Thin Ice (Power Play Series Book #2)

Chapter Forty-Eight × One Sick Fuck

I guess that's the hard thing about being in a relationship and having a family when you're in the league. You are both present - and not. You are both helpful and a provider and the greatest thing since sliced bread (do people say that anymore) - and also the one that never has time for anything other than the sport they once loved but now have a love-hate relationship with.

And while between the two of us, Rosie is definitely more future oriented than I am, I have taken into account the potential issues that my job might bring into our future. That's the same reason I read a shit-ton of self-help books and listened to quacks on the internet after our break-up (the first one where she blocked me), because I wanted to actually learn from my mistakes.

I don't know if I can really say that I made a lot of mistakes in our first round; I guess nobody thinks they do, though. But regardless, I wanted to make sure that I would be mentally and emotionally prepared if I ever got a chance with her again - or even if it was with someone else (something I don't like to think about), I wanted to be ready for them.

Because like I said, I'm 24 which is practically fossilized in the league's definition. In terms of family life; playing time, I still have at least 10-15 years of, if I continue to do well and can get a team to keep me around. I could always turn into a Jager and play into my forties, but I'd really rather be spending those days driving my kids to school and hanging out with Rosie.

"Hey." Rosie says, her scent entering the room before she's turned the corner, alerting me of her arrival. I read one time somewhere that when you love someone, or are attracted to them, that you can smell their pheromones - or something like that. I wasn't a science major, okay? I didn't actually major in anything, I never went to college.

If I were looking in a mirror, I would say my face lights up like a Christmas tree everytime I see her. "Hey baby." I greet her, quickly grabbing the stack of plates that my mom has tasked her with. Somehow, my mom thinks it's a good idea to have my girlfriend automatically help with the cleaning. Which I wouldn't mind, if she asked me or Link for help too.

Nope. Just Rosie and Cass. But she gives Cass a get out of jail free card because she still has a kid practically glued to her tit. Her chest? Is it offensive to talk about my sister-in-laws chest production? Anyway. Their kids are practically glued to her hip - whether for milk or just because they prefer her over their dad.

Don't get me wrong, Link's a great guy: solid, stable, and would never step out on his family. But did he seriously need to have five kids? I mean, the man's never exactly wanted much to do with kids. I guess he just likes the traditional type of household; one where he provides and the woman stays home, barefoot and pregnant.

I, on the other hand, could not want something further away. Maybe not in terms of being the provider, I still want to be that for Rosie and I. But I certainly don't expect her to be baking muffins all day and waiting for me to come home so she can tend to my every need. Which is kind of what it seems like Cass does for Link.

"You good?" I ask Rosie, having a habit of checking on her, whenever, wherever. We just had breakfast/brunch with my family - which was fine, I guess. My parents didn't grill her with too many questions and everyone was more focused on the whole kids around maple syrup and hot coffee pot, thing.

I'm just glad that we're out of her this afternoon. Don't get me wrong, I love my family - but part of life is growing up. Part of life is moving out and moving on and still staying in-touch, but not as much as when you lived with them. That's life. And yes, there are people that live five minutes away from their mother-in-law or have their family practically growing out of their ass; however, seeing as we're scattered across the country and will probably stay that way until the three of us retire, I don't think that'll be changing anytime soon.

Siblings rarely get to play on the same team, for long anyway.

"Yeah." Rosie answers, barely having the opportunity to let the words out of her mouth before I pull her in towards me. I checked to make sure there are no kids (or lurking parents) around before trying to plant one on my girlfriend, okay? And by plant one on my girlfriend, I mean give her a hug; plant myself, so to speak.

It's funny, when you know someone, when you really know them, you can communicate even without words. I guess there's different variations of it throughout the world: from looking over at your buddy in class when the teacher tells you you'll get to pick your partner, to looking at the person sitting beside you when the crazy person at the train station starts screaming to themselves.

This communication though, it's the kind you do when you love someone; when someone's your person. It's the familiarity when you see them out and about before meeting up; the feeling of comfort and home and knowing each other's secrets.

To paraphrase: Rosie's okay but tired and a little anxious about the plane ride home. I'm feeling bad about the fact that she's nervous and remind her of when I suggested she take Gravol before getting on the plane. She's worried about the stewardess? Flight attendant? She's worried about them thinking she's drink or under the influence and kicking her off the plane. I tell her she'll be fine and if not, I'll be there to protect her.

So yeah, you could say that we communicate through more than just words. Rosie says that apparently 70% of communication isn't done verbally - which is something she read online apparently; she loves random facts and shit like that. And I just love her getting excited about something and into it.

She's a passionate person with whatever she does - and I just so happen to be one of those things.

"Present time!" Of course, right when my arms are wrapped around her and I'm soaking in the feeling of her body heat being combined with mine, that's when my family decides to begin their time under the Christmas tree.

And I hate to be the barer of bad news - or good, but I already got my gift. And there's not a chance in California hell that I'll be returning it.