“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Maze?”
“If Mrs. Hendricks leaves, who’s going to watch me when you’re gone?”
My heart clenches. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure something out, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”
“But what if you have a game?”
“Then Grandma will come, or I’ll find someone else. Someone nice.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she asks, “What if they leave too?”
I don’t have an answer for that. Not one that won’t be a lie.
So I just lean down, press a kiss to her forehead, and say the only thing I can, “I’m not going anywhere, Maze. You’re stuck with me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She nods, seemingly satisfied, and closes her eyes. I wait until her breathing evens out before I slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked and the hallway light on, the way she likes it.
The townhome is quiet once she’s asleep. Too quiet.
I ice my shoulder on the couch, twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off, like Tori instructed. I’m a good boy, following her rules.
The TV is on, some hockey recap show I’m not really watching. I should be reviewing game tape, meal prepping, or answering the twelve emails from my agent that have been sitting in my inbox for three days. Instead, I’m just sitting here, ice pack melting against my skin, thinking about a woman who told me I wasn’t allowed to lie to her.
I can’t fix what you won’t admit is broken.
She was talking about my shoulder. I know she was talking about my shoulder.
But the words keep echoing anyway, bouncing around my skull, finding all the places I don’t let anyone see.
I think about Maisie’s family tree. The empty circle. The way she said,it’s supposed to be parents, like she already knows she got cheated.
I think about Mrs. Hendricks, leaving for Florida, and how the ground keeps shifting under my feet no matter how hard I try to hold it still.
I think about Sienna, who decided Maisie and I weren’t worth staying for. Who walked out when Maze was six months old and never came back.
I think about my shoulder, and the six to eight weeks I don’t have, and the career that’s the only reason I can give my kid the life she deserves.
And I think about Tori, with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, who smiled at me over tacos and didn’t flinch when I tried to push her away.
I can’t fix what you won’t admit is broken.
Maybe she wasn’t just talking about my shoulder.
Maybe that’s the problem.
3
THE EX FILES
Tori
One week into Zayden Bishop’s rehab protocol, and I’ve learned three things.
