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I’m not sure what has Nandy so concerned about switching the TV to a hockey game. Peter, our dad, watches sports. He was a professional athlete briefly. They would never judge if he has an interest in a player. But Nandy would judge. Judge himself. He has feelings for TJ. Feelings he doesn’t want to have. Nandy doesn’t do feelings. Not even for me. I’ve never seen anyone shut off that part of his heart as effectively as he has. When Lawrence not only ripped his heart out, but did so in a humiliating fashion, I wasn’t sure Nandy would ever be okay. I let him use me in ways he never had before. Let him unleash his fury on me. I admittedly loved it. It took our play at the club to a new level. His feelings for me never changed, though. Our strong friendship.
I’ve always wanted more, but have been more than willing to take whatever he will give me. Any piece of Nandy is better than no piece at all. But now, TJ.
“You know watching or not watching will not change the flutter in your gut every time he calls or texts you.”
Nandy’s head whips around. “There is no flutter.”
I snort. No answer required. He knows he’s full of shit. And so am I. My stomach flutters every time I ask Nandy about him. I hang on every word to know what they spoke about. Every time I read something about him…every time I watch hockey. And yep, I’m the one watching games now too.
Analisa sweeps me into her arms as we stroll into the house. She is the still the leggy Scandinavian beauty she was when I first met her. Stick straight golden hair, blue eyes, flawless skin dusted with a few freckles. The ease and peace of a woman content in her own skin.
“Fynn!” She cups her hands around my cheeks and gazes at me. “So good to see you!” She plants a kiss on each cheek, then examines my eyes. “Your eyes look gorgeous…I want that eye shadow!”
I laugh, because I knew she would. When Nandy puts the bag of goodies from the city we brought with us on the kitchen island, I produce a small shiny foil bag from the large bag and hand it to her.
“I suspected you might like it!”
She squeals with the delight of a teenager and kisses me again.
Peter just laughs at the two of us and yanks me into a bear hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve joined a family dinner.”
It has. Not sure why.
The house smells amazing. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry until the scents hit me.
“You look tired,” I hear Analisa say to Nandy. “When do you get to take a break?”
Nandy shrugs. “Never it seems.” She looks my way and all I can do is shrug. “Does this count?” he asks. He stuffs a piece of herb rubbed cheese into his mouth and beelines for the piano in the corner of the large sunroom. I hear the tinkering with the keys begin. He finally sits and lets himself go for just a few moments.
As much as he loves the violin. And I think it is the only thing he truly loves anymore. It must feel good to play something else. Something that isn’t part of the job.
“Is he okay?”
I shrug again. Not sure what to say. He isn’t. He’s exhausted. He’s burnt out. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. Tour. The big stadiums anyway. I’m the only person he has said that out loud to, I think. And he’s only said it once. It wasn’t open for discussion then, when I pressed him on it. Encouraged him to take time off. Quit adding to the tour. He hasn’t brought it up since.
I turn my attention to the TV in the living room visible from the kitchen island. Peter is about to turn off the game he was watching. The hockey game! It’s not the Grizzlies game though.
“Wait.” I make my way into the room. “Leave it on. Actually, can you get other games besides Chicago?”
He nods. “Yes, I have access to all of them. Who do you want?”
“Colorado.”
And just like that, TJ’s face fills the screen. My breath hitches. Damn. He doesn’t have his helmet on.
“Oh my, he’s handsome,” Analisa says.
“Your mother has suddenly discovered hockey. We watched the game following the anthems Nandy played in Calgary, and it seems…well, she’s going to leave me for a hockey player.”
She tosses her dishtowel his way. He catches it, twists it into a rope and snaps her on the butt with it. He goes to do it again, and she grabs it this time and pulls him in for a sweet kiss. Our entire lives, they’ve been like this. Playful and kind and very much in love. God, what must that feel like? That strong of a bond for so many years.
TJ’s face disappears from the screen. The camera pulls away, showing his entire body. The players are warming up. He is kneeling down on one knee, stretching, joking with the player next to him. The broadcasters are obviously talking about TJ, his return to the game. Possibly speculation about his absence. He switches legs and twists and contorts his body, while the surrounding players begin to skate and toss pucks into the air and at the net. The camera pulls away farther to show all the Colorado players and I see TJ spread his legs into the splits and begin…oh, holy hell…to…well, fuck the ice…oh shit. The camera zooms in on another player and he does the same thing. Am I imagining this? Uh, I want to go to a game. This is how they warm up? Are they all this flexible?
Peter doesn’t miss my expression. He grins at me, then looks back at the TV.
I clear my throat. “We met TJ recently. He’s a big fan of Nandy…and his music.”
Nandy is standing in the sunroom doorway. His eyes locked on the screen as well. His lips slightly parted.
