Page 141 of Keeping Score

I opened my mouth to do just that, not even bothering to turn in their direction when Maggie’s expression made me pause.

Her eyes narrowed, focusing in on the figure behind me before a look of shock registered on her face.

“Mr. Reilly?” She breathed out. “Is that you?”

I turned, finding a middle-aged man with two kids by his side. A boy and a girl—both under the age of ten. All three wearing Harbor Wolves jerseys.

“Ms. Brynn?” The man said, her own surprise mirrored on his face. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you, we just—”

“No, no. It’s fine.” She said, stepping around me, looking down at his children with an unusual expression. “Are these your kids?”

“They are.” He said. “I have them for the night.” He beamed at Maggie as if this was particularly wonderful news. And for some reason, Maggie seemed to think it was, too, based on the genuine smile that crossed her features.

“Hi,” Maggie said to his kids, who were hiding shyly by their Dad’s side, staring up at me in awe. “I’m Maggie. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“How do you know Daddy?” The younger one asked her.

Maggie looked to the man, and he cleared his throat before responding.

“Uh, we work together, sweetie.”

It didn’t take a genius to put together that this man was obviously one of Maggie’s clients, which meant this man was in some type of custody battle for the children that were right in front of me.

Thank God I didn’t tell them to fuck off, I thought.

Even though my first instinct was to do exactly that considering they interrupted the first real moment I’d had with Maggie in who knows how long.

They were cute, I noted, and they looked remarkably like the man Maggie had referred to as Mr. Reilly.

My heart went out for them all. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for any of them. My family, cramped as we had been, had stuck together my whole life.

I guess I had taken it for granted. The fact that I got to stay in one home with both my parents, instead of being swapped back and forth like luggage. There was no yelling, no fighting, no slamming of doors or words of anger.

And what I once had thought of as a relatively normal, maybe even boring upbringing—I now saw for what it was: unbelievable luck.

And more so, I couldn’t imagine that Maggie had to deal with shit like that every day. The clients and the court cases and every little detail into these people’s hellish home lives. It was depressing as hell, if I were being honest. And it explained a lot of the cynicism in Maggie’s way of seeing the world.

I’d always known her job, of course. But seeing the real people affected? It wasn’t just a blurry image in my head anymore. It was real and tangible proof of the weight that Maggie carried every day. I didn’t think it was something I could shake off.

And even though she never admitted it, I know it killed Maggie that her own father had never even made an attempt to get partial custody.

He’d been willing to walk away from it all, her included. And for the first time, I was realizing what that knowledge might do to a person.

If her own father could walk away from her, if her father could not fight for her—why would she ever believe that anyone else might?

“Hey, kids.” I said, scooting down in front of them, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions currently taking over. “Did you guys have fun at the game tonight?”

“Yeah!” They both cried in unison.

“I’m sorry I didn’t play so well.” I winced dramatically. “If I’d have known you two were in the audience, I would’ve done a lot better.”

They giggled.

“But hey, I can promise you next time you come, I’ll make sure I don’t let any of those pucks into the net, okay?”

They both started babbling, acting as if we were the oldest of friends, while I saw Mr. Reilly watching us from the corner of my eye with something like overwhelming fondness for the kids. And gratitude towards me.

Huh. I thought. Gratitude for simply taking two minutes of my day to talk to some kids.