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She hands me the laptop, her face glowing with excitement as she scoots closer to me on the couch and places the computer in my hands. “You’re a good reporter. Do your homework. I’m sure you will figure out what Kane is hiding. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. You can be the one to find his. Plus, you need the money to keep Sports Buzz alive.”
I groan, resting the laptop on my thighs and flip open the lid. “Don’t remind me. My dad already called on my way over to Tyler’s house to tell me for the hundredth time that my paper is not making any money and that Lockwood’s are winners.”
She snorts and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Your dad needs to get off your ass about that after he pissed away his money.”
“You got the same crap from your parents when you told them you were going to become a smut writer instead of going to college.”
“Well, in my defense, I didn’t need college. The advances from my publisher were insane, and money changes everything in my house—yours too, which is why you need to make some money off this story. Tyler was a jerk so forget about him, do your job, and report the news.”
“Yeah, but what if there is a child involved? I don’t want to drag a kid and his mother into a publicity nightmare. Tyler might be a giant ass, but they don’t deserve to be thrown into the spotlight.”
“Good point. So, what are you going to do?”
“For now, nothing, but I would like to find out more about his personal life. I want to know why he would hide a child. Plenty of players are private, and I don’t blame them, but Tyler looked upset, which tells me something happened that is keeping them apart.”
Sydney lowers her head, a strand of black curls falling into her eyes, and points at the screen. “Get to work, K, you have some dirt to dig.”
Feeling guilty about doing research on Tyler, I open the web browser, hoping there is nothing there for me to find.
Chapter Ten
TYLER
On the last Sunday of each month, unless I have a game or hockey related event I cannot miss, I have the same plans. I always know what I am doing on that day because it haunts me the entire month, rips me apart from the inside. I drive over to the home of Britt and Steve Hudson, all the way from South Jersey to Long Island just so I can be confronted with the worst mistake I ever made.
I choose to do this because I have so much pain, guilt, and shame on a constant basis that I need to see that my decision turned out well for at least one of us. Parked in front of their house, I sit in my car, gripping the steering wheel as I try to compose myself before getting up the nerve to go inside. For the few hours I spend in their home, I remember what it is like to have a family, feel the love and warmth of a mother and the strength and support of a father.
I am always the first one to arrive and the last to leave, stuck waiting out front for the rest of our clan to show up. From the rear view mirror, I spot my parents dark gray Mercedes coming down the street followed by Payton’s black Range Rover.
I’m always torn about how I feel when it comes to my parents and Payton. I love Payton and hate myself for it because she doesn’t deserve my love. And I hate that she drove the wedge between my parents and me, yet she has somehow brought us back together, no matter how dysfunctional the relationship.
My father is the reason I am a professional hockey player. He made sure of it. For whatever reason, he was obsessed with the sport and thought I had the athletic ability. Well, at least he was right about that. Growing up in a middle class neighborhood with a mom who didn’t work and a father who had to work two jobs just to make ends meet, we never had any money.
Dad had taken on a side job mowing lawns every summer to stash away enough money to pay for my hockey equipment and rink time. Even though we barely speak, except brief texts and our monthly visits, I did everything in my power to ensure my parents are financially set for the rest of their lives. I owe my father that much after everything he did for me.
I suck in a deep breath and let it out before I get out of my car and lock the door. My dad parks behind me, giving me a quick nod as he takes off his seatbelt. Mom holds up her hand and waves. For a few seconds, this all seems real and normal, as if we’re one big happy family. That is until Payton shuts her door and walks toward me with her four-year-old son, Noah, holding his hand.
Noah looks just like her with those big blue eyes that dominate his face, making it impossible not to notice, and the same blond hair—except his is short, and Payton’s stops right below her shoulders. The first time I saw Payton, I was fourteen and thought I was hot shit at our high school after making it onto the varsity hockey team my freshman year and could have just about any girl I wanted.
But the only girl I wanted was Payton once I spotted her in the crowded lunchroom. She made me chase her for weeks, earned my respect, and by the end of the school year, I was crazy in love with her. I had my first everything with Payton, thought she’d be alongside me once I made it big. I guess life had other plans for us.
“Tough break this season,” Dad says to me, slamming his door shut.
Of course, that’s the first thing he would mention. Because why would we have a conversation about anything other than hockey?
“Yeah, we’ll get them next year.” I try to play it off as if all the losses this year wasn’t a big deal.
When we lucked out and scored Alex Parker on a trade to the Flyers, I had thought we’d hit the jackpot. Until he went through some rough times with Coach and sulked his way through the last half of the season, leaving us with zero chance of securing a wild card spot in the playoffs.
Dad runs a hand through his messy dark hair and blinks from the sun in his eyes. He flashes a tiny smile when he meets my gaze and stalks toward me. “Have you started your off-season training yet?”
I try my best not to roll my eyes and keep my irritation at bay. “No, not yet. The season ended for us a week ago. I’m planning to take a few more weeks off to allow my body to recuperate.”
He throws his hands on his hips, his disappointment with my response written all over his face. “Well, it’s never too soon to start.”
We are complete opposites in every way. He has dark hair, hard features, and the attitude to match, where I have my mom’s light hair and eyes. I suppose I have his fly-off-the-handle temperament.
“Dad, I know what I am doing, thank you very much. I’ve been playing hockey for almost as long as I’ve been alive.”
