I should be happy that she is doing well. I am happy. I’m just also bitter. Where was this woman when I needed her to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay?
It isn’t fair. I know that. There’s no right way to mourn, and my dad’s death rocked us all to the core.
You don’t get to tell people how to feel. Fuck. You don’t even get to tell yourself how to feel. It’s a real bitch of the human condition to be in control of everything and also nothing.
“Is everything going okay? You look good.”
“I am.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. I can’t bring myself to return the gesture. Her fingers linger and each second that passes feels like an eternity. I don’t know why I can’t just accept and enjoy her company.
She gives me one last squeeze and then pulls back. “You looked good on the ice last night, too. I still can’t believe how talented you and your brother both turned out. I can barely walk a straight line. You got your athleticism from your father. He would be so proud.”
“Can we not?”
She flinches and I wince.
Dammit. Why can’t I just sit here and let her talk about him? Partly it’s because I’m afraid that conversation leads to me telling her how bitter I feel. And what good would that do? She’s finally on her feet and I knock her down with memories of how she hurt me when she was drowning? No way.
“Can we talk about something else?” I try again.
She nods. “Sure.”
We suffer through breakfast talking about stupid shit like the weather and repairs she’s having done on the house back in Michigan. My mood sours with each bite, and I’m all too eager to head to the arena when it’s time.
Adam walks in just after I do. “Hey, man. Where were you this morning?”
“I’m sorry. Did I need to check in before I left?”
His brows raise.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m in an awful mood. Had breakfast with my mom this morning.”
He nods and takes a seat on the bench, setting his bag on the floor. “Are you two not close?”
“We are… we were. I don’t know. When my dad passed away shit was fucked up for a while.”
“Sorry, man. I can’t imagine what it’d be like if something happened to my parents. Anything I can do to help?”
“Nah. I just need to get on the ice.”
One side of his mouth pulls up into a smile. “All right.”
After the best game of my life (apparently bitter frustration works well for me), I find my mom waiting for me outside of the locker room with some of the other families, including the Scotts. Ginny smiles and approaches me.
“That was incredible. Congratulations.” She hugs me, taking me by surprise given all the onlookers, but it feels too nice to pull away.
“Thanks. Hopefully not the last time I get a hat trick.” Then I lean down close to her ear. “Maybe we can celebrate with a hat trick of our own.”
She blushes and pulls back. I accept a hug from my mom and a handshake from Kevin and from Mr. Scott.
“We should celebrate.” Adam claps me on the shoulder. “What do you feel like doing?”
Your sister.
Mav steps up, his bag slung over his body. “Party at our place. Invite the ’rents. Let’s get weird.”
“I think we’ll pass. Let you guys celebrate on your own.” Mr. Scott wraps an arm around his wife, who nods her agreement. “We have reservations for dinner.” She looks to my mom and Kevin. “Would you like to join us?”
“I think that sounds great,” Kevin says. “What do you say, Lana?”
More of the parents make plans and the guys start heading out.
Ginny’s still standing by my side, and I have the strongest urge to grab her hand.
“I’m going to find Reagan and Dakota. See you later?”
“Ride over with me.”
“But?” She glances around. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, no one will notice or care. Just give me a couple minutes to say goodbye to my mom.”
“Okay.”
My mom walks over to us before I get the chance to go to her.
Ginny smiles at her and then me. “See ya.”
Mom watches her leave, only speaking once we’re alone. A sad expression on her face as she lowers her voice. “I should have come alone and not brought Kevin. I wanted you to meet him to see that I’m happy. I thought it would give you some peace, but I see now that was my own selfish reasoning and I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted this weekend to go.”
“It isn’t Kevin. It’s us. I don’t know how to do this with you.” I motion between us. “Everything is so different.”
“I know. But I still love you just the same. I’m so proud of you.”
Love. I hate that damn word. Why does it always feel like it’s an excuse? When she says it, all I hear is, I love you, so it’s okay that I screwed up.
“Thanks, Mom. I am glad you came.”
Kevin steps up behind her. “Nice game, Heath.”
“Thanks.”
The hall has cleared, and we start toward the door. Mom hugs me tightly before we head our separate ways. “Be safe.”
I hug her back. She’s heavier now, no longer the small, fragile thing she once was. “I will. I’ll call next week.”
She nods and smiles, maybe a little disbelieving that I really will.
Ginny leans against my vehicle, her phone in hand. It’s dark and she’s all alone and I feel like an ass for making her wait for me out here like this.
I hit the unlock button and she looks up, those light brown eyes meeting mine under the fluorescent parking lot lights. Instead of going to the driver’s side, I go to her, kissing her hard out in the open where anyone might see us.
She doesn’t seem to care either, though, because she wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body to mine. And it’s the
