Geez, I flipping missed him. He had been gone less than two days, and I missed him. Meanwhile, there were longer times when we wouldn’t see one another and I didn’t miss him like I did when he was at the St. Jude’s event. Maybe it was because he was actually miles and miles away—when normally, even if I didn’t physically lay eyes on him, I knew he was near. But if I admitted it, it was because our bond was getting deeper. Every time I saw Hawk, my feelings for him changed…advanced ever so slightly. There was that still-unsure-where-we-were feeling, mixed with the take-my-breath-away feeling, and finally the calm, knowing-he-was-there feeling.
And I think I felt all of those rolled into one when he came to see me upon his and Finn’s return. After a lengthy, sweet kiss, he took my hand and started to lead me toward the stage area. Before I could question, I heard the telltale signs before I even saw the visual. It was not only by the announcer’s calls, but it was through the profanity that some of the crew were bellowing. And then it was confirmed by a glance at the large screen on the stage.
“We’re watching hockey?” I spurted out and froze in place.
Because his hand was in mine, Hawk had to come to a halt, too. “Yeah. It’s the Stanley Cup. The Preds are playing,” he said, in an “obviously” kind of tone.
“You’re a hockey fan?”
“Can’t watch regularly, but yeah.” He tugged at my hand, wanting to get closer to the group of our colleagues, but I didn’t budge. “C’mon. We’re already down two to zip and it’s winner takes all.”
“Hawk, I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Again, incredulous. “It’s just for a little bit, and then we have to start getting ready for tonight.”
“Go watch. Maybe I’ll see you after the concert.” I let go of his grip and started in the opposite direction…away from the “oohs” and “ahhs” that the fast game provoked in its viewers.
“Maya…” He stopped me with a brush of his hand, and I turned once again to face him.
It wasn’t a secret. In fact, it was far from one. I just didn’t like to think about it.
Regardless. “My dad played hockey.”
“He did?” When I nodded, Hawk, realizing and empathizing with the loss of a father, asked another question. “Any good?”
“Yeah. Pretty good,” I admitted and pursed my lips with a breath.
“What position?” His voice was soft—it helped.
“Defenseman.” And then, because not saying it would almost be like lying, I added, “He played for the Caps.”
“The Caps? As in the Washington Capitals?” Hawk’s voice heightened a little at the shocking revelation.
“Yeah.” Once again in my line of vision, the screen seemed larger.
“Who—”
“Noah Collins.” I hadn’t said his name out loud like that in a long time.
“Holy…” Hawk’s eyes blinked wider, and his mouth hung open momentarily. “Your dad was Noah Collins?”
“Yeah.”
“He was one of hockey’s greatest. One of the leading defense scorers in history.” He recited a fact I had known and heard repeated many times in my life.
“Yeah.”
“They still talk about him and that goal during the Stanley Cup, right before he—” Hawk cut himself off. “Oh, Maya, I’m sorry.”
I moved my closed lips slightly at the sympathy. I was used to it—and it hadn’t just been with Jeff or with my mother. My first taste with sympathy had been with my father. And just like Jeff, he had been a hero but in a whole other sense. He was a legend…the sports kind.
“It was right after the Stanley Cup parade. My dad wanted to celebrate with his family in Canada. They had done so much for him and his career—the lessons, the money, the time. My mom didn’t go because she had been so busy attending the games, watching me, hosting the post-party at our house, and then the hot heat of the parade. She was tired and just needed a break. If she would have gone, I probably would have been an orphan that much sooner.”
“Maya…” He touched the side of my face.
“I remember I loved being in that parade. I was right beside my dad. He was in his jersey and me in a mini-version. We were in the back of a huge, dark pickup, and I was waving to the crowd and throwing out complimentary T-shirts. Everyone was so happy—the crowd, my parents, me. And then it was all gone. I hate hockey. I associate hockey with driving to Canada. I associate hockey with the end.” I couldn’t help it. I turned a little so I couldn’t see the screen. I had to.
“I’m sorry.”
“I keep trying to remember how much my dad loved it, and I should, too, you know, to honor him. But I just can’t.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me what your dad did?”
“You never asked.”
“No,” he admitted. “I guess not. I guess I just figured it was a sensitive subject for you.”
“But the thing is, he wasn’t a famous hockey great to me. He was just my dad—a great one.” I smiled. “And he chose to play hockey…and be good at it.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Kind of like Finn.”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess.” The words came out slowly as thoughts materialized in my mind. “Go. Watch the game.”
“Maya… You sure? I don’t have to.”
“Yeah. You want to, and I think I just might have some writing to do.”
I pecked him on the lips. He didn’t realize how much he had helped just by listening. And it had given me an idea.
***
Hours after the Preds lost the game but mere moments after the concert concluded, Hawk found me in a quiet, open, grassy area behind the parked buses. The blog I was writing was a little different than most of the others I had previously written. And because of that, I was having a bit of the infamous writer’s block.
“Hey.” He lowered himself to the ground where I sat pretzel-style, laptop in lap.
“I just can’t seem to get this right.” I breathed out a slightly frustrated burst of air. “It needs to have that ahhh ending.”
“You’ll get it.” He moved to adjust his body directly behind mine. His legs were stretched out flanking either side of my slightly crossed ones, his head went to the side of mine, and his right hand softly stroked my thigh, which was only partially covered by my jean shorts.
It was exactly what I needed. I needed a pause…a break. I needed comfort. I needed him. And again, his closeness was new and appreciated and welcomed.
“Thanks,” I said and hoped he knew it was for the encouragement, as well as the way he held me.
“All your other blogs have been great.” His face pressed up against mine.
“You’re reading them?” I turned as much as I could.
“Maybe.” The inflection in his voice told me he had purposefully chosen that word because it echoed his statement back in the hotel in the Keys when he had first kissed me. “Maybe,” I had come to recognize, was his equivalent to “for sure.”
I placed the laptop on the ground to the side of us and carefully turned around so I was sitting on his legs with mine wrapped behind his back. “Sometimes it helps to take a break from what I’m writing and come back to it with a fresh pair of eyes.”
“Okay,” he replied slowly—his hazel eyes not leaving mine.
Our mouths were on each other’s then, moving in the rhythmic sync we had come to know. His hands scooted my bottom so I was more snug against him, as I opened my mouth and let our tongues meet. I was losing all sense of place and time with the sensations electrifying my body.
When his hands searched under my loose, white sleeveless top and found first my stomach and then my bra-covered breasts, I moaned. I couldn’t help it. It felt so good. It felt so right. It felt like it had been so long since I had felt.
My moan vibrated into his mouth and he broke our lip lock momentarily to say my name followed by, “God, girl, what you do t—”
“Wheels roll in ten!” It was Toot—the head of transportation on the road. He was calling out a general announcement, walking past all the trailers. The buses were pulling out earlier that night so we could get to a legitimate rest area the following day for a real break…even if it was just for a couple hours.
Hawk let out a different type of moan and his hands slowly moved away from my torso. Our clothed bodies were still pretty well interlocked and our faces were just inches apart. I searched his face—from his eyes to his mouth. It was there. It was definitely there—the sparks. I knew we had connected in so many ways, but this was the magnetism. There was no denying it. I wanted him. When a bout of shyness swept over me, I looked down, as if my actions just seconds before hadn’t revealed all I felt.
He tilted my head back up and kissed me one more time. “Well, that will give me something to think about all night.”
“Yeah,” I agreed softly and then secured the laptop in my hands.
“C’mon.” He gently lifted his body and mine until we were both standing. “Good night, Maya,” he said, when we had walked the few steps to my trailer door.
“See you tomorrow.” I kissed him quickly and entered the bus.
I tried to talk with the other girls in our bus, but my mind was elsewhere…singularly, solidly, sweetly elsewhere. I don’t know if they noticed. I don’t really know if I cared.
Once the bus started to roll, I retreated to my bunk. I didn’t even take my clothes off to change into my regular pajama attire. I wanted to remain in the clothes he had touched me so passionately in. I lay there in my bunk and stared once again at the computer screen—a concluding sentence suddenly, magically materialized. I typed with satisfaction, reread the entire thing, and then shut down my computer. It was then that my phone, sitting innocently next to my laptop, lit up and vibrated. I smiled and nearly teared up when I saw the text. It was a stock photograph of a parked, red Volkswagen Bug.
XXOO, I texted back without hesitation or internal debate. It was what I felt. It was what I meant. And I believed he did, too.
***
For the next day’s stop, Finn had bought out a campground well in advance. We would spend part of the day there. We could legitimately stretch out, shower, eat, relax. It provided camaraderie to those who needed the social aspect or the space to find solitude for those who just needed a break from everyone else. A few weeks before, I would have definitely fit into the latter category. But between being able to find alone time throughout the tour and simply enjoying being with everybody, I found myself eagerly joining in as a member of the sand volleyball game. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was on Hawk’s team…and he was wearing just gray board shorts, which accentuated his athletic frame beautifully.
Our team had just scored off my great, but by chance, placement of the ball across the net. Extending a high five, Hawk slid me up slightly into his secure arms and kissed me. It was open and exhilarating and definitely brought flashbacks of the night before.
But it was interrupted by the master of the parade. “Maya?” Finn called out. He was less than fifty feet away from the volleyball court, standing on a slightly raised hill.
“Yeah?” I swiped at a piece of hair, which had fallen from my loose ponytail.
“Can I see you a sec?” Finn was definitely speaking to me, but the collective volleyball bunch all halted.
“Sure,” I answered and started to naturally step away from Hawk.
“Today’s not good,” Hawk gruffly whispered as he squeezed my hand and handed me my red, white, and blue cover-up.
“What?” I questioned, but didn’t wait for an answer.
I was in too good of a mood. The sun was bright. Everyone was relaxed. The tour was going well. My job was fantastic. And I felt so comfortable and happy with that man behind me who I knew was watching me climb the small hill.
Shaking the flowing top over my shoulders to partially cover my tie-dyed crop tank and gray shorts, I approached Finn. “What’s up?”
“The blog.” His first two words came out short and plain, but the connecting question was much terser. It mimicked his hands, which were grasping tightly at both sides of his loose, white shirt. “What were you thinking?”
“Wha—” I started, a little thrown by his demeanor.
Not only was his tone the exact opposite of the game I had just left, but it was uncharacteristic of Finn. Sure, we all had our moments of crankiness, especially right before a show and when we had been working on limited sleep. And Finn had been noticeably stressed those first few days of the tour but with due reason…and Hawk had warned me then. Was that what he had just done a couple minutes before…cautioned me about Finn’s disposition?
Before I could ponder any further or even complete my question, Finn amputated my sentence. “I thought we talked about not mentioning the kids. I know”—he emphasized that word—“we did.”
“I didn’t—” I started to explain but was immediately cut off again.
“And this thing about my pop?” His voice, while not yelling, actually escalated another notch. “You didn’t know him. He has nothing to do with being out here—the road experience.”
“I thought I was using kids in a generic sense of the term.” I managed to get a complete thought in that time. I didn’t feel like I was necessarily defending my choices regarding the blog, but I did want to explain, especially because it was the one I had been working and agonizing over. And, while he was my boss, I was confident of my own skills and capabilities and had always known Finn to respect that. “And the public knows you have kids, Finn. They—”
“But I told you not—”
“Okay.” It was actually me who stopped him that time.
Realizing he had the final say and I needed things to stay genial with him, I apologized for what he interpreted as a misdemeanor. It was easy on my part. Finn Murphy was not a second-hand paperback writer I needed to fight with regarding correctly promoting his book. He was a superstar with an unparalleled career and, honestly, one of the nicest people I knew. And I would be more than happy to do what needed to be done.
“The part with your dad?” I continued. “I’m sorry. I thought the whole thing would be a change of pace—just something to honor you and your dad and all the fathers out there today.” I spoke of Father’s Day. “I didn’t post it. You know I wouldn’t until it got your approval.”
“I should hope not.”
“Okay, man, ease up.” It was Hawk.
I hadn’t heard or seen him approach. Finn and I had been in too intense of a conversation. But there he was beside us, sporting the form-fitting, white tank top he had previously discarded mid-volleyball game.
“She said she was sorr—” my defender continued.
“Hawk…” Finn’s voice was as firm as his stare at his friend. “You better know how to separate business and pleasure.”
I shut my eyes, hoping for calm or maybe a rewind. It was one of the last things I wanted Finn to say. In the back of my mind, I had been a little concerned if my blossoming relationship with Hawk would be an issue, since we sort of worked together. It hadn’t seemed to be, though. Everyone knew and even embraced it. But then, there it was—Finn’s comment.
And even worse was Hawk’s reaction. “What? What!”
“Hawk!” I tried to halt the confrontation, which seemed to be looming. I purposefully widened my eyes at the bearded man whose ego was flexing as much as his biceps had been during the game. “I’ve got this.”
I knew Hawk was frustrated. He had a practical death stare going on at Finn. But when he looked at me, and I pleaded with my eyes, as well as used the word “please,” he stalked more than walked off. I didn’t mean for him to leave. I just wanted him to calm down. I wanted everyone to calm down. The blog wasn’t worth it. It was an easy fix. I just wasn’t sure keeping my job or my relationship was going to be.
I started with the one in front of me. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize for someone else.” Finn used, ironically, a fatherly tone. “He and I will be okay. That was nothing.”
Oh. Well, that was news to me. “Me then,” I said, needing to recover.
Finn was calmer when he spoke but just as adamant. “I get where you were trying to go with the blog, and I know it is personal for you—your father having been not only your dad but a well-known figure.”
“Hawk told you.”
“Yeah. Should he not have?”
“No. It’s fine. It’s not a secret.”
“Maya, I get it. I just don’t want it.”
“All right.” Simple enough.
Finn went on to explain. “It’s just my dad didn’t die that long ago.”
“I get it. It’s all right. Can I write something else?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he answered, putting me a little more at ease. Finn tilted his chin in the direction of where Hawk had retreated—yards away, standing solitary and staring in the opposite direction of us. “Maybe write about how frustrating it is that there’s no privacy on these tours.” Returning his gaze to me, he let the silence indicate he understood how it felt to be in a relationship on the road. “And if it’s okay, I want to keep the blog. It was beautifully written. Maybe someday you can help me make it into lyrics—a tribute to both our dads.”
Truly touched, I told him so. “I would be honored. I’ll get a new blog to you soon.”
“Okay.” He tried a smile and walked toward where I knew his trailer was located.
I took a deep breath. I needed to calm myself after my first real professional debate with a boss I admired and was glad to be employed by. And I also had to prepare myself for dealing with the other important male in my life.
“Hawk?” I asked tentatively, as I approached him from behind.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even turn to face me. When I started to say his name again, he asked in a controlled, stoic manner, “Everything settled?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
“Great,” he said with a sarcastic undertone and finally swiveled around. “You don’t need me, then.” He blinked his eyes and started his stride past me.
Having lived with a man, a cop at that, for many years, I recognized and understood the male macho pride—how incredibly solid and, at the same time, fragile it was. I knew I had a fine line to tread with Hawk. “Hey,” I tried in a soft voice, while reaching out for his moving arm. “That’s not…you just didn’t need to defend me.”
He stopped and faced me. His response was matter-of-fact…the fury obviously still bubbling underneath. “He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
“You warned me.” I just hadn’t listened or investigated further.
“Nevertheless.”
“What Finn said was right,” I tried. “This is my job. What I wrote was my choice. It was my mistake. I, alone, have to live up to it.” When Hawk didn’t say anything—good, bad, or ugly—I knew I had to provide more. “I know it’s kinda in your nature. It’s what makes you so much you…your need to protect. Just, when it comes to my job, you can’t, Hawk,” I said with a little bit of pleading, while tagging on the most honest part. “It worries me what Finn said to you.”
“He has some room to talk, bringing his wife and kids with him.”
“Don’t.”
That was apples and oranges. That was spite. That was not true. And if Hawk was calm, he would agree. But even worse, if Finn heard what Hawk said, it would ruin everything for everybody. Again, just because of macho chest-bumping.
My one word must have come out as fearful as my internal thoughts because Hawk softened his tone and said, “Maya, he’s on board with us.”
“I thought so, too. Let’s just not give him a reason not to be.”
I let my eyes wander all over the dark scruff of his handsome face. I searched his deep eyes, his mouth, the crinkle between his eyebrows, trying to read what he was feeling. But he didn’t give me anything.
With a semi-sigh, I touched his hand. “I gotta go find somewhere quiet and write a new blog.” On Hawk’s more audible moan, I said, “I need to make things better with him. You’re not gonna go and…” I let my sentence trail off, looking the direction of where Finn and I had been standing.
Hawk understood and was at least calmer. “I’ll stay out of his way. I knew it was going to be a rough one with his dad.”
“I’ll see you,” I said, and then tacked on, “Sometime.”
“Yeah,” was his one-word response.
We had ended things better than mere moments before when Hawk had stomped off from Finn and me. Yet there was something lingering. Something had changed or maybe even needed to change.