There it is. “I hear you,” I say softly. “Totally rational feelings.”
He swallows hard. “I don’t know if you know, but I suffer from pretty intense anxiety.”
“I could tell because I do too,” I admit, and he whips his gaze to mine. “Really?”
“Really,” I say. “Took lots of therapy and a stint with medication to help me.”
He looks away once more, nodding. “My mom wants me to go to therapy since I refuse to go on medication.”
“I mean, therapy is awesome, but medication can be helpful.”
“I don’t want people to think I’m crazy.”
I scoff. “Ev, we’re all crazy,” I joke, and his lips pull up at the side. “It’s okay. And also, who needs to know?”
“Owen,” he admits, and then he sighs. “Or my dad. I don’t want to let him down.”
“Medication and therapy don’t mean you’re letting anyone down,” I reinforce. “And if I know anything about Shea Adler, his kids could be slugs, and he’d love them.”
He grins. “I know, but everyone in my family is successful and driven. Shelli was on Broadway at sixteen, Posey is the first female coach in the NHL, Owen is going to be just like my dad, and my little brother, Quinn, is going to cure cancer. And then there is me. I just feel like I can’t live up to the hype.”
Jesus, talk about some pressure. “But you already are. You are your dad made over—”
“I’m not. My dad is a legend.”
“And you will be too. We just need to work on your confidence.”
He frowns. “I lack that. Pretty sure Owen took it all in the womb.”
We share a laugh. “Yeah, he’s one cocky-ass dude.”
“He is,” he agrees. “I’m terrified of failing,” he says after he looks down at the floor for a moment. “I don’t want to let anyone down, but the thought of getting on that ice and playing in front of people and failing freaks me the fuck out. I dealt with this a bit when I was in high school, but it wasn’t of this magnitude. This is the NHL. I gotta be on it, and I feel like I’m missing the mark.”
“You’re not,” I reassure him. “All this is okay to feel. You have to understand that.”
“I doubt my dad ever felt it, or even Owen.”
I take a deep breath. “I did,” I admit. “I still feel like I’m going to puke before I get on the ice, and it’s okay to feel like that.”
He exhales, and I can tell he needs more. When he meets my gaze once more, I cup his shoulder. “I hope you listen to me when I say you are a great dude and a super-talented hockey player. You’re going to do great things. We just got to get you over this hump. The team has great resources. Want me to get you the info?”
He hesitates. “Will it fuck with my position on the team?”
“No. The great thing about the resources is they are confidential.”
He thinks that over, and when my phone sounds, we both glance down at it. Evan smirks at me.
Jaylin: Thinking of you.
Hot damn, talk about an instant erection. Even when I’m having a heart-to-heart with a kid who is struggling, this girl gets my motor running. A big grin comes over my face as I pick up my phone to write her back.
Me: I can’t stop thinking of you. Can I call you in a bit? I’m having a talk with one of the boys.
Jaylin: Of course. Call me when you can.
Me: Will do.
I set my phone down, looking over at Evan, and he gives me a half grin. “You look like my dad when my mom cooks her famous fried chicken.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m super feeling her.”
“She’s really cool.”
“That she is,” I agree as I twirl my phone with my finger on the table. “So, back to what we were discussing. Want me to reach out to my contacts?”
He sucks in a breath and then lets it out loudly. “Yeah, but don’t tell Owen, please.”
“Never.”
“Thanks.”
We share a look, and I know in my soul, this kid is going to be okay.
I’ll make sure of it.
Chapter Seventeen
Kirby
* * *
“Aw, I hate that he feels like that. He’s such a sweet kid.”
I nod, though she can’t see me. I didn’t get to talk to her much last night. When I called after the boys left, she was at Callie’s gymnastics thing. She called when she left, but I was wicked tired and so was she. I’ve been busy with team shit all day and she has been shopping, so this is the first time we can really sit down and talk. We’ve texted, but nothing is as good as hearing her voice and her laugh. Celeste squirms in my arms, and I hold her close, kissing the top of her head. She is very clingy tonight, not wanting to be put down, and I’m unsure why. I know in one of those baby books I read that a child can sense how their parent feels, but I think I’ve done well hiding my anger and anxiety with the whole Lilly bullshit. I still haven’t heard from her, nor has Willa. I’m over it. I feel like she’s going to keep this up, and it makes me so fucking mad.