Would You Rather

48 - WYR: Little Jorgen or Big Jorgen?

FIDAN

I sneak out of bed in the morning after getting almost no sleep, barely even make coffee for fear of waking her up, and then find myself a spot to nap in the Bauer center at seven in the morning. It's sort of embarrassing.

Even more so when I wake up to a really strange half-vision of a pint-sized Jorgen and the sound of the Bauer center coffee machine.

"Dude, why are you sleeping out here?"

"Let Fidan nap, Conn."

"But why is he sleeping in the break room?"

"Unsure." Jorgen, in the corner of my eye, scoops up the kid and places him against his hip. I couldn't have lifted that thing if I tried, so, good for him?

Conn, apparently, looks back over at me with a frown.

Son. Jorgen has a son. That's Jorgen's son.

I'm sleeping in the break room and Jorgen has caught me.

I sit up, rubbing my eye. "What time is it, Jorgen?"

"Nine."

"Oh, good."

"You got time for a check-in before practice?"

"Yeah, fu..." I look back at the little one. "Sure."

"Good catch. Meet me in my office in just a minute." And he slips out the door with his literal actual child and I let myself wake up on the day, a second time, rubbing my hands through my hair.

This is a low. An incredible low for me.

Blurting out that I loved Finley and then escaping in the morning for absolutely no reason.

So I pack up my balls and I trudge down the hallway to Jorgen's office. Conn opens the door.

"Hi," I blink, looking down at him. He's got his father's frown almost exactly but his color palette, eyes and hair and skin, are all a bit more golden.

"Connor," there's a call from the back room. "Is that Fidan?"

"I think so."

"So you're Jorgen's son?"

Connor looks up at me, completely suspicious. "I prefer spawn."

I laugh at that, walking with him into his Dad's office.

"Stop telling people you're my spawn." Jorgen's smiling when we step inside and it's sort of jarring. The guy doesn't smile that much. Ever. Actually. I think I've seen him smile maybe three or four times.

"But I am your spawn." Connor sets his hands on his hips and Jorgen and Mini-Jorgen have a little frown-off.

"It's a bit weird, kiddo." Jorgen breaks the stare-off by scooping his kid up and plopping him on the counter. "Alright, Fidan, sit. You know the checklist."

"Yeah, Fidan, the checklist." Connor picks his legs up to cross them, looking at me.

"Jeez, double trouble in this office today. I'm used to only getting interrogated by one of you. And checklist, my legs are fine, no additional sensation, feel okay on the ice, um. I slept terribly last night, better in the break room, my watch says I only got about an hour and a half-"

"An hour and a half?" Jorgen looks up from the clipboard.

"Yeah, an hour and a half?" Connor adds to the statement.

"Connor."

"Dad."

Jorgen sighs, looking back over to me. "Okay, so that's not good. What do you think the issue is? And do I even want to know why you were sleeping in here this morning?"