Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

TRAVIS

Bleary-eyed, Travis blinked slowly, feeling exhausted. He lay there in his bed, staring at the window that looked out from his bedroom over the five-acre property where he lived north of Fort Worth and cursed softly. It was the day before another big game, which meant he needed to get his body ready for the abuse it was about to take. He practiced all the time, but pregame and game day were slightly different – a little more intense. Every joint ached as he crawled out of bed, feeling it in his bones and wincing.

He loved hockey, but it didn’t love him back.

I’m barely thirty-two years old, he thought painfully as he stretched, and I feel like I’m eighty. His muscles were tight from practice yesterday, and he heard his uncle moving around downstairs.

This had been his uncle’s place, and it still was, but Travis lived on the top floor and paid the entire thing off with his first endorsement check just to keep from having to live downtown. He wanted the privacy of living outside of the city, and this place gave him the ability to find a little peace in his world while investing heavily, so when the day came and he couldn’t do this gig anymore, Travis would be set for life.

“Man, that day feels closer and closer sometimes,” he uttered and winced as his knee twinged as if to say ‘ Hello! Remember me? ’ .

Moving slowly, he stretched each muscle, staring out the panoramic window overlooking a grove of mesquite trees, cacti, and the outbuilding where the two men stored their ‘toys.’ A fancy riding mower, a pair of jet skis, a boat, and other goodies.

“Travis, ya’ up, kiddo?”

“Yup, Uncle Davy,” he called out, stretching his quads once more behind closed doors. His bedroom had a seating area that had been converted into his own little home ‘trauma’ center. He even had an ice bath dunk tank just outside on the balcony.

He had all sorts of exercise balls, bands, and a ballet bar built in here so he could stretch without being gawked at like he was some weirdly masculine ballerina. Before he signed with the Coyotes, he used to go to a gym and workout – but now, between the media and endorsements, his privacy was something he treasured. He worked out here, at the clubhouse, and then again on the ice.

Groaning, Travis jerked on some pajama pants and headed downstairs to join his uncle. The two got along famously after reconnecting at his father’s funeral. It was strange how certain things affected a family. You grew apart over time, people lost track of each other, but one tragedy could bring out the best or the worst in people – and he was lucky that it had brought out some of the best moments.

“Game day tomorrow, eh, kiddo?”

“Yup,” he chuckled. “Are you coming?”

“Love to,” the man grinned. “You know there’s nothing healthier than seeing your favorite nephew get in a fistfight on the ice every three minutes… but I’m proud of you. You still have all your teeth.”

“It was close there a few times.”

“You know you don’t have to get in a fight every game – and Thierry isn’t helping things with that mouth of his.”

“Gerry isn’t so bad,” Travis began and then nearly choked on his breakfast as he and his uncle shared a look. “Theo’s temper eggs him on. ”

“Agreed. Eat up, kiddo,” he urged, pushing the bowl of scrambled eggs toward him and Travis swallowed the lump in his throat. Gosh, he was so tired of simple proteins, vegetables, slow-acting carbs, and watching everything he ate. Maybe he was getting burnt out – or maybe this life just didn’t interest him anymore like it did when he was younger.

Ten years ago, at twenty-two, Travis thought he knew it all. Staying out until three in the morning, vomiting up whatever he’d eaten, slugging down a ton of water and salt tablets, combined with a ton of fattening things, seemed to get him through it all. He didn’t ask for names, or phone numbers and didn’t even care what those faceless women looked like. It was like he pretended to be invincible, and truthfully - he had never felt so bad physically or mentally in his life.

Wrapping his Porsche around a telephone pole, nearly killing himself, and being finally scared straight had changed his outlook entirely. He ate right, took care of his body, and focused on what it would be like to have a future, a family, and what would his father have said. Yeah, a lot of soul-searching happened during his brief stint in the hospital, for which he was really lucky to have a second chance to do something productive with his life.

“Guess what I found,” his uncle said, interrupting his thoughts as he shoveled a scoop of watermelon, cantaloupe, and strawberries into a bowl and slid it toward him, too. “A 1955 Bel Air that’s been restored and modified.”

“You want it – buy it, Uncle Davy. You know I’ll cover you. You always have my back and take care of me. Let me take care of you.”

“You already bought me the Savoy.”

“Because it was beautiful,” Travis grinned, spearing a piece of watermelon before sneaking a slice of bacon off his uncle’s plate. “And it looks nice next to my Blazer.”

“You could have bought a brand-new Blazer for what you paid.”

“I love that big ol’ monster,” Travis chuckled. “Orange Crush is perfect for towing the boat or the jet skis, and you know it. They just don’t make them like that, you know? I’ll happily go without Bluetooth, and an airbag to have a massive, big-block engine like my Crush has.”

“It looks like a rust-bucket.”

“Because I like the patina and refuse to get her repainted,” he countered his uncle’s skeptical comment. “Besides, I’ve had sleek and beautiful – I’d rather have what makes me happy than buy what society thinks I should be driving, especially when it gives me a backache sitting in those bucket seats.”

“You are the only person I know who would pass on getting another Porsche – and purchase a 1972 four-by-four Blazer with brown leather seats.”

“I’m unique,” Travis grinned – only to have his uncle ruffle his hair like he was a child all over again, before patting him on the back.

“You really are, kiddo. I hope you never change.”

An hour later, Travis was pulling into the private parking garage and ended his phone call feeling better than he did earlier. He’d gotten Becca’s text message, but had fallen asleep after a grueling practice. Placing another order to surprise her, wanting to make her feel special, he texted her once more before going inside to warm up.

Hey Becca – I’m so glad you liked the flowers and sorry I missed your text.

I was exhausted after practice. Coach had us doing drills for nearly four hours, and I collapsed into bed. Today is another hard practice because we have a game tomorrow, so I might not be near my phone, but I will text you back. I prom ise!

He texted her a photo, holding up two fingers and smiling. Yeah, it was nice to have his own teeth, unlike a few of the other guys who caught a puck to the face.

I can’t wait for Friday.