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She told me the story of her water breaking on a train car halfway between Manhattan and White Plains, and how Megan was the only reason she didn’t completely lose her mind while they waited for whatever malfunction had stalled them to be repaired. She made it to the hospital in time, but barely. I told her about the time I fell asleep in the top bunk of a sleeper bus and didn’t wake up until I was locked inside a bus lot in Chicago, five miles from the arena with less than an hour before puck drop.
Overall, I still played with Nathan more. But I have to wonder what Coach is trying to do. Or what he’s trying to say.
“Okay, time to talk,” Felix says, his brown eyes serious as he sits down beside me. Camden, Eli, and Van file into the row in front of us, standing so they can face me, and Nathan pops up behind me so I’m fully surrounded by my teammates.
“And it’s not like any of you have room to talk. Van calls Amelia at least twelve times a day.” “And she answers every single time,” Van says with a smirk.
“If you’re starting something, you have to think about Juno because Evie definitely will.”
“I’m just…recognizing a lot of the potential complications.” “I know a thing or two about complications,” Van says. He would know since he’s the one who married the coach’s daughter. “If it’s right, it’s right, and you’ll figure everything out.”
“You want to start something with Evie?” I spin around to see Carter standing in the aisle of the bus. I would cringe if not for the hopeful expression on his face. Despite his brother’s questionable attitude, Carter is a hard kid not to like. “If he does, you won’t say anything about it,” Nathan says, and Carter quickly nods. “No, definitely not.” He hovers for a moment, indecision crossing his expression like he can’t quite decide if he should stay or go.
“I don’t think Juno is a reason for me to walk,” I say. Van reaches over and claps me on the back. “Then go for it, man.” “Just maybe go slowly,” Nathan says. “She’s been through some stuff. You might need to play the long game.” “Yeah, that’s probably true.”
The only thing Evie and I haven’t talked about this week is Devon.
I just wish I could figure out what Theo was thinking. Why he seems so determined to sabotage the start of what could be a very impressive career.
I find her standing beside the piano, her violin lifted to her chin, fingers flying over the strings as she plays a melody that feels familiar even though I can’t quite place the song. Juno is sitting in her bouncy seat beside her mom, eyes wide, feet kicking. She looks enamored with her mother, and I completely understand the feeling. Evie is incredible.
“Dude, is that Maroon 5?” Carter says from behind me. “‘Memories?’ I love that song.” The second Carter names it, I recognize it as well.
“Technically, ‘Memories’ was influenced by Pachelbel Canon, which is absolutely classical. It’s one of the reasons I have so much fun playing it.” She lifts her instrument again. “See? Listen.”
But closer in text messages is different than closer in person, and there’s a slight awkwardness hovering between us.
In an instant, the awkwardness is gone. There’s a rightness to holding her like this that doesn’t leave room for any other emotion.
I haven’t used Alec’s video since moving to Harvest Hollow, though I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe because it seems silly when we’re living in his house? But it was tried and true a month ago, so maybe I’ll get lucky and it will work on Juno now.
And he invited me to have dinner with him and his friends. Logically, I know it’s not really a big deal. A big group thing. That’s what he called it. Just a casual gathering of friends. But it doesn’t feel casual to me.
Everything is different.
The long hug, all the texting, the baby gift. Those things don’t necessarily mean Alec wants more than friendship. But they do feel like more than he’d be doing if he had a girlfriend.
Juno and I are halfway through a second listen of Alec’s video when the floor creaks behind me, and I spin to see the man himself standing at the edge of the living room. He’s shirtless and barefoot, pajama pants slung low on his hips, looking sleepy and disheveled and entirely too sexy.
“Juno likes it,” I say, heat climbing my cheeks. I’m at least grateful it’s dark enough that he probably can’t see. “Something about the register of your voice, or the tone. It usually calms her, puts her to sleep when nothing else will.”
But the longer he walks, the more he seems to relax, settling into a rhythm that seems to be working for them both. And then my heart climbs into my throat because Alec starts to sing.
Seeing Alec hold Juno brings into stark clarity just how much she’s missing by not having her dad around. Not that I can imagine Devon ever being this gentle, this patient with Juno.
I lean back onto the couch and close my eyes. Alec has no idea the gift he’s given me. It feels so good to just breathe for a second. To trust that at least for this small moment, Juno is safe in someone else’s arms.
Feeling that baby fall asleep in my arms tapped into something in my brain that I’ve never experienced before. Something primal. I don’t just want to date Evie, I want to protect her, take care of her. I’m talking fight her battles, kill the bad guys, rid the world of anything and anyone who might ever hurt her. And I want to do the same for Juno, which is the most foreign part of all.
I repeat the face and watch in wonder as Juno laughs again and again, feet kicking in excitement. An ache forms deep in my chest that I can't identify at first, but then it shifts and sharpens, and I recognize it for what it is. I want this. I want lazy mornings in bed with my wife, a kid tucked between us. I want to make coffee for someone as easily as I make it for myself. I want to talk about a baby laughing or rolling over for the first time. I want to be a dad.
Or did Evie and Juno stir this awake in me because I want it specifically…with them?
As soon as I’m back inside, I pull out my phone and call Riley. The faster she takes down the photos of us, the better. I want it clear to anyone who’s curious.
I need every ounce of the patience Victoria seems to have in spades. She never had kids of her own, but she has this gentle nature that makes it seem like very little could rub her the wrong way.
“People do the best they can with the knowledge they have. And they often buy what they can afford. I’m happy to help because I’d rather they play something than nothing at all.”
“Georg Winterling,” Victoria says reverently. “Made in 1905 and purchased by a German man who emigrated to the United States in 1950. He brought the instrument with him, but he was the only one in his family who played, so after he died, it went into the attic, where it sat for the next sixty-five years. Until his family sold the house and had an estate sale and did not think to evaluate the worth of their grandfather’s very old, very dusty violin.”
When I lumbered across the stage at my graduation, seven months pregnant, completely heartbroken, I thought I would never find that purpose again. The music scene in New York is cutthroat. If you aren’t all in, you are quickly ousted out. But I couldn’t be all in as a brand-new single mom.
Alec is here. I can’t truly put into words what it’s been like the past few days. Ever since he got home on Sunday night, things have been different. Charged with this current of anticipation. We’re talking and texting as much as we did while he was out of town, but now we’re seeing each other too.
“Misery loves company?” His eyebrows lift playfully. “I was thinking more…maybe it won’t be miserable if you’re there with me?” My face flushes with heat. He has no idea what he’s doing to me.
I take a shaky breath, exhaling and letting the tension drain out of my body. In its place, a warm, buzzy glow fills my limbs, making my skin tingle and my blood heat. I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if I was. That means Alec really is flirting with me.
“I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if there was.” His lip ticks up the slightest bit. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page, then.”
“A lot of older instruments are complete crap and shouldn’t be restored because they never sounded great to begin with. But instruments that are well made will only sound better with age. And a Georg Winterling violin is definitely going to sound amazing.”
A Place for Healing
“I was just…thinking about you finding your purpose while I might be losing mine.”
We only just admitted that we’re interested in dating each other. That doesn’t mean he’s ready to reveal all his deepest, darkest thoughts. But it does mean I’m worried about him.
His arms slip around my waist as I breathe him in, cataloging every element of his hug. The feel of him pressed against me, the slight musk of his skin, the way his grip tightens just before he lets me go.
But if something is going to happen with Alec, I need to figure out what’s going on so Devon doesn’t blindside me with a surprise visit or suddenly wanting to be involved in Juno’s life.
I took them to humor her, knowing Juno is much too young for me to go through the effort, but Theo and Carter were excited enough for all of us when I showed up with pumpkins, and now Alec’s front porch is adorned with two surprisingly well-carved jack-o-lanterns.
He shouldn’t have to do any of that, and I’m not sure why he does. Except, Theo probably has the edge on the ice, and they’re both better together than they are on their own. That might be enough motivation for Carter to cave and keep acting the adult. He knows he has a better shot of a big career with Theo beside him. That will all go away if Theo doesn’t stop messing around.
The longer Theo is here, the more time he spends on the ice, the more miserable he seems to be. “Yeah. Really. I’d like you to be there.” Carter looks over at his brother, but Theo quickly shoots him down. “Can’t,” he says through a mouthful of Raisin Bran. “We’ve got plans. Dates.”
I look from one brother to the other, remembering so easily what it was like to be as young as they are. I had a little more structure than they do, playing four years at Cornell, which made it easier to transition into adulthood.
My dad plays, or…played, I guess.” “Was he pro?” I ask, and Theo shakes his head. “Just beer leagues. He maybe could have done more, but he was in a car accident in college that screwed up his back. He was never the same after.” He slides his bowl forward, the spoon clattering against the ceramic. “He always hoped we would, though.” “And now you are,” I say. “That must make him proud.” “I wouldn’t know,” Theo says, his voice distant. “He died last year. Another car accident. What are the odds, right?” Suddenly, everything Theo is doing makes so much more sense, and my heart nearly breaks for
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It’s one thing to have the team talking about my knee. To have the general public speculating about my future like it’s no big deal is a new level of frustration.
“I could be wrong,” Evie says, “but it sounds like Theo might be doing a little bit of self-sabotage.” “What do you mean?” “Maybe he feels guilty about playing? About enjoying his life when his dad isn’t around to see him do it?” I lean forward and prop my elbows on the counter. “Yeah, maybe. I just wish I could help him. I don’t want to push, but none of the other guys know what he’s been through. I don’t want him to get himself in trouble, and if something doesn’t change, he will.” “That might be what he wants,” Evie says. “If he gets kicked off the team, he can’t feel guilty about playing.”
“So you’re saying real men aren’t afraid of boybands or therapy.”
