Every other weekend and rotating holidays. That’s what she’d get. It wouldn’t be enough. Not with Catriona going off to college and moving out of the house.
The idea of living in an empty house crashed into her like a freight train. Not to mention the fact her son didn’t want to live with her anymore. Was she really that bad?
She’d have to get a cat. Or ten cats. That’s what she’d do. She’d fill the gaping void in her chest, in her life, with feline companions who looked down their noses at her like her kids did. Cats who turned their noses up at their food like her kids did, and who sprawled out and took up every inch of space—just like her kids did. It would be like they never left. Yes, that was what she’d do.
“Mom?”
“We can talk about it tomorrow when I’m home, okay?”
“Sure, Mom.” Another long pause. “And Mom?”
“Yeah?” A shiver rattled through her and she wished she’d put her coat back into the trunk of the car after she’d washed a ketchup catastrophe off it.
“Tell Coach Swift I hope his mom gets better soon.”
Emotion clogged her throat, and her heart splintered into a bazillion pieces at his sweet nature. “I will.”
He hung up and left her staring at her screen. A picture of Clare and both kids from over a year ago, she’d have to update it if they were both moving out. Cat had matured so much since the picture, and Mason had shot up so he was taller than both of them.
Another jolt of pain in her chest. Fuck. Was she such a bad mother that he couldn’t bear to live with her?
A knock on the window made her shriek. Clutching at her chest she acknowledged Elliott’s wave through the glass and unlocked the doors.
“Sorry.” He slipped into the passenger side and buckled his seatbelt. “I did try to be obvious about my approach, but you were in a world of your own.”
She forced a smile, her heart still smarting at Mason’s announcement that he wanted to move in with Alex. “You’re lucky I opted for the screaming, rather than the self-defense. I could have killed you.” She wagged her finger at him. “I’m a highly trained assassin.” At his unsmiling face, she sobered. “How is she?”
His beautiful features darkened even more, and he aged a decade right in front of her eyes. “Pretty beat up. Like I said, she slipped in the bathroom but they said she wouldn’t let anyone help her. She needed a shit ton of stitches, some wicked nasty bruising, and an attitude to boot. She thought I was dad, gave me shit about leaving her with incompetent assholes who wouldn’t even let her shower alone.”
“Did you correct her? Tell her who you were?”
He shook his head. “When she’s that worked up it makes no difference. Path of least resistance is sometimes the easiest for everyone.” He raked his palms over his face and through his hair. Tipping his head back made the street light reflect off the tears pooling in his eyes. “It’s a fucker of a disease. Some days, she’s fine. She remembers who I am, and every detail of our lives with startling accuracy. Others, she thinks it’s decades ago, that I’m Dad, or worse… she doesn’t remember me at all.”
His voice cracked, and while she wanted to envelop him in her arms and not let anything else upset him, he was fading fast. She needed to get him home so he could collapse into bed and hopefully sleep through some of his grief.
She started the car and squeezed his hand. “Let’s get you home.” She had nothing else to offer, no words of wisdom, no magic cure. He was right. Alzheimer’s was a bastard of a disease, one she knew very little about.
But one thing she did know was that nothing she said or did could cure either his mom of her illness or take away his pain. It wasn’t something one of her many mom lists could fix, and she hated it.
They drove through McDonalds on the way home to get him a cheeseburger and fries to quiet his growling stomach. As she sipped on her milkshake on the way from his house to hers, she wondered if she even had the mental energy she’d need to pursue something personal, something intimate with him.
He had a lot going on, and so did she. She was already low on mental spoons, and fuck, she barely had enough strength to bathe and feed herself, never mind help take care of another grown-ass adult. But, as she pulled into her driveway and slurped at the final mouthfuls of strawberry deliciousness, she wondered if she would ever be able to forgive herself for not taking a shot with Elliott if he was interested too.
Sure, things would be hard, but her life without him had been even harder. And her stomach hurt at the thought of going back there. She owed it to herself to shoot her shot, right? Second chances didn’t come around every day. She needed to grab it with both hands and see where it took her.
Chapter 9
Elliott
“Coach Swift, what was your strategy to ensure the Snow Pirates’ sheer domination in the third period?”
Standing in the corridor outside the locker room in Madison, Wisconsin, post-game, Elliott had no idea who this guy asking questions was. In all the years he’d been playing at their barn, he’d never met this kid before.
He had a lanyard around his neck and frantically scribbled on a notebook, so a reporter, sure, but for who? The university?
And why were they suddenly taking an interest in him? In the Snow Pirates? Or were they now interviewing the coach of every visiting team? Elliott had questions. But didn’t care enough to actually ask any of them.
The young guy paused, lifted the nib of his pen from the paper and canted his head. “Coach?”
