“And Talia?” I venture. “What’s she up to?”
“She also works at the hospital, though not at the same place. We work similar shifts but opposite days, so we’re usually ships passing in the night. We hang out on Sundays, usually.”
“I’m probably lucky I got taken to your hospital on your night, then,” I say.
“Oh?”
“She’d have probably let me die,” I answer, grinning to show her I’m kidding.
Kind of.
Emma pushes her lips together, trying to hide her grin, but she loses the battle, “Well, she’s an OB nurse, so unless you’re having a baby, you’d probably be safe.”
“Well, no chance of that,” I say. “Phew.”
“Whatdidhappen?” she asks. “That night.”
I shrug. “I got jumped by two guys in a parking lot.”
“In the parking lot of the arena,” she says. “That was what the news said.”
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was just a fluke. Wrong place, wrong time. I was a little drunk and probably seemed like a good target.”
I think she has a sense that I’m not telling the whole truth because her mouth does this little downward twitch thing that I always equate to her being disappointed.
She rallies quickly, though, asking, “How’s life in the NHL?”
“I love it,” I say. This is something I can be honest about. “I hate that I can’t play right now. That part sucks, but I love playing professionally.”
“I, uh, read up on you the past few days. You left school early?”
“After sophomore year, yeah,” I say. “I got approached by an agent who told me I had a real shot at the draft. The Reapers ended up taking me in the second round. And honestly? When a team offers you that kind of opportunity, you don’t turn it down. Hockey careers are short unless you’re one of the legends. I figured I could always go back and finish school later if I wanted.”
“Do you ever wish you’d just stayed and finished?”
“No,” I say honestly. “When someone shows up and says,Go do the draft,you don’t argue. You just show up. Would’ve been stupid not to.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Emma says, sipping her coffee. “I mean, I’m proud of you for making it to the NHL, but I would have been proud if you’d finished school, too.”
She watches me for a moment, studying me as if she’s weighing whether to go further. Then she asks gently, “How’s your mom doing? I remember she… struggled.”
I stare down at my coffee. “Yeah. Still does.”
Emma’s voice softens. “Is she getting help?”
“She’s in a care facility now,” I say. “Lakeside. They keep her comfortable. She’s not really herself anymore.”
Her brows draw together, and I can tell she’s trying to find the right words. “That must be hard, Liam.”
I nod, take a slow drink instead of answering. There’s nothing else to say.
I’ve had a lifetime to make peace with who my mother is, and I still haven’t managed it.
After a moment, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Me too.”
We sit in the kind of silence that doesn’t need filling. Then I clear my throat, trying to lighten the air.
