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“Dad asked around . . . but he got distracted by his crazy-busy schedule, and then Liam messaged me. . .”
I nod profusely.
“For goodness’ sakes, Patty. Say whatever it is you did,” I beg.
“Liam messaged and said he heard Crew wanted to play hockey. I told him he’s interested, and it turns out his good friend has a kid Crew’s age. He helps part-time coaching when he can, and they’ve agreed to add Crew to the team at no cost, plus they have some scholarship money for the team that will cover Crew’s uniform and safety gear.”
I stare at my friend, at a loss for words.
“Please say something,” she says, her lips spread wide and tilted down.
“I did not want Liam to be involved,” I whisper.
“He came to me, wanting to find a way to hang out with you and Crew together,” she explains.
It doesn’t surprise me Liam went behind my back to my friend. He seems to be very persistent lately.
I whip the covers off me. I’m in an oversized college T-shirt and a pair of short gray pajama shorts. I stalk into the bathroom and look in the mirror, taking in the mess on my head. My puffy eyes, my pale cheeks. I look like hell after a night shift.
Patty mouths, “Sorry. Should I tell him to go?”
I shake my head.
“Mommy, come see,” Crew says, pulling me by the hand. “Liam is here, and he’s a famous hockey player.”
“Honey, I need to get dressed,” I tell my son. I also realize Liam must have heard my little freak-out since our apartment isn’t that big, and sound travels easily.
“Why don’t we go see the hockey man while your mommy gets dressed?” Patty suggests to Crew.
Crew nods and follows her out to the main room.
I always feel terrible about my son not having a male role model in his life. Ever since he was little, I would find him staring at men in this longing way that broke my heart. Then there are the daddies who come to pick up their kids from school. Crew hasn’t asked me why he doesn’t have a daddy, but I know the day will come.
I quickly wash my face and brush my teeth, and then I get to the difficult task of brushing the knots out of my hair. I go slow, starting at my roots and working my way down. All the while I’m thinking what the hell is Liam Bozeman doing in my family room? On Christmas Eve, he asked if we could meet up sometime. He didn’t ask for permission to bulldoze into my life one morning and turn it upside down. I quickly pad back to my room and slip on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater. Then I take a deep breath before heading toward the family room because seeing Liam isn’t easy. It always comes with a tsunami of emotions.
When I reach the family room, Liam is on the floor with Patty and Crew, and he’s showing Crew how to build a car with his oversized Lego pieces. Seeing my son smiling and eating up the attention makes my heart squeeze. When Patty sees me, she stands abruptly. I take Liam in. He wears his hair longer now, his Mediterranean Sea-blue eyes are just as bright, but his body is so much larger and defined. He’s wearing a long-sleeve grayish-blue Henley with his shirtsleeves pushed up, showing off the sexiest forearms I’ve ever seen.
“Skylar,” Liam says, looking a little guilty. “Sorry to hijack your Sunday morning.”
“I didn’t get off work until three.” I yawn, and he winces.
“Shit, I mean shoot,” he corrects, looking at Crew. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Look, look.” Crew pulls his attention to the car he made and is now rolling across the floor.
“Good job,” Liam cheers.
“Liam, why didn’t you call?” I ask, drawing his attention away from my son.
I feel bad calling him out, but Crew eats up his attention, and this is throwing me off-kilter.
“Honestly?” he asks and waits.
I nod. Obviously.
“I didn’t think you’d answer my text messages if I sent one.” He has the decency to give me a sheepish look, but I can’t say he’s wrong either. “My friend Wolfe coach’s his son’s Peewee hockey team, and Patty said Crew wants to play. He’s only missed two practices, and it won’t be a problem,” he assures.
I blink. “Crew doesn’t have skates.”
