the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he was sick, I just…there’s a lot we need to talk about, and I want to do it in person.”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Tomorrow’s an off day for me. Can I come over to your place?”

  “Sure. I’m caught up here; I can get away for the afternoon. How about 1:00?”

  There’s distance between us that wasn’t there before. Formality. And I hate it.

  “Okay, I’ll see you then,” I say. “And, I miss you.”

  After a pause, she says, “I miss you, too.”

  It’s something. As our call ends and I find a security guard to let me into the visitor’s locker room, I feel a little lighter just from hearing her voice.

  As I enter the locker room, most of the guys ignore me, which is fine by me. Some of them make eye contact and nod, which is all the acknowledgement of the situation I need.

  “Glad you’re back,” Coach Johnson says when he walks by me.

  “Me too.”

  And I am. These guys are my crew. I can’t imagine another team ever feeling like the family I have in this locker room. Players come and go at times, but our core group has been the same for several years now.

  In the back of my mind, though, I’ve started to think about whether I could get management to trade me to New York if Reese decides to move there. I don’t want to leave my team, but I don’t want to lose her, either.

  Which is more important to me? I guess it depends how our conversation tomorrow goes.

  Since the day I first saw Reese a year and a half ago in Kauai, no woman has drawn me in the way she does. She’s got a way of making me feel more—more happy, more passionate, more alive.

  I can’t remember what life was like before I reconnected with her. How do I go back to that?

  “Got everything you need, Knox?” our equipment manager, Chuck, asks me. “I think I brought everything, but just want to be sure.”

  “Yeah, it looks good, man. Thanks.”

  He nods and walks away. It looks like Anton told every single member of our team and its staff that I don’t want to talk about my dad. On a day when I want to save all my energy for the ice, it means a lot. He’s a damn good team captain.

  I’ve got some down time before I have to get dressed for the game. What I really want to do is call or text Reese. That short conversation we had wasn’t nearly enough. I don’t care if we talk about important stuff; I just want to hear her voice.

  But she’s at work, and I should probably focus on pregame stuff, anyway. I put in my headphones and get out my jar of peanut butter from my equipment bag, hoping Twenty One Pilots will get me back in the game zone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Reese

  The moment I open my apartment door and see Knox’s face, I fall apart. His expression is grief stricken, with dark circles beneath his eyes.

  We reach for each other at the same time, and he hol
ds me close, kissing the top of my head and then pressing his cheek to it. I’m crying and he’s crying, but somehow he makes it through the doorway and closes the door behind us.

  I want to be the person who comforts him right now, but after a minute of hugging and crying, I can’t help pulling back and asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He looks down at me forlornly. “I told myself it was never the right time. That I didn’t want to bring any sadness into our relationship. But I realize now that was bullshit. I just didn’t want to…” He swallows hard. “…say the words out loud.”

  Nodding, I try to understand.

  “It’s fucking dumb, I know,” he says. “But until the very end, I had this irrational hope that a new experimental treatment would be found, or that he’d start to get better somehow.”

  I reach up and use the pads of my thumbs to brush the tears from his cheeks before they reach his beard.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says, his expression tortured. “It’s nothing like that at all. I just wanted you to be my escape, I guess. I’m always just happier being around you, and I wanted to keep it that way.”

  I look up at him, sighing softly. “I can see how you’d want that. I went to Switzerland to escape everything even after our brief time in Kauai. But I was alone that time. When you love someone, aren’t you supposed to share the good and the bad with them?”

  “Yeah. I should’ve told you, babe. How did you find out?”

  “Reading the news on my phone.”

  He closes his eyes, looking shamed. “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t even mention he was sick.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone. Lots of people in the hockey world found out other ways, from friends and stuff since Dad was a player. When people found out, they would ask me how bad it was and whether the doctors thought he’d make it.” He looks away, tears shining in his dark eyes. “I hated talking about it.”