A soft laugh leaves me as my thumb hovers over my dad’s contact. The last text we exchanged was him telling me his plane landed in Chicago on Christmas.
The anger is still bubbling in my chest, but it’s no longer directed at my dad. It’s solely towards my mom. Sure, I hold frustration towards him, but the anger has dissipated.
Instead, it’s longing.
Longing for the relationship we once had. The relationship I didn’t think we would have again. But lately, I’ve felt like maybe I can be honest with him and tell him I need him. Maybe he’ll need me too.
Without hesitating any longer, I type out my message.
Then I delete it. It’s too wordy and complicated. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to express everything I’ve felt over the last twelve years.
So, I don’t.
Instead, I tell him how I’m feeling at this moment.
Me: I miss you.
I thought the weight would lift off my chest, but instead, the anxiety swarms around my lungs, causing me to be short of air when I see those three gray dots dance along my screen.
Dad: I miss you too, Evan. I know you have a lot of things you need to say, and whenever you’re ready to say them, I’m ready to listen.
Exhaling a deep, shaky breath, I drop my head back on the couch behind me until my phone vibrates again.
Dad: I love you.
My eyes burn with tears from seeing those three words. Words he and I haven’t spoken to each other in twelve years. I try to hold it in, but eventually, my body shakes with a silent sob. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that from him until now.
I want to respond, but I’m not ready. Besides, the tears have blurred my vision so much that I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Setting my phone down on the coffee table in front of us, I drop my head back, trying to control my breathing and stay quiet, so I don’t wake Stevie.
Using my thumb and index finger, I hold the bridge of my nose, my eyes screwed shut, trying to stop the tears from falling.
Stevie grabs my other hand, lacing her fingers with mine and resting our intertwined hands on her cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, her eyes still closed while she lets me have a moment.
The burden of anger and hatred that I’ve carried around for the last twelve years feels exponentially lighter on my shoulders. There’s a confusing mix of fear leaving my body and assurance taking over as I allow myself a minute, taking deep breaths and regaining my composure.
My eyes wander to the beauty in my lap, my wild thing who has a fucking heart of gold and makes me want to show mine.
Stevie holds her hand in mine as she rests, so I spin one of the new rings on her finger, admiring the way real gold plays off her light brown skin.
“Thank you for my new jewelry,” she quietly mutters.
I stroke her curls away from her face, absentmindedly playing with her hair as I scratch Rosie’s belly with my other hand. “You’re welcome, Vee. Thanks for being my girlfriend.”
She softly laughs, turning to sleep on her side. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s the best decision I ever made.” I stroke her cheekbone with my thumb as she starts to fade back to sleep. “Thank you for choosing me,” she adds in her sedated state.
Her lashes flutter from my touch, hiding her blue-green eyes. Her full lips are slightly parted, and her freckled cheeks could not be more adorable.
“It’s the best decision I ever made.”
35
STEVIE
“Do you feel like you’ve figured out how hockey works, now that you’ve been to plenty of these games?” Logan takes the seat next to me as she makes it back to our row after visiting Maddison down at ice level.
“I think so.” My head is on a swivel, taking in the sights of the United Center. I’ve been coming to Zanders’ home games for weeks, but I always find it fascinating how quickly they transform this building from a basketball court into a hockey rink. I was just here for Ryan’s game last night. “I have the rules down for the most part. And as far as our team goes, your husband scores the goals, and the guy I’m dating sits his ass in the penalty box for being a dick.”
A small chuckle escapes her. “Seems like you’ve got it figured out for the most part.”
“You don’t have to keep sitting with me at every game,” I offer, giving her an out. “I know my seats are kind of far away. I’m just worried about anyone seeing that I’m here.”
“I’m happy to get to sit with you.” Logan nudges her shoulder into mine. “Eli just needs our little pregame ritual, but after that, he’s focused on the game and not where I’m sitting. I’m excited that you’re here. Now I don’t have to hang in the family box with the other WAGS.”