Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,100

to go on without me. We left in late August and spent a year abroad. Balancing life in a foreign place was somewhat difficult, but we refused to give up. I took a few more extended nutritional classes, experimented with new cuisines, and set up an easy, yet lucrative, online food consulting business where the main focus was to change a person’s relationship with food. Betty was actually one of my first clients, and the decision to join the program not only gave her a healthy outlook it helped her self-esteem and had her recommend me to others who she thought could benefit from it, too. My and Crash’s return to the states was proceeded by him taking more offers to revamp classic shows, which would have us bouncing all around the country for a bit. I agreed to go, since I could, basically, work from anywhere, on the condition we were married before it all started. Our wedding was small but, in true Crash fashion, expensive. The next couple of years were a whirlwind that came to an abrupt halt when I decided I wanted to set up my own physical rehabilitation center that would house the program I was running on a larger scale. I was surprised at the lack of pushback and how quickly he agreed to stop moving around for a bit. We bought this house, and Crash didn’t return to choreography work until I got the company off the ground, which focused on the same things my online business did but with additional face-to-face consultations, cooking classes, and body positive fitness opportunities. Getting the twins came after our first set of long-distance months. Coach Stiles mentioned over a dinner we met him for that he had a freshman player who had knocked up a girl who didn’t want to keep the baby but didn’t want to abort it, either. On the car ride home, we discussed having a family, what we each thought having a family would be like, and decided if she wanted to let us have her child, we wanted it. Even after finding out she was gonna have two instead of the one, we were still on board. The day the twins were allowed to come home with us was the last day she ever saw them, which was her choice. We asked for her to keep our information just in case she changed her mind someday, yet we haven’t heard a single word.

I know it’s not a cookie cutter story that the girls are going to love.

I also know that it’s a crucial one for them to hear that will further help them understand how much we love them.

How lucky we consider ourselves to have them in our lives.

I love that my business allows me to be the Mr. Mom type of Dad I want to be, which includes more and more homemade food, and I appreciate Crash doing the best he can to be the least selfish he’s ever been in his whole life.

He really has gotten better about sharing his time and attention.

He still has moments where he leaves himself a little too long in the spotlight but never when or where the girls are concerned.

“How about you drink more of that,” I motion my head downward at the drink in his hands, “and give me a few more details about it?”

“Okay,” Crash surrenders suspiciously easy, “but then you have to sit on the couch with me and run your fingers through my hair – I put extra mango in it for you on the plane – while telling me all about the new athlete’s program you finally started to implement.” A bashful grin grows on my face that causes my husband to sweetly cup my cheek. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

I’ve kept my word about working on my verbally expressing my wants or needs. It hasn’t been an easy process, especially when they blatantly conflict with his. I, occasionally, still struggle with carrying more than “my share” in this relationship, but Crash has learned to recognize those moments when I don’t speak up. He’s made a good habit of trying to help and then calling me on my shit for not saying something sooner. I’m not sure I’ll ever completely shake that habit.

Protecting is what I do.

It’s what I’ve always done.

I simply traded doing it for a full-time family on the ice for a full time one off.

I still shield Crash from the pain I can, whether it’s caused by being stared