I think about Hazel, and my skin prickles at the similarity—how, for a long time, I was waiting for her to realize she didn’t want me. My phone buzzes again and again. And then it starts ringing. I haul it out—it’s my dad calling, fucking perfect timing—and turn it on airplane mode to block the rest of the world out before I set it face down on a side table.
“And I told myself that when I asked if you wanted to come with me, I gave you a choice—”
“I was twelve!” The words come out sharper and louder than I meant, and my mom flinches. “I was twelve years old. And you wanted me to choose between you and Dad? That’s really fucked up.”
“I know.” She nods, taking a deep breath. “I hate myself for that, Rory. I think about it every day.” She glances at the photo of us with a sad smile, throat working. “When you stayed with me, you wanted nothing to do with me. I thought you didn’t need me. Your dad told me the both of you didn’t need me, and I believed him because I wanted the best for you. But now I realize you were just being a preteen. I should have fought back. I shouldn’t have given up custody.”
“You gave up so easily.” My chest aches. “Like you didn’t care.”
“I thought it was the right thing to do.” She swallows, staring at her hands again. “If I could do it all again, I’d do it differently. I know that doesn’t erase anything, though.”
“I did need you. I still do.”
Hope rises in her gaze. “I think about you every day, honey. I have Google alerts on my phone. I watch all your games.”
I shake my head. “I thought you hated hockey.”
“I hated that hockey was becoming the only thing in your life. Your dad put hockey above all else—above me, especially—because he told himself it was the only thing he was good at.”
Like me. If only I’d talked to my mom months ago, maybe she would have told me what it took me so long to figure out. All these things we should have said years ago, but instead, we kept them to ourselves and lived our lies.
“I’m sorry I acted like a little shit,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for us.”
She gets to her feet and when I stand, she wraps her arms around my stomach, squeezing me tight. Relief and elation and acceptance and love course through me, expanding into every corner of my chest. That worthy feeling floods me.
“I love you,” she says, squeezing me, and her familiar scent washes over me, making my chest tighten with affection.
“I love you, too,” I say into her hair.
“I want to come to your games and sit in the front row beside Hazel and Jamie’s fiancée. I see Jamie’s mom sitting with them, and I want to be there, too.”
Warmth radiates through me. “I’ll get you tickets.”
“And I want to have monthly dinners with you and Hazel.”
“Done.”
It’s the future I want—talking and laughing with my mom and Hazel over the dinner table.
“Honey.” My mom glances with worry at the clock in the kitchen. “The traffic gets really bad on the bridge to downtown on game nights.”
She’s right. Attendance at pregame team meetings is nonnegotiable, especially for the captain, and even if I leave right now, I’ll barely make it.
“I love you,” I say again at the door, and the smile she gives me warms me.
“I love you, too.” She gives me another quick hug. “Now, go. I’ll be watching on TV.”
I hurry to my car. On the merge lane to the bridge, traffic comes to a standstill, and my anxiety spikes.
The bridge is an endless line of red taillights. There must have been an accident. I suck in a deep breath and go to call Streicher through my car’s Bluetooth, but it isn’t connected. My hand slips into my back pocket for my phone, but it isn’t there.
Fuck. I left it at my mom’s place, on the side table.
Traffic inches along, not fucking fast enough. I groan, gritting my teeth in frustration and impatience. Ward hates players being late—it’s the ultimate disrespect to the team, the fans, and him.
I’m stuck in the line of cars on the bridge, so all I can do is wait.
CHAPTER 77
RORY
I burst into the dressing room.
“Defense is their weakness, so play accordingly,” Ward is saying, lifting his eyebrows in disapproval while everyone stares.
“Sorry.” I’m breathing hard, gut in knots. I think I left my car door open.