“Is that why you always told Dad everything was fine?” I ask.
She meets my gaze. “It’s possible. Your dad’s job has always been public and maybe that impacted my choices. But you’ve grown up in this world. Phillip won’t always play professional hockey.”
“I know.” I roll my bottom lip between my teeth. “The media stuff has been hard, but that’s not what I’m most worried about.”
“Does the fact that he’s divorced scare you?”
“I just…I love him. I’ve never felt this way before. He has my whole heart. And what if we build this life together and it all falls apart? I don’t want that.”
“Oh, my sweet girl.” Mom smooths her hand over my hair, her expression sad and knowing. “We can’t predict the future, but you can take what you’ve learned, good and bad, from me and your father, and do your best not to make the same mistakes we did.”
“I’m trying.”
“Does he know how you feel?”
“I haven’t told him. I don’t know if he feels the same.”
“It’s hard to put your heart on the line. Especially when it’s been broken before. He wouldn’t be this scared if he didn’t have deep feelings for you.”
“I just need him to feel safe enough with me to admit them.”
CHAPTER 50
FLIP
Tristan and I are meeting at the Pancake House in a couple of hours, which means I can either stew in my own self-loathing, regret and fear, or I can make a trip to the retirement village. I’m long overdue for a Gurdy visit. I sign in with Jerico at the front desk.
“Boy, you’ve been a hot topic the last few months,” he notes as I scribble my name, who I’m visiting, and my phone number and email on the sheet.
“Yeah.”
“Gurdy will be happy to see you’re alive. There were some bets floating around about you maybe disappearing and your coach being the reason.”
“It’s still not out of the question. If I go missing, have them search his house for the murder weapon. But it’ll probably be my hockey stick and he’ll likely put it through a woodchipper.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“It was last night’s nightmare.” I hold my fist out. “Stay cool.”
“As a cucumber.”
I leave him and go in search of my favorite retirement homegrandma. Mine are long passed, so Gurdy is a beautiful stand-in. I feel shitty that I haven’t been keeping up my regular visits.
I find her in the common room, which is typical. Gurdy is a social butterfly and loves being in the middle of all the action. She knows all the tea. Who’s dating who, who gave who chlamydia, who the hound dogs are.
“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gurdy holds out her hands and I help her to her feet. She’s all of five foot one and could probably fit in one of my pant legs.
Her white hair is permed. Her gnarled fingers soft, the skin thin and delicate. I try to picture Tally as an old lady. She’ll have sore feet, and all my joints will ache from hockey. We’ll need a hot tub. If she stays. If she doesn’t break up with me.
Gurdy doesn’t let go of my hand once she’s standing. I bend so I can link our arms.
“I’m sorry I’ve missed a couple of dates.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“It’s no excuse.”
“It’s every excuse. You’re young and you should be living your life, not hanging out in retirement homes with people who smell like they’re two weeks away from being underground.”
