Chapter 11

“ H ey, Mom,” I say into the phone, smiling tiredly, not wanting to move too much now that Ted is snuggled up to me for the first time.

The past few weeks have been exhausting, and now, adding in the fact that my husband wants me back and I don’t know what the hell to do about that … I’m unwell.

“Hey, babe. I’ve sent you a few texts about this, but I didn’t want to pester you too much. Did you put any thought into coming home for the big fundraiser for Mr. Wells?”

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “I forgot. I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Wells is the glue that holds my old high school together. Now that he has an aggressive brain tumor that requires extensive treatment, the community wants to show their support for him. Starting with a big banquet of some sort.

“It’s all right. Everyone will understand if you can’t make it,” she says sweetly before pausing. “Kolt is so loved and adored by this town. The church has been praying for him.”

I smile because I know all the people back home love and adore Kolt. He only went to our high school for his junior and senior years, but he was so talented. And given that my dad took him and Klay in, I think the entire community sort of brought them in under their wings.

Suddenly, an idea hits me. Now that Kolt is cleared for most activities, he can easily travel. Which means he’s healthy enough to make the drive back home and go to the fundraiser with me. As long as it’s okay with Coach Jacobs since Kolt planned to start sitting in at practices.

“Paige, are you there?” my mom says, and I sit up in bed. Just like that, the moment with me and Ted is over, and the cat leaps from the bed.

“Just thinking,” I say thoughtfully. “Let me talk to Kolt. He’s doing good, and I bet he’d love to see everyone.”

I cringe because I don’t actually know that for sure. He’s Kolt. And one thing he’s always hated about being a professional athlete is all the attention that goes along with it. But for Mr. Wells, I’m sure he’ll suck it up.

“You know he’s always had a love-hate relationship with Mr. Wells, so he should be at the banquet too.”

“Oh my, you know everyone would freak out if Kolt Kolburne walked through that gym.” She giggles. “If he’s not up for it, I understand. Though I sure hope he is. Mr. Wells would love it.” I can hear the enthusiasm in her voice, and I know she’s going to take this idea and run with it. “How is everything going there? I’m so happy to hear Kolt is doing well.”

I debate not saying anything, and I also consider telling her everything. But I know my mom, and she’s going to get excited if she knows there’s any chance at all that Kolt and I might work it out.

I think she and my dad took our separation almost as hard as I did. He’s always been like a son to them, even before we got married. They never said it, but I knew when I left him and came back home, they were disappointed in me for walking out on my husband. I also bet that when my dad made me go on that coffee date with Dexter, it was just so that I could see how good I’d had it with Kolt because Dexter was so damn awkward. They might have been sad about the separation, but they also hadn’t lived my reality the months prior, so they didn’t really get to have an opinion as far as I was concerned. Then again, I know now that I have so much regret and guilt. I often wonder if Kolt would have eventually snapped out of it if I had just hung on a little longer. And now, I’ll never know.

“Kolt wants me back,” I blurt out.

“And … I don’t know. I’m really, really confused, Mom.” My voice cracks from the raw emotion ripping through my body, tearing me apart. “It should be straightforward when it comes to love, but it’s not. There are so many factors.”

For a moment, she’s quiet, and I know she’s thinking about the right thing to say and how to word it in a way that will speak to me.

“That’s true. But none of that matters when it comes to true love,” she tosses back. “Sometimes, you can’t think with your head. And you can’t use logic—though I know that’s always been your favorite way to figure something out. When it comes to things like this, babe, I’m afraid to say you need to let your heart tell you what to do. It knows best.”

“My heart can’t take getting broken again, Mom.” I sniffle, swallowing the lump in my throat, only for it to work its way back up. “My heart is still trying to recover from the last time my husband hurt me.”

“First off, remember, I love you so much. Do you think his heart is hurting because you hurt him too?” She stops. “Also, sweetheart, did you ever think it might be hurting because it wants Kolt?” she asks thoughtfully. “My dear, the heart wants what it wants. You can fight it, but you can’t stop it.”

I become a blubbering mess and wipe my eyes. “I want Rocket,” I cry. “He’s my support animal. Kolt’s cat barely even likes me. She’s standoffish, like him.”

“Give it time, babe,” she answers, but I’m not so sure she’s even talking about the damn cat anymore. “I promise, you’re going to be okay, Paige,” she replies.

She doesn’t tell me it’s okay to just need my cat to snuggle sometimes, and I find that annoying.

“Let me know if you guys can make the banquet, okay? I need to run into the pharmacy to get Dad’s blood pressure medicine. I love you.”

“Love you too,” I utter. “Even though you just made me feel worse.”

“It’s only because you’re my favorite child.”

“I’m your only child,” I mumble. “Love you. Bye.”

Coach Jacobs steers the truck toward my house, and as I take in the sight of each room lit up like a Christmas tree, warmth spreads across my chest. For more than a year and a half, I’ve come home to a dark house, which has been one of the hardest parts of living alone. Because for so long, I lived with my wife, who seemed to always forget to turn off the lights when she left a room, and I’d always tease her about it. But once she was gone, all that remained was darkness … and every single time I returned home and saw the unlit house, I’d relive the moment she had left me all over again.

As he parks in front of my house, I pull my eyes from the light coming from each window and turn toward him. “Thanks, Coach. Really.”

Grabbing the small paper bag, I push the door open and climb out.

He looks at me and gives me a small grin. “I meant what I said, Kolburne. Just get better. We need you to come back stronger than ever, all right?” He leans on his steering wheel, his hands gripping it. “You can’t rush a recovery. But I am happy to hear you’re feeling well.”

I lean against the door. “I’m telling you, at the next checkup, I’ll be cleared to come back.” I nod. “And starting next week, I’ll be attending all practices too. Even if I can’t take part in a lot of them.”

“Sounds good, son. And like I said, don’t give that girl a reason to leave, you hear?” He smirks. “I don’t need to tell you that she’s out of your league, just like Meghan is out of mine. We’ll talk soon.”

Closing the door, I wave to him, and he turns around and heads back out of my driveway.

After our talk today, I feel better about my place on the team. Since my heart attack, I’ve let the voice in my head creep in and tell me that I was replaceable. And that, if I didn’t hurry up and get my ass back on the ice, I’d be history. It was nice hearing that my spot wasn’t going anywhere.

When I left the house two hours ago, Paige was sleeping. And now that I’m home, about to walk in, I’m not sure if she’ll be happy, sad, or pissed.

I guess I’m about to find out.

Turning the doorknob, I push the door open and step inside. I shut it behind me and take my shoes off, letting my nose inhale the scent of whatever Paige is cooking.

As I breathe in the smells, I close my eyes. For a moment, I stand there and pretend like everything is fine. And that we never parted ways.

My eyes flutter open, and a calmness washes over me, simply from having my wife home. And knowing I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep her here.

As I head toward the kitchen, I find her pulling something from the oven. When she turns toward me to set it down, wearing the cat-lover pot holders on her hands that I got her for Christmas years ago, I take in the sight of the spiral ham, covered in brown sugar glaze and pineapples. It’s always been one of my favorite meals, and she knows it too.

When she sets it down and sees I’m watching her, her eyes widen, and her cheeks turn a rose color. When we were happily married, she would have rushed over and leaped into my arms and giggled. But now, it’s almost like we’re getting acquainted with each other all over again.

Except earlier today, we got reacquainted with fucking each other with our hands.

Her hair is messily pulled halfway up. And she’s wearing one of the shirts she left here, which has a grumpy-looking cat on the front, and a pair of leggings that looks like they’re painted on her legs, making my mouth water and my cock twitch, and I already want her again.

“Hi,” she says, her voice faint. “How was your drive with Coach Jacobs?”

“It was good,” I say, taking a seat across from her on the barstool and holding the bag up. “I got you something,”

Her eyes float to the bag, and she slowly reaches across the countertop and takes it from me. When she peeks inside, a grin spreads across her plump lips before she holds up the cake pop.

“You went to Starbs?”

“Coach did, and then he bitched about his coffee the entire time.” I laugh. “Saw those and figured I’d feed your addiction.”

Paige goes to Starbucks damn near every single day. And even though her coffee order seems to change with the season, she always gets a cake pop. At least, she used to. But somehow, I think that’s something about her that hasn’t changed. I hope not anyway.

“Now, I want this and not ham.” She giggles before setting it down. “Thanks, Kolt. Did you and Coach Jacobs have a good talk? How do you feel?”

“I feel better,” I tell her honestly. “This whole time, suppose I’ve been worried that I was about to be replaced. But he told me that’s not going to happen.”

“I knew that much,” she says, grinning at me as she reaches into the refrigerator and takes out a stick of butter. “You’re too good to be replaced. The entire world sees it; I wish you would too.”

After cutting into the butter, she tosses a pad of it into the bowl and begins to mash the potatoes. My mouth waters, but it’s not for the meal as much as it is for my wife and watching her hands wrap around the masher.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Guess we’ll see how I fare when I return to the ice. This is the longest break I’ve had since I was seventeen years old, I think.” I change the subject. “How was your nap”—I can’t stop the grin that pulls at my lips—“with Ted?”

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” she says, widening her eyes. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until I woke up an hour later and realized I’d dozed off.”

“With Ted,” I utter, amused.

“With Ted,” she agrees, bobbing her head up and down a few times before taking out a big plate to pile the ham onto.

The air in the room grows thicker when she lifts her eyes to mine. There are a million thoughts running through that pretty head of hers, but I can’t decipher any of them.

“Paige,” I utter, swallowing thickly, “about what I said—”

“There’s, um … a fundraiser for Mr. Wells tomorrow night,” she quickly says. “Would you be up for going to it? Mom thought—well, we both thought it would mean a lot to Mr. Wells and the town if you came.”

That catches me off guard. I knew Mr. Wells had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, but I wasn’t expecting Paige to ask me to go back home with her. And certainly not her mom after the way I treated her daughter.

“I’m going to start attending practices—”

Her cheeks grow redder as she scoops the potatoes into a large bowl, avoiding eye contact as she says, “That’s okay. I know hockey must take priority right now. I figured it was a long shot. I just—well, Mom brought it up, and I thought I’d check. But it’s no big deal. Really.”

“Hey,” I say, smiling because I’ve always found it so fucking endearing when she rambles this way. She assumes she knows someone’s answer before they even get a chance to fully say it. “I didn’t say no. What I was going to say was that I am going to start taking part in practices next week, so for the rest of this week and this weekend, I’m free. And I’d love to go back home to show my support for Mr. Wells.”

Her eyes lift to mine, and she relaxes, flashing me a bashful smile. “Really?”

“Hell yeah,” I say, strumming my fingers on the counter. “When do you want to leave?”

“It’s tomorrow night—Friday. So, we should probably leave by midday tomorrow?”

“I’ll get my stuff packed,” I drawl. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yeah?” she says nonchalantly, going back to plating our dinner.

“At some point, you’ll have to stop avoiding the conversation you’re so afraid to have with me, you know.” I smirk, sitting back slightly. “Being back home … you’ll have nowhere to hide.”

She doesn’t answer, but her lips part, and her eyes widen a fraction. She can’t hide from this forever. I only have ten days. Ten days to show her that I am exactly the man she thought I was when she said I do .