I’m hopeful that Kodiak is in the mood for a little fun and stress relief tonight. There are times when I worry I’m becoming a sex addict, but then I remind myself Kodiak is a twenty-two-year-old athlete—his birthday has come and gone—and there’s nothing wrong with having a high sex drive. Besides, sex counts as exercise. Also, orgasms are a great, natural relaxant.
Kodiak actually looked it up when I made a joke about our slightly over-prolific sex life, paranoid that maybe we were having it too often. Then he read two books on sex addiction. And another one on bondage and voyeurism.
All they seemed to do was make him hornier and confirm that we were totally normal.
I let myself into the condo, and my excitement dampens when I hear him talking. Maybe one of the guys he plays hockey with is over. He’s made a few friends, as have I, but he never mentioned company tonight. I toe off my shoes and head down the hall, pausing when I catch him pacing the length of the living room with his phone in his hand.
He’s wearing only a pair of athletic shorts, his heavily muscled back flexing as he runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m not going to Vancouver.”
He’s on speakerphone, but his dad’s voice is low and muffled, so I don’t catch his response.
“There has to be another option. That can’t be the only team who wants me. Can’t you get them to trade me? Maybe you should call my agent and ask about Chicago?”
“That’s not how it works, Kodiak.” Rook’s voice is gentle, rational.
“You pulled strings for training camp this summer, though. You have to be able to do something! It’s too far away. Lavender has two years of college left, and then we can go wherever.”
“You don’t know what things are going to look like two years from now, and you can’t base this decision on one person. Just because Vancouver has you doesn’t mean it’s going to be the only option.”
“It’s the only one I’m hearing about! I’m not being separated from her again. You’ll never understand what it’s like. I’m not you. I can’t walk away from the person I love and just deal for a year. I will lose my fucking mind!”
There’s some muttering on the other end of the line, and suddenly it’s his mom on the phone instead of his dad, her voice soft, but strong. “Kodiak, remember that your words have an impact on the people they’re directed at, and throwing the past in someone’s face is not a way to manage your emotions.”
The shift in his demeanor is immediate. “You don’t understand, Mom.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I will never truly be able to understand what this is like for you, or for Lavender, because it’s not my experience. You can be angry about the past, but at some point, you have to let it go and live in your present. I know you’re worried about signing a contract that will take you away from Lavender again, but you can’t tether yourself to her, or rely on her as the sole source of your happiness. Otherwise you’re going in reverse.”
“We’re doing so good right now, though. I don’t want to lose this.”
“No one says you have to, Kodiak.”
“How is it gonna work if I’m halfway across the country? I’ll be traveling nine months out of the year.” He rubs the space between his eyes.
“Have faith that your relationship is strong enough to withstand this,” she tells him.
“What if I’m not strong enough?” he asks softly as I step into the living room. He catches the movement, and his face pales. “Lavender’s home. I gotta go. I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I’m sorry. I’ll see you in a few days.” He ends the call and tosses the phone on the couch. “How much of that did you hear?”
There’s no point in lying. “Vancouver wants you.”
He shakes his head. “I won’t do it. I won’t take the deal.”
I bridge the gap between us, link our pinkies, and guide him to the couch. He sits heavily and rests his forearms on his thighs.
“We knew this was coming.” I run my fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, but he bows his head.
“I won’t go to the West Coast. I’m not leaving you.” His knees bounce, even though I know he’s trying to force them to stay still.
“Kodiak, look at me.” He glances at me briefly, and all I see is fear. These are the times I don’t envy him and his massive brain. He unpacks every scenario in his head and runs it through, finding a fatalistic ending that drags him down into a soul-crushing abyss of terror.
I straddle his thighs and place my palm on the side of his neck. His pulse pounds violently. “I know you’re scared, but you have to take the deal.”