Izzy’s hand reaches for mine under the table. I brush my thumb over her wrist in slow, steady sweeps. I tell myself it’s to help her, but I think it’s the only thing calming me down.
“She shows up for people, no matter who it is, better than some people show up for their own family.”
“Like anyone in Merritt Point needs help,” her mom snorts. “Wrong income bracket for sure.”
“Her success has nothing to do with me. She has a brilliant mind for business.” I put my hand on the back of Izzy’s chair. “And she’s incredibly determined. I love that about her.”
Silence sucks the air from the room. My pulse is drumming in my ears. Izzy’s throat works as she swallows, her eyes glassy. She doesn’t look at me when she pushes back her chair. “I’ll get dessert.”
On the way home, she stares out the window.
“You okay?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. My head’s a mess after that shit show, and I figure she needs space to untangle hers too.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t.” My hands tighten on the wheel. “Don’t apologize for them.”
She shrugs, scoffing. “Usually, it’s worse.”
I guessed, but still not what I wanted to hear.
“Your mom seemed pretty comfortable letting you handle everything in the kitchen.”
“She’s having a hard time.”
“So are you. You’re wearing yourself out, Iz.” I glance over. She doesn’t look away from the window. “But you’re too busy saving everyone else to notice.”
“That’s not?—”
“When’s the last time she asked howyouwere doing? Not what you could give her. Just…you.”
Her jaw tightens. “You don’t understand. She’s my mom. I have to—” Izzy brushes back her bangs with a sharp, frustratedswipe, then turns to face me. The passing streetlights cast orange shadows across her face. “Why do you fight?”
“What?”
“Why do you keep fighting when you’re hurt? When you shouldn’t?”
The question blindsides me. “It’s my job.”
“I’m not an idiot. Plenty of players don’t rack up as many penalty minutes as you.” Her voice stays quiet, but every word lands. “So, no, I don’t buy it. You fight because you think it proves something. That you’re tough. Worth keeping around.”
My chest tightens.
“And I keep fixing everything for everyone because I think that proves I’m good enough. Responsible enough. Worth keeping.”
The light turns red. I stop but can’t look at her.
“We’re both trying to earn something we shouldn’t have to earn,” she says quietly.
Fuck, she’s right.
My whole life, I’ve been the guy people like because I make things fun. Easy. I hate it. And somewhere along the way, I turned that around on the ice. I made sure I didn’t keep the peace. At least then, sometimes, I could breathe. I wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Where are we going?” she asks when I drive past the center of Merritt Point.
“Have something I need to show you.”
