Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,99

place a cup on the bar top for him.

“Thank you, Papa Bear!” The twins croak together.

“You can have your snack and play in the playroom for only a little bit, okay? We have to get ready for Uncle Peck’s game and dinner with your cousins.”

“Yay!” They enthusiastically squeal, jump, and, repeatedly, chant the excited stance.

Seeing Peck play whenever his team comes to town is one of the few times the crew all manages to get together. Between separate lives, careers, and families, it’s not always easy getting the entire group in the same spot, though we do try. Rutledge, Stratton, Gillette and I get more opportunities to have the occasional brewski or BBQs than we do with Peck and his family due to his travel schedule. We knew after graduating there would be a shift. What we didn’t expect was all of our significant others to work as hard as they did in the beginning to help keep us connected. I don’t know if the other guys ever thanked them for it.

I made sure to.

Shel and Rox race for their playroom on the opposite end of our one-story house while their Dad saunters closer to me.

I offer him a sweet smile and a small head tilt at the beverage. “Drink it. You need it.” Crash prepares to argue when I add, “You’re off center. You went straight from rehearsals to the airport to picking up the girls from dance, despite the fact I told you I could’ve gotten them-”

“I wanna be there for them, too!”

“I know, baby,” I calmly say, arms curling around his waist, “but by being there for them, you neglected being there for yourself. You didn’t get the chance to decompress, so now you’re cranky.”

“I’m not cranky.”

“I don’t believe you even a stiletto bit.”

His smile that I live to see as much as my daughters’ is flashed my way.

Self-care is important in this household. It’s become an important principle, right along with what we eat. It’s easy to neglect, especially in family dynamics, so like my parents did when they had me, we wrote down some goals and areas we would make sure we worked at. Self-care and teaching self-care were almost at the top. We want our daughters to understand taking care of you and loving yourself will allow you to help take care and love others. The set of lessons came from the counseling sessions Crash took like I asked, along with some advice from Dad about how to not lose yourself completely while building with someone else. Crash and I assist in it for one another by taking the girls out to give the other one a moment alone to regroup. I usually spend time reading poetry – Big Queen Z is still a fave – and my husband usually does facials. We teach the girls that it’s okay to have alone time by allowing them to have separate interests, watch separate shows, and, on the occasion, sleep in separate rooms. They don’t particularly love that one, though.

“Drink.”

Crash leans over to grab the beverage yet remains in my arms.

I love it when he’s here.

I hold him like this as much as possible.

Face to face so he always knows I know it’s him here with me and at the waist, so he never feels trapped.

I let the girls see us engage in loving embraces and kisses, wanting them to understand love has different looks and displays. I didn’t shy away from explaining Crash’s and my matching, tiny ghost tattoos were gotten out of love or that they are in strange places – mine on my ribs and his over his heart – for sentimental reasons unique to us. I never want them to be ashamed of who they want to be with when the time comes. I never want them scared that we won’t accept it. I never had that fear. Crash never had that fear. We don’t want them to have it either.

After he has a sip and releases a pleased hum, I ask, “How were rehearsals?”

“As good as that shit’s gonna get this close to opening night,” he replies on a callous shrug.

His love of choreography has taken him all around the world, like I knew it would. The choice not to go to New York seemed to be the right one because, shortly after we graduated, he was offered a better job in Paris to choreograph a modernized version of Chicago. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and one he refused