Hearing a big, tough guy like Patrick call his motherMommyturned me to mush, and I brushed wetness from my eyes. Emotional, I took out my phone, hoping maybe I could use it as a sign.
“Mom? It’s Fallon.”
“I know. Your number came up. Is everything all right? You’re not sick, are you?”
“No. I-I just thought maybe it would be nice to talk. It’s been years.”
“Are you back living in New York City?”
Encouraged that she hadn’t hung up on me, I took the crumbs she gave me. “Yeah. In Tribeca. I was working for Devlin—you remember him, he was Rory’s best friend.”
“It’s very cruel, you know.”
“Cruel, how?”
“Bringing up Rory’s name. Thirteen years he’s gone, and I miss him every day.”
Tears overflowed. “You think I don’t remember? But couldn’t that be a new start for us? You’re right, Mom. It’s been thirteen years. Haven’t I paid enough of a price yet?”
As if she didn’t even hear me, she said, “I’m sure he would’ve been married and I’d have had grandchildren. I’ve lost out on so much.”
It was always about her. “He was my best friend.”
“You can make other friends. I can’t make another son.”
“You already have another son. Me. Why can’t you love me as much as you did Rory?”
In the background, I heard a commotion. “Fallon? Why are you upsetting your mother?”
My father always had a way of putting me in the wrong. “I wasn’t. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you mean. All these years of silence, and then you call and make your mother cry?”
I couldn’t help it and snapped. “You could’ve called me, you know. I’m still alive. I’m your son, too.”
“Call us when you’re more rational. You people are always so emotional. Good-bye, Fallon.”
Holding the dead phone in my hand, I squeezed my eyes shut.
You people.
No matter what, I’d never be good enough for my parents.
**
The next morning, in the car to the airport to pick up Patrick’s parents, I was still trying to put that whole disastrous conversation out of my mind. I spotted Patrick’s parents themoment they walked into the arrivals area, each wheeling a bag. Patrick’s father was a big, stocky man with a shock of thick silver hair, and his mother wore her dark-brown hair in a simple ponytail. Both were dressed in joggers and sneakers. Patrick’s mother wore a puffer vest over a Kings’ hoodie, while Patrick’s father had on a Kings’ jersey with Patrick’s number and cap. They held hands, and I smiled to myself because they looked so cute.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sloane. Hi, I’m Fallon, Patrick’s personal assistant. Please follow me. I have a car waiting to take you to his suite.”
Patrick’s mother gave me a big hug. “Fallon, hi. Patrick told us all about you. So nice to meet you. I’m Lori, and this is Don. No Mr. and Mrs., please.”
Don stuck out his hand. “Good to meet you. I have to say I’m looking forward to keeping my boots on the ground for a while. All this running around’s got me tired as hell.”
I laughed as we approached the Mercedes I’d hired. The driver opened the door for us. “Patrick texted me and said he should be in later this afternoon. It won’t take us longer than half an hour to get to the hotel.”
We got settled, and Lori said, “This is our first time in New York City. I hope we get to see the sights. I know Patrick has training camp, but maybe you could tell us how to get places?” She had that open, friendly Midwestern smile, and inwardly I cringed, thinking of them walking by themselves through the city. Plus, Patrick would probably cut my balls off if I left his parents alone.
“I’ll be happy to take you anywhere you’d like to go. I’ve lived here all my life.”
