“Yes, but also no. You were happy in London, and even though I was conflicted about my involvement in the whole thing, I really did want you to experience it. I thought if I said something, you’d come running back, so I kept quiet and made your father promise to do the same.”
I’m not pleased that she made that decision herself, but it was so long ago that I’m not sure if I have any room to actually be mad, especially when I’m glad I stayed in London, even if it did lead Callum and me here.
“What did you and Dad do with my old bedroom?” I ask instead of laying into her about it.
“We turned it into a sewing room. Typical old-people stuff.” She winks. “Why?”
“Do you think I could stay here tonight? And maybe tomorrow too?”
“Oh, my little lucky charm, you can stay as long as you need.”
I do.
CHAPTER 23
KELLER
I’ll be back. I promise.
I read the note for the hundredth time, my eyes lingering on the words that have been underlined three times:I promise.But the thing is, she’s said that before. She’s made other promises, too—vows. Look how well she’s upheld those.
I crumple the paper and toss it across the room into the trash can by the door. Then I get up and grab it, smoothing it out and putting it back on the bedside table I found it on four days ago. Luckily for me, I’ve been sufficiently distracted with hockey. We had an event the day I woke up to a cold spot beside me, and then back-to-back games here at home. I’ve not had any time to think about my wife leaving me yet again.
Until now.
“Please tell me we’re getting together after practice. Rory is busy in the clinic all day, and I really don’t want to just be a couch potato,” Lawson says, even though he’s supposed to be running drills.
“Dude, go. You’re up.”
Hayes shoves him forward, and the Serpents’ leading goalscorer takes off toward the net, the puck on his stick. He rears his arm back and swings, sending the frozen puck right past Fox’s shoulder.
“Fuck!” the goalie yells.
He’s been extra hard on himself since that road skid we had, even in practice. We all have been. We’ve worked too damn hard to get where we are to even think about letting it all slip through our fingers now.
The assistant coach blows the whistle, then Hayes takes off. He tries the same move as Lawson, and this time Fox catches it with ease.
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” Lawson says to him, racing over to knock his fist against his helmet.
“Kells, you’re up.”
The whistle is blown again, and I take off toward the net, much slower than either of the other guys. When I drag my stick back, trying to shoot it over Fox’s left pad, I miss by a mile wide, and I don’t even care. I don’t care about much right now, actually.
“Well, that was shit,” Lawson remarks when I skate back over to the squad we’ve been broken up into. “You’re bad, but not usually this bad. What gives?”
I ignore him.
“Hello?” He taps on my helmet with the knob of his stick. “Anyone in there?”
I smack at him. “Fuck off.”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong is that you’re breathing. Mind stopping?”
“Damn, dude,” Hutch says. “A bit brutal, no?”
“He’s still here, so apparently not enough.”
