Page 92 of What About Us

“Yeah, it’s serious.”

“You feel safe? Cared for? Nothing I need to come take care of?”

I shake my head, a smile flirting with my lips. “No, I’m good. We’re good. He won’t hurt me.”

“If that changes, I’m a phone call away.”

“I know.” It’s a whisper because I don’t want my voice to crack. “I’m glad you called.”

“No more keeping this kind of stuff from me, little girl. We agreed on that when I left. You’re supposed to tell me when you need me. I can’t read your stubborn mind.”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Okay, I promise to call you the next time the bar burns down.”

“Always were a smart-ass. I love you, kiddo. Be good.”

“Always. Love you too. I’ll talk to you soon.”

We hang up, and I pull my hand down my face, and when I look up, Xander’s standing about ten yards away, leaning on a lamppost, his hands in his pockets and face relaxed.

When I stand, he walks over to me and pushes his fingers into my hair.

“That looked serious,” he says.

“It was Chris.” I swallow hard. “My mom showed up there, Xander. In Boise. She checked herself out of rehab.”

His eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t even look a little bit surprised.

“You knew she’d do that.”

“I had my suspicions. How are you?”

“Not surprised. Irritated. Resigned.” I shrug a shoulder and lean into his touch, soaking him up. “There’s nothing else anyone can do for her. She has to figure it out for herself, and I’m washing my hands of her. And now, I need to go in there and buy myself a jersey for the game tonight.”

A smile spreads over his face. “No way, wildcat. You’re wearing one of mine.”

I lift an eyebrow as excitement fills me. “Really? Like, one of your official ones?”

“My girl, my jersey.” He loops his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the store. “But we’ll find other things to buy.”

“Oh, definitely. I need a hat. And probably a couple more T-shirts.”

“You can have anything you want.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

XANDER

Idon’t remember the last time I attended a hockey game that I wasn’t playing in. And that’s not because my memory is shady as fuck.

It’s because it hasn’t happened since I was a kid. I don’t watch hockey. I own hockey. I destroy the puck, the ice, and I don’t fucking sit out.

Definitely not for a whole goddamn season.

Except, this year, that’s exactly what I’m doing. And I fucking hate it. I was fine during the offseason. No one was playing, so it was easy to pretend that I’d be joining my team when it was time to start training. But now I’m here, in our arena on opening night, and I’m not warming up on the ice with my team.

I did a round of media interviews when we first arrived and kept Ivy in my sight the whole time. I want her nearby, and she didn’t disappoint me, making sure she was right there to smile at me, to be my support system.

Finally, I was able to bring her up to our box. I keep a box here every season for my family when they come for games. They don’t all come at once very often, but at least once a month someone is in town, and I want them to be comfortable. On nights that I don’t have a need for it, the arena can rent it out. They ask me a week in advance.