Those are the people I want to give everything to. Not the woman across from me.
My eyes fall on her purse. It’s designer, but at least a decade old at this point, and all the pieces fall into place. “When did he leave you?”
I have no idea what the man she left us for looks like, though I’ve tried to picture him for years, wondering what she saw in him. He breezed through town for work, taking my mother away on his private jet. But deep down, I know exactly what she saw in him. She saw dollar signs, enough to leave her family.
My mother’s shoulders straighten, holding faux confidence as if the reason she’s here has nothing to do with the bankroll that left her. “Six years ago.”
Figures. Right after I got into the league, she started trying to worm her way back into my life.
“Do I have any siblings I should know about?”
She exhales a disbelieving laugh. “No.”
I nod repeatedly. “Okay. Don’t call me again.”
Her hazels dart to mine. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
I watch as the wheels turn in her mind. “I know how secretive you are from the press. I know things they’d love to know. Things they’d pay to know.”
She’s desperate now, grasping for straws.
“Go for it. I’m not hiding anymore. You want to tell them what a terrible mother you are and throw yourself under the bus, be my guest. I kept you hidden because I was embarrassed that my own mother couldn’t love me, but there’s nothing for me to be embarrassed about. I’m enough. Lindsey is enough, but it’s you who places value on all the wrong things. When you go, who is going to be there for you? Your purses? Your shoes? Your money? That’s a sad life, Mom, and I’m not angry at you for it anymore. I feel bad for you.”
How the hell did this woman cause me so much panic over the years? She’s not worth it. She never has been. The desperation is seeping out of her, and it’s pathetic. In fact, looking at her now, I feel nothing. She means nothing to me.
“You know I blamed Dad for you leaving? You weren’t here for me to be angry at all these years, so I was angry at him instead. But that man stuck around and worked his ass off for Lindsey and me. You did him a favor by leaving. He deserves so much more than you.”
“Evan—”
“You should go.” I stand from my chair, Rosie at my side.
My mother hesitates, her brows lifting in disbelief. She gathers her bag and smooths out her top as she stands. I lead her to the door, sensing her following behind reluctantly.
“Your flight leaves at two, and you’ll be checked out of your hotel in an hour, so I’d hurry and pack your things if I were you.”
“What?” She stands in the hallway outside my apartment in shock.
“Thanks for not loving me enough to stay, Mom. It made it a lot easier to recognize the people who do.”
I close the door on her partway, but change my mind.
“Oh, and you should really retire that bag. Outdated if you ask me.”
Okay, that was petty as fuck, but I couldn’t help it. Closing the door, I lean back on it, feeling the freest I have in twelve years.
Once I pass security, I essentially run across the tarmac at Chicago’s O’Hare airport, racing towards the plane. I’ve been dying to talk to Stevie while trying to respect her boundaries of needing time.
The Stanley Cup Finals start tomorrow with game one in Pittsburgh, and I’ve been itching to get this road trip started for reasons outside of hockey. It took everything in me not to call her after my mom left yesterday, but we’re going to have three days in Pittsburgh together, and I’ll be able to explain it better in person anyway.
I hope she’s proud of me. I think she will be.
Coaches, staff, and my teammates litter the aisle as I wade through the crowd to my seat in the exit row. Standing on my toes, I look over the boys’ heads and into the back galley for Stevie, but there are too many people in my way.
Taking my seat, my knees bounce, anxiously waiting for her to come do the safety demo. Everything will be okay. It has to be.
“Jesus.” Maddison plops into his seat next to me. “You fucking sprinted out here.”
“Sorry.” I look towards the back galley again but find no sign of Stevie. “I get to talk to her today, so I’m just anxious.”
“Don’t worry,” Maddison reassures. “She’s going to understand. Just tell her everything.”
After Stevie’s name got released, I was worried she’d be fired. But she’d tell me if she had, and I haven’t heard a word from her yet.