On the Surface (In the Zone) (21 page)

She mulled that over. After a moment she nodded. “Well, bravo, Dr. Frankenstein. You convinced me that your little rituals can be a good thing, but I maintain that they can also be detrimental.”

“Agreed,” he said. He glanced at her. “Does that mean you’ll keep kissing my stick?”

After she nodded, he realized how worried he’d been that she’d stop. Sometimes he felt trapped by his routine, but couldn’t see any way to wean himself off without jeopardizing his job performance. And in the scheme of things, completing that routine didn’t even make the top five list of things he hated about his job.

He raised the remote and turned the TV off. “You realize, of course, that we just had a fight. Now we get to have makeup sex.”

She burst out laughing as he climbed on top of her. “Tim, first of all we just had sex.”

He scoffed. “And your point?”

“Second of all, that wasn’t a fight. That was a discussion.”

“You accused me of relying on a crutch,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “That was really insulting. I could have easily taken that the wrong way. In fact, when you first said it, I was pissed.”

She stopped laughing. “You were? Honestly?”

“Honestly.” He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. “I care about you a lot, and it really matters what you think about me. I would hate it if every time you watched me play, you thought I was relying a crutch. Or worse that I was some pussy who was afraid to get out there if things didn’t go the way they were supposed to before the game.”

She looked horrified. “Oh my God, Tim, that’s not what I think at all. When I watch you play, I feel nothing but...amazement. You have a very elite skill set and you work incredibly hard. I had no idea how hard pro athletes worked until I met you. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Their gazes met and held.

“Oh, fuck. I love you,” he blurted.

Erin’s mouth dropped open.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to say that,” he said quickly.

“Well,” she said with a nervous laugh, “you did.”

“Yeah. I, ah, yeah.” He sighed. He dragged his hands down his face. The cat was not only out of the bag, it was fucking running around knocking shit over. But what was he supposed to do about it?

“Are you sure?”

“Actually, I’m very sure,” he said, laughing. To tell the truth, he felt relieved. Now she knew exactly where he stood. “I’ve been sure for weeks now.”

“But...but you’re you and I’m me.” When he shook his head, bewildered, and said, “So?” she sighed. “Are you really going to make me do this?” She ticked off her fingers, one at a time. “You’re famous. You’re a freakin’ professional athlete who could have any woman he wanted. I’m pretty sure you’re a multimillionaire. And then, look at me. I’m...” She trailed off, rolling her eyes.

“You’re what? Nothing special?” His voice vibrated with contained anger. “That’s complete and utter bullshit. You heal people, little kids. You help them through some real tough shit. When they’re scared out of their minds and when their parents can’t keep it together any more... Of all people, I know what you do is important. So don’t make it sound like you’re nothing. You’re the one who’s out of my league, Erin. All I do is play hockey. What does that contribute to society? Not much compared to you. It’s entertainment, that’s all.” He took her wrists and pinned them to the mattress above her head. “So no more arguments about whether you’re good enough for me. You do good work. You’re funny, sexy, smart, understanding, tough, brave... I could go on all night, but we just had another argument, so that means we’re way behind on the makeup sex.”

“You have a one-track mind,” she said as he cupped her breast and thumbed the tip.

“No, I don’t. I just like to finish what I start is all.”

“Then you should probably know something,” she said, slowly, more than a little afraid. “I think I love you too.”

This time
his
jaw dropped open. Relief, warmth and joy dawned over his face and the dim light caught what might be tears in his eyes. Erin felt as if a hundred of her most fervent wishes had just come true.

But then he narrowed his eyes. “Wait a second. You only
think
you love me?”

Giddy, she held her hand out and tilted it back and forth. “Yeah, I’m somewhere around, you know, seventy-five percent.”

“Is that so?” he asked, a gleeful calculation glittering in his eyes. “Well, get ready, sweetheart. After I’m done with you, you’re gonna be at a hundred and ten. Maybe twenty.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Erin decided not to tell Claire about Tim’s surprising declaration. Even though Claire loved her and wanted her to be happy, Erin didn’t want to force her to put on a glad face when her own marriage was circling the drain. But she couldn’t resist telling her best friend. Tammy had a hard time subduing her excited scream, considering it was the dead of night when Erin shared the news and the ward was fast asleep.

“Do you love him too?” Tammy asked.

“I do. It’s crazy, but I love him so much it scares me.”

“You’re going to be a hockey wife. I just know it.”

“Tammy, stop. It’s way too early to be talking like that.”

“Are you going to quit your job?”

Erin frowned. “Of course not. I love my job. I’ll love it even more once that labor and delivery position opens up.”

“But you could easily quit and not work another day for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t
want
to quit. I like my job.”

Tammy barreled on. “Well, I would, if I were you. I’d quit in a heartbeat and start living the life of luxury. I’d get manis and pedis once a week. I’d go shopping every day, get a personal trainer, maybe even a chef. Because, hey, I looked up his salary on the internet and financially, he’s got it made. As long as he doesn’t...” She trailed off.

Erin narrowed her eyes. “As long as he doesn’t what?”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t get a career-ending injury.”

Erin tried to avoid thinking about the danger involved in professional hockey as much as possible. Driving was statistically dangerous as well, but people went their whole lives without getting into a serious accident. Everything in life contained an element of risk, and besides, Tim had a head on his shoulders and she couldn’t imagine he hadn’t planned for the long-term.

“But that’s not going to happen,” Tammy said. “Forget I said anything. He’s going to be fine. You guys are going to get married and have lots of babies and be happy forever.”

“Except, he doesn’t want to have kids,” Erin said.

Tammy sighed. “Oh, yeah, because of...”

“Yeah.”

“But he might change his mind. I used to not want kids, but I do now. In fact, Brad and I’ll probably start trying later this year.”

“Okay,” Erin said with a sigh. “You know what? I’m officially changing the subject. What are you doing this Saturday? Because Tim and some of his friends are going to surprise Luke with a visit.”

Erin explained how Luke’s parents were going to bring him to the Barracuda Ice Center on some pretense. Tim was going to arrange for some private time at the rink so he and his buddies could get on the ice with Luke and give him some pointers. He also got the family a box at the Mesa Arena, similar to the one he’d gotten for Erin and Claire in the preseason.

“I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” Tammy said.

* * *

The day of the surprise skate dawned a bit hazy as usual, but the forecast predicted sun in the afternoon and a high of seventy-five. Erin met the three Jansens on the front steps of the BIC. The Barracuda PR machine was there in force, but incognito. The plan was to pretend this was a human-interest news story about Luke’s battle back to the sport he loved.

“Luke, you look terrific,” Erin said, hugging him. His color was normal and he’d lost that gauntness around his face.

“Nurse Erin, what are you doing here?” he asked. He looked at his parents who just smiled.

“I heard you were going to take to the ice and I had to see it for myself. I’m not sure I believe you can really skate.”

“Oh, I can skate. I’ve been working out to get my muscles strong again.”

“He’s been so gung-ho, we have to caution him not to overdo it,” his mom said.

“That’s why all these news guys are here.” Luke nodded at James Atwater and his film crew. “They don’t believe it either.”

They walked in and Erin casually walked over to the windows that overlooked the NHL rink. “Hey, Luke!” she said, pointing. “Some of the Barracudas are practicing!”

Luke hurried over and almost pressed his face against the glass. “Hey, it’s Hollander and Sully. Locke and Booth MacDonald. Who’s that other guy?”

“I think it’s Calder Griffin,” Mr. Jansen said.

“You’re right!” Luke exclaimed. “Can we get closer? How do we get to those bleachers?”

“It’s through that door over there.” Erin pointed.

Tammy was already down there with her husband. She hugged Luke too when he got down there.

“Looking good, kiddo!” she exclaimed. “I see you’ve got your skates there.”

Luke held them by the laces. “Yeah, I’m just going to do some laps probably. Dr. Chin said—”

A knock on the glass startled them.

Erin smiled. It was Tim.

Luke gaped.

Tim pointed at him and crooked his finger.

Luke didn’t move.

Tim raised a finger in the air as if getting an idea. He pulled his glove off and tucked it under his arm, then pulled his cell phone out and dialed a number. Mr. Jansen’s phone rang and he handed it to his son. “It’s on speaker.”

“Hello?” Luke said.

“Hey, Luke, it’s me, Tim.”

Luke’s eyes were as wide as poker chips. “I know. Tim Hollander, number twenty-five. Winner of the Maurice Richard trophy and two time Stanley Cup Champion.”

“That’s right, kid.” Tim smiled. “Hey, do you remember what I wrote in that note? How I wanted to see if you had what it took to be a hockey player?”

Luke nodded mutely, but a smile slowly appeared on his face. The other players glided over one by one, all of them grinning.

“Well, now’s your chance. Come on out here with us.”

Luke looked at his parents, who looked like they were as excited as Luke was. He turned back to Tim. “Are you sure it’s okay? Won’t your coaches get mad?”

Tim chuckled. “Nope. This isn’t an official practice. It’s totally okay.”

“But I didn’t bring my stick!” Luke cried.

“We brought one for you, buddy,” Tim said. Jason Locke raised it in the air. It was covered with signatures.

“Go on, Luke,” his mom, Sarah, said. “Put on your skates.”

After that, Luke seemed to snap out of his daze. He sat down and laced up his skates like someone had pushed his turbo button. When he was done, Tim directed him toward the top of the rink where he opened the door to the ice.

Luke shook hands with Tim and the other players. He looked small and big at the same time. Small in stature but huge with emotion. He took the stick from Jason reverently and they stood and talked for a bit.

“Erin, thank you again for arranging this. It was all we could do to keep it a secret,” Sarah said.

“It wasn’t me, it was Tim. He did it all.”

Sarah leaned close. “Am I correct in assuming you two are an item? Luke said he heard from one of the other nurses that you were going to get married.”

Erin glared at Tammy. “We’re just dating.”

“Well, good luck to you. He seems like a keeper.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Vic filed for divorce. Erin couldn’t believe it. They’d always seemed fine to her, but maybe the signs had been there and she hadn’t wanted to recognize them—like Claire attending all those hockey games without her husband. Claire always acted as if her life was a fairytale. If she had complaints, she’d kept them to herself. She might have been hiding the reality from Erin on purpose, not wanting to worry her, or maybe she’d been in denial herself.

Either way, it broke her heart to see her sister being so brave about it all. Claire seemed to just take the disintegration of her marriage in stride and didn’t want to talk about it, and because Erin loathed prying, she decided Claire would talk to her when she wanted to and no sooner.

Then, Claire announced that she was going to New York to get some alone time.

“There are eight million people in New York,” Erin quipped.

Claire gave her a look.

“Sis, come on,” Erin said “What about Thanksgiving?”

“I’m going to be resting up for Black Friday, so I’ll order room service. Or, I think the Rangers are playing. I might gear up in Barracuda stuff and go just to fuck with everyone.”

Erin couldn’t believe the F-word came out of her sister’s mouth. Claire never swore.

She wondered if her sister was going through a midlife crisis at the young age of thirty-six.

* * *

When Tim found out Erin would be alone on Thanksgiving, he immediately insisted she spend the holiday with him and his family in Chicago. The stars had aligned and the Barracudas were scheduled to play in Minnesota on Wednesday, only a short one-hour flight away.

“Oh, God,” she said, putting her coffee mug down on the counter. She was about ten minutes from leaving Tim’s for a seven a.m. shift. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be introduced to the family. That’s such a milestone.”

“They won’t bite,” he said with a chuckle. “In fact, it’s going to be a Hockey Thanksgiving, so there won’t be any of that Norman Rockwell type formality.”

“What the heck is a Hockey Thanksgiving?”

“My parents are diehard Blackhawks fans. They’ve had season tickets for probably thirty-odd years. Anyway, when the Blackhawks play at home on Thanksgiving, we forego the whole roast-turkey extravaganza, dress up in our Blackhawk gear and go support the team. We have pumpkin pie back at the house afterward.”

He could tell Erin was both appalled and intrigued at the idea of such a traditional holiday being celebrated at a sports arena.

“Who are they playing?” she asked, taking her breakfast dishes to the sink.

“The Blues, I think. St. Louis.” Tim got up and poured himself another cup of coffee.

“And
you
have Blackhawk gear?” she asked, clearly doubtful.

He added some half-and-half. “Erin, I used to
be
a Blackhawk.”

She laughed. “Hello. I forgot. Duh.” She cocked her head. “Your parents must have been devastated when you left the team.”

“I think they’re only just now coming out of mourning,” Tim replied. “So, come on. Hockey Thanksgiving. Something you have to experience at least once in your life. They even have a couple of places in the arena that serve hand-carved turkey sandwiches. Come on. Please? I want to show them the amazing woman who has allowed me into her life.”

“Oh. Well, when you put it that way.” She smiled. “But I’m paying for my own airfare.”

“Erin, please.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Then let me pay for my share of the hotel room.”

He looked at her. “Remember when I was living at the Marriott? I earned a crapload of reward points, so I’m getting the room too. Besides, I invited you. You’re my guest. That means I cover the expenses.” He silently dared her to argue with him about a measly hundred bucks, but she nodded her assent. He pushed his luck and told her she should see the game in St. Paul too.

“If you can get away from work, you could come see the Wild game Wednesday, then we could catch a late flight to Chicago. Come on. In for a penny...”

He convinced her with a kiss motivated by a need, a real need to have her with him over the holiday. Even though he hadn’t thought about it before, sharing Thanksgiving with her felt like a necessity now. Erin was rapidly becoming the center of his life and unlike most changes, he found he liked it.

After she left for work, he did the breakfast dishes, happier than he’d ever been in his entire life. On the days when he knew he would be seeing her, he woke up elated and eager to start the day. On days when their schedules clashed, he still felt her presence in his life with a quiet contentment that permeated his outlook on everything. Best of all were days when he woke up next to her. He’d gotten into the habit of gazing at her while she slept and reveling in the possessive, macho satisfaction of having her in his bed. He wanted that every day.

He stood in his kitchen, stunned and yet not completely surprised by the realization that he wanted to marry her. As he batted the idea around like a puck he was maneuvering down the ice, a strange calm settled over him. It reminded him of that zone he sometimes entered during a game, when time seemed to slow and all his senses were dialed up high. Everything seemed clear and he knew exactly what he needed to do and how to do it.

He had a couple of hours before practice, so he spent it thinking about how and where he wanted to propose, actually researching it on the internet. A lot of people apparently enlisted the help of others to do the proposing for them—DJs, divers at an aquarium, skywriters. Tim didn’t like the idea of a middleman.

One creative guy made a video using Muppets that looked like himself and his girl. He showed how they first met, their courtship, the stuff they did together, and then his Muppet self-proposed to the Muppet girl. The thing had almost half-a-million views on YouTube. Tim hadn’t the time or the inclination to make a movie, but he ended up formulating a loose plan that solidified after he called in a few favors in Chicago.

Next, he needed a ring. Proposing without a ring was like trying to play hockey without a stick. The nearest Tiffany store was in Mission Valley, about a forty-minute drive. His dad swore by Tiffany, and Tim figured that was a good place to start his search.

“May I help you find something in particular, sir?” a saleswoman asked when he entered the store the next day. She introduced herself as Lori. She had big blue eyes, blond hair and an open smile.

“Yes. I need an engagement ring.”

Lori smiled warmly. “Congratulations. We have a large selection for you to choose from. If you could give me an idea of your price range...?”

“The sky’s the limit budget-wise—yeah, it’s your lucky day,” he said when her eyebrows lifted. “But my girlfriend’s not the flashy ‘Oooh, look at my vulgar diamond everyone!’ type of woman. She’ll want something understated, but high quality. Elegant, streamlined.”

“Hey, Tim Hollander.”

Tim looked up to see a man in a suit and tie approach.

“Right wing for my
team.
Lori, this guy is a Barracuda.”

“No kidding,” Lori said, smiling. “I’m not a big hockey fan, but my husband watches the occasional game.” She leaned an elbow on the display case. “Mr. Hollander is looking to get engaged.”