“Whoohoo!” He pumped both hands in the air and shook his booty.
“I’ll take care of grabbing tickets.”
His eyes lit up like she’d told him he could go hang out with TJ DeSantis—his favorite Wild player. “Thanks, Mom. You’re so cool.” Mason threw his arms around her waist and hugged so tight that for a minute she wasn’t sure whether he’d let up or not. “Thanks for letting me come back, too.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat she pulled him to her even tighter, curling her arms around him and squeezing. “You will never not be welcome here, Mason. No matter what. You hear me?”
He nodded against her torso. “I thought it’d be more fun living with Dad. But…it wasn’t.” He still hadn’t let go of her and his voice was muffled as he spoke. “I don’t like her, Mom. She’s not a nice person.”
Her. The other woman. Oh, the things Clare could say. Biting her tongue, she patted his back. “That’s okay, kiddo. We aren’t always going to like everyone we meet.”
“I thought I’d like her more if I spent more time with her. But that’s not what happened. I like her even less now. My plan totally backfired and bit me in the ass.”
Squashing down the laugh bubbling up in her chest and fighting the urge to break into dance at the fact Mason agreed with her, she pulled him back from her and made him look up at her. “That’s okay, Mase. You tried, right? Now you know. If you want to keep your distance from her, that’s okay too. And if you need help talking to your dad about setting some boundaries, I can totally help you with that, too.”
“Do you think Dad will be mad at me?”
She didn’t hesitate before answering. “Hell, no. Absolutely not.”
In all honesty, he probably would be, but she wasn’t going to let him. It wasn’t Mason’s fault The Sperm Donor picked a sour-faced bitch to cheat on her with.
“I’m sure he’s grateful that you gave her a really good shot before making your decision. And your opinion of her may change as you grow older. Just because you don’t like her now, doesn’t mean you’ll dislike her forever.” Wow. How had such calm civility come spewing out of her mouth when her insides sizzled like they’d been drenched in acid?
In reality, Clare would dislike both The Sperm Donorandhis bit on the side forever—and then some. She sure knew how to hold a grudge.
“Mom?” Mason’s small voice made something in her chest twinge.
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“When are we seeing Coach Swift again? Do you think he’d sign my cast? Theo says he’s going to get all the Snow Pirates to sign it for me. Can you believe it, Mom? All of them!”
The twinge in her chest grew to an all-out twist, and she cleared her throat. “I really don’t know, Mase. He’s pretty busy right now, y’know?” Her voice was charged with tension and sadness, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it.
“Maybe we’ll see him at the game, right?”
Her stomach clenched, and her heart sped up. She wasn’t sure she could ever look at the man again without falling apart into a puddle of tears, but she had twenty-four hours to attempt to get her shit together before she had to find out.
“Yeah, kiddo. Maybe we’ll see Coach Swift at the game.”
***
Oh. Not only was Elliott fucking Swiftthere, but he saw her the minute she plonked her ass into her seat while cradling a giant foam finger with one hand and a bucket of warm, buttered popcorn with the other.
She knew he saw her, couldfeelhis eyes. She’d tried to get seats where he would be less inclined to notice her in the crowd, but it was as though he knew just where and when to look.
His eyes melted the plexi glass between them for the first two periods of the game. How he managed to coach the kids on the ice while spending so much time staring at her was anyone’s guess.
In the third period, Clare couldn’t sit still. She’d barely watched any of the damn game. For all she knew, giant clowns with banana skins as skates had taken over on the ice. If wishing made it so—then she might have a chance to escape from Elliott’s piercing gaze.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be held captive by his fucking eyes any longer.
It was as though a million ants were crawling over her skin. She needed to get out. Hockey games would remain the purview of Alex, and she’d never darken the door of the rink again. It was too much, too hard, too painful.
She might not know who was winning on the ice, but she could recall every detail about the man standing behind the players on the bench. His pale blue shirt, his more than a couple of day’s growth covering his jaw, his tired eyes, his strained smile. She had committed it all to memory.
The invisible lines that had linked their hearts together since childhood grew taut and no amount of rubbing her chest or praying for the ache to stop made her feel better. Why couldn’t he just show up for her when she needed him to? One fucking time—that’s all she had asked for.
Why the hell did he run?
