“Shit,” I mutter, the missing piece of the puzzle clicking into place. “There was a moment when we were talking that morning, after we found out about the article, where something happened. Before that moment, it felt like we could figure this out together. She was furious, but it was the good kind of mad. And then it was like a switch flipped, and she was jumping out of bed, vibrating with anxiety and primed to run.” I think back to our conversation for the millionth time this week, but now I’m seeing it in a different light. “Family,” I say, shoving a hand into my hair. “I mentioned family. I told her that everyone who knows her and believes in her is going to have her back. My family. Your family.”
Tyler nods, expression fierce. “Of course we will. No group of people on earth circles the wagons like our family. Our Boston relatives too. Literally every single one of us is primed to attack. Soph is talking about hacking that reporter’s everything just to cause her pain. If my mom hadn’t stopped him, my dad would have thrown a massive press conference for the sole purpose of telling everyone to leave you guys alone and mind their own fucking business.”
“She hasn’t talked to me,” Oliver says, and I can see in his eyes how much that hurts him. “She’s not ready yet. But if I had to guess, I would say that the idea that her family would have to answer for what she thinks she did is what made her run. I think she thought about Brian having to defend her, me answering questions about your relationship when I do post-game media, and my mom’s clients asking about it since they named her firm in the article. I bet she was thinking about your mom too, and the fallout on your kids. And I think all of a sudden, in her mind, she was a kid again. One who maybe worried about being toomuch for the people in her life. That if she wasn’t perfect, people might not want to keep her.”
Oliver runs a hand over his mouth and leans forward, forearms on his thighs and his hands dangling between his knees. I can see how much this conversation is costing him. “I’ve done some reading over the years on the long-term effects of being in foster care. I wanted to know my sister better,” he says at my questioning expression. “To understand what she’d been through and how it might affect her all these years later. One of the things that kept coming up was how kids who spend time in the system, moving between foster homes at such a young age, are conditioned to believe that love is a reward for good behavior. I’ve been wondering over the last few days if maybe, somewhere deep inside her brain, so deep maybe she doesn’t even understand it’s there, she feels like she has to be perfect. To never fuck up, because if she does…”
If she does, then maybe her family won’t want her anymore and she’ll be all alone again.
I hear the words as if Oliver spoke them out loud, and my stomach twists, the thought more painful than if he had just punched me right in the gut. It kills me that Maddy was having those kinds of thoughts while she was sitting next to me. That she was spiraling and I didn’t know. Didn’t understand why. Couldn’t fix it. If she gives me the chance, I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her. Proving to her that family—real, true family—never, ever leaves. That love means always and forever and no matter what.
“It’s trauma,” Drew says quietly, hand on my shoulder and voice as serious as I’ve ever heard it. “The kind of trauma that doesn’t just go away because you have people who love you. It’s pervasive and insidious and entirely unpredictable. It lives in your bones and becomes a part of you, and sometimes you don’t even know it’s there until something triggers it. She was triggered, Cam. That’s why she ran, and that’s why she stayed away.She might not have even understood what it was, and she’s isolating herself until she figures it out.”
My heart aches at the familiarity in Drew’s tone. Like this is something he knows well. I wonder for the millionth time how well I actually know my best friend.
“So what do I do?” I ask, my voice full of the anguish I feel that Maddy has been in pain and I didn’t know enough to see it.
“You give her time,” Oliver says. “But not too much.”
Drew nods. “He’s right. She loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
“I didn’t,” Tyler mutters.
Drew rolls his eyes. “Maybe if you were looking anywhere other than at Sophie Sullivan you would have.”
Oliver coughs out a laugh as Tyler’s expression turns mutinous. “Please explain to me how spending time with my best fucking friend is an issue because I’m not seeing it.”
“Oh, I know you aren’t,” Drew says. “But that’s a problem for another day.”
“Okay, this is cool, but back to me.”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Cam. So needy.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “One of these days, you’re going to fall ass over tits in love, and then you’ll know what it feels like to have another person be the center of your entire goddamn universe. When you do, you’ll understand.”
“No way, dude. Women are too much fucking work.”
“The AFC Championship,” Drew says, pointing at me. “That’s your deadline.”
“Definitely yes.” Oliver nods. “That’s long enough for her to be on her own. After the game, you go get your girl.”
Tyler’s face brightens. “Are we grand gesturing? I fucking love a grand gesture. I’ve been watching rom-coms for my entire life. This is my moment to shine.”
“For Maddy, I would literally pull the stars out of the sky and hand them to her if she asked me to. You better fucking believe we are grand gesturing hard.”
“Fuck yes,” Drew says, slapping his hands on his knees. “Someone order some food and put your thinking caps on. Let’s help our guy prove his love in the most epic way imaginable.”
Oliver orders pizza, and Tyler passes around drinks, and they all start talking about the grandest of grand gestures. And as for me, I just sit in the company of my friends, counting down the minutes until I get to hold my girl again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
MADDY
The chilly rink air feels like knives on my burning cheeks as I circle the ice for the millionth time. “That’s the Way it Is” blasts through my earbuds, and my breath comes in pants as I lean into the turn at the far end of the ice, swinging around the back of the net and gaining speed up the other side, the cadence of my blades slicing across the ice as familiar to me as breathing.
The building is silent, the sky outside the high windows bright with the early afternoon sun. I should be at the stadium right now, getting ready for the game. Talking to players who need me. Doing the thing I love. The thing I do best. Instead, I’m all alone in my happiest place, doing my favorite thing, but the pit that’s been sitting in my stomach since I left Cam in Denver only grows, visions of the pain in his eyes when I told him I had to leave, the determination on his face when he told me he loves me, playing in my head on repeat.
Six days.
