Emma:What does that mean?
Liam:Some games just don’t feel like a fair fight.
Liam:I’ve learned not to ask questions.
Emma:I don’t know. I haven’t watched hockey in a long time, but it kind of seemed like you guys were the instigators.
Liam:Well, when you have tripping and high-sticking happening, and the refs seem to be turning a blind eye, you tend to get a little testy about it.
Emma:Oh. I guess I missed that.
Liam:It’s fine. It happens.
Emma:I wish I could see you.
Liam: ...
Liam:It’s not a good idea right now.
Emma:Is this about those guys?
Liam:No. Yes. It’s just...not a good time.
Emma:We have things we should talk about.
Liam:I need to get my shit together. I don’t want you involved in my issues.
Emma:That’s silly. I care about you. I want you in my life. And I owe you an explanation, Liam. I’m ready to talk about things.
Liam:Not yet.
Emma:I’ll come over. Let’s talk about things.
Liam:Not yet, Emma.
Liam:Thank you for coming to the game.
Liam:I’ve gotta go.
My following text never shows as delivered.
When we reach our stop, I scoop Laddie into my arms. He stirs a little, blinking up at me, hair all rumpled and eyes heavy.
“Are we home, Mama?” he mumbles.
“We are, baby,” I whisper, carrying him.
He burrows his face into my neck. “Did we win the game?”
“Not tonight, sweetheart. But we still had fun, right?”
He nods, barely awake, arms wrapping around me tighter. “You make the best fun, Mama.”
I tuck him into bed as soon as we get home, smoothing his hair off his forehead.
“G’night, Mama. Love you.”
I press a kiss to his temple. “Goodnight, lovebug. I love you more.”
