19. Mira
19
MIRA
This can't be happening.
I look from Zane to Aiden's therapist like one of them is going to rip open their shirts and reveal they're wearing a wire. The other will probably start pointing out hidden cameras.
"Really?" Zane asks, looking from the therapist to me with the exact same expression.
He can't believe it, either.
Dr. Turner chuckles. "You two look shocked. Is anything going on with Aiden at home that I should know about?"
"No, he's been great," Zane says.
"Perfect," I echo. "Absolutely perfect."
Everything has been perfect. For weeks.
Which is why I have every last one of my guards up.
In my experience, times like this are usually when life decides to remind me of the pecking order. Just when I think things are hunky dory, I find myself under a piano on the pavement.
"Well, great." Dr. Turner clicks her pen closed and leans back in her chair. "I concur. And that's my official, professional opinion."
A wide smile spreads across Zane's face, but he still circles a finger in the air. "You're gonna have to hit me with that all good news again, Doc, or I'm gonna swear I made this up."
"Aiden is doing exceptionally well," she repeats slowly. "He's improved leaps and bounds from where he started, especially where it concerns processing negative emotions. Even during the little hiccup last month, Aiden continued talking to me. He could express himself. And that's because you've created a home where he feels safe."
Zane lets out a choked kind of laugh and I reach over and grab his knee. He instantly folds his fingers around mine, taking my hand instead. "I know he's doing well. I can see it. I guess I just expected to be the only one."
"Then I'm happy to prove you wrong," Dr. Turner says. "Anyone who spends any time with Aiden must be able to see how happy he is in your home. You're doing a great job with him, Zane." She shifts her focus to me. "Aiden speaks highly of you, too, Mira."
My heart squeezes.
I was Aiden's "hiccup" last month. The reason his progress dipped at all is because I left him. I have no idea how to make sense of the joy and the fear mingling inside of me at that realization. Do I get credit for helping to solve a problem I created?
Nothing about Zane seems conflicted. He is beaming as he thanks Dr. Turner and then leads me out of her office with a hand on my lower back.
"Well?" I breathe as we walk down the hallway towards the waiting room. I have half a mind to glance up at the ceiling. Any baby grands suspended up there by thin, fraying ropes?
"Well." Zane turns to me. "What are you thinking?"
I'm not sure if he's asking me for my one truth of the day or not, but I give it to him anyway. "I'm thinking I'm glad I didn't mess Aiden up."
"You?" he snorts. "You made everything better. I'm glad I didn't mess him up. Part of me expected her to look me in my face and tell me I was a fuck-up."
I grab his arm and pull him to a stop. "You don't think that, do you? That you're a fuck-up? Because you're not. You're amazing with Aiden."
"I think Aiden is amazing, and I happen to be around." He shrugs. "I feel like I've barely done anything. He's just… He's the best."
Emotion presses at the backs of my eyes. "He really is. But so are you. Dr. Turner said so."
"All I heard is that Aiden struggled when you weren't around." Zane curls a hand around my jaw and strokes his thumb over my cheek. "So did I. And it was my fault. I sent you away."
"You did what you needed to do for Aiden. Because you're a good dad. I don't blame you for that."
As the words come out of my mouth, I realize exactly how true they are. I always understood why Zane asked me to leave, but some part of me still hung onto it as a reason not to get too comfortable here.
He could change his mind about you . Don't let yourself count on this.
But it's too late. I'm comfortable. Stay-here-forever, never-want-to-leave kind of comfortable.
Before I can say any of that, a little head pokes around the end of the hallway. "Daddy!"
Aiden comes tearing down the hall and Evan appears behind him. "Sorry. He heard your voices. I couldn't keep him contained."
We all know Evan could keep him contained if he wanted to, but people have a way of giving Aiden exactly what he wants. It's hard not to—he deserves the world.
"What are we doing now?" Aiden bounces and Zane scoops him up, cuddling him tight.
"I think you're heading home with Evan and Mira. I have to go back to work, bud."
Aiden throws his arms around Zane's neck. "I want to come with you!"
"You'd get bored. And Mira would have to sit in the stands with you. You'd have more fun at home."
Aiden frowns. "No, I wouldn't! Please, Daddy!"
Zane looks to me, a question in his eyes, and I shrug. "I don't mind watching you play. It could be fun."
"I'll tag along," Evan offers. "In case he changes his mind and wants to come home. Plus, I wouldn't mind catching the Angels in practice."
"You all might be bored out of your mind, but…" Zane shifts Aiden up onto his shoulders. "Let's go."
I don't know how anyone could be bored watching this.
Zane looks amazing out there, and not just because he's tall and broad and he keeps grinning up at where we're sitting in the stands. He's in complete control of every part of his body. I'd look like a newborn giraffe on ice, but Zane is running drills like he could do them in his sleep.
He skates through the obstacles like they aren't even there and fires off a vicious shot. Cole has blocked everything that's come at him for the last half-hour, except for Zane's shots.
Yet again, the puck rips the back of the net.
"Come on!" Cole complains. "You're making us look bad out here, man."
I would have to disagree. Zane looks very, very good.
"Yay, Daddy!" Aiden jumps up and down on the bleachers. Zane tosses him a thumbs up, and Aiden grins.
I love them.
The thought has found its way to the forefront of my mind more and more often lately. It's turning into a second heartbeat. Something vital to my day-to-day life.
I love them.
Zane has been so sure for weeks now that this thing with us is going to go the distance, but I'm not at all used to getting what I want. It's taken every second of the last few weeks—every kiss, every tear, every drop of sweat shed during kickboxing—for me to even begin to believe that I might get my happy ending.
I love them more than anything.
And I need to tell Zane.
After a few more drills, the men shove the obstacles to the side of the rink and start goofing off. Half of the team is in the weight room, so the ice is relatively clear when Zane calls up to us. "Want to come down, A?"
I've never seen Aiden move so fast in my life. He bounds down the bleachers and Jace is at the boards waiting for him. He lifts Aiden onto the ice and then holds his shoulders as he skates him over to Zane.
There's a smaller rink on the back of the building where kids can take ice skating lessons, and someone comes from that direction with a pair of rentable skates for Aiden.
As soon as Aiden is skated-up and on his feet, the professional hockey players turn into children. I can see exactly what they must have been like at eight and ten and twelve, playing hockey and learning to love the game. They all take turns helping Aiden with his skating and shooting the puck.
A few of Aiden's shots go wide, and I can tell he's getting upset. His little shoulders slouch and he hangs his head.
Zane skates over and kneels in front of him. He pushes the stick back in Aiden's hand and walks him through a few practice swings before it's time for Aiden to try again.
"You got this, Aiden!" I cheer from the stands.
My voice echoes more than I thought it would and my face burns. But Aiden stands a little taller, so I don't care. I'll be that hockey mom if I have to.
Aiden lines up the puck and gives it his best swing.
It almost looks like a slow motion replay. The puck bumps and skitters over the ice so slowly, I'm not sure it's going to make it. But when it gets close, Cole makes a big show of diving for it a full foot ahead of where it is. The puck comes to a slow stop in the middle of the net… and the rink goes wild.
Evan and I clap and cheer as the men on the rink take turns skating Aiden around on their shoulders, hooting and hollering.
"I did it!" Aiden shouts when he gets close enough for me to hear. "I scored!"
Nathan is taking his lap with Aiden when the doors at the far end of the rink open. I can see the rest of the team waiting just outside in the hall, but it's Coach Popov who blasts through the doors.
"Whitaker!" he roars. He's so mad that he almost forgets he isn't wearing skates and steps onto the ice. He grabs the boards for balance and hooks a finger at Zane. "We need to talk. Now!"
A hush falls over the rink. When Zane makes it to his coach, everyone in the room can hear every word.
"When were you going to tell me the good news?" he growls with vicious sarcasm. "When was I going to get let in on the secret, eh?"
I swear I see a piano-shaped shadow around me.
Zane shakes his head. "I don't have a secret."
Coach Popov snorts. "No, I guess it isn't a secret anymore. Maybe congratulations are in order. Have you already signed the contract?"
"What are you talking about?" Zane leans in, probably in an effort to get his coach to lower his voice.
"I'm talking about you abandoning this team and moving halfway across the goddamn country," his coach barks. "I'm talking about you talking to the scout from Detroit!"