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I toe the hogtied traitor at our feet as my dad saunters into the room. He groans and twitches, but with a mouth full of floorboard, there’s not much he can say. “Alright, I delivered the piece of shit who’s skimming your money. I’m going to bet if you check this place, you’ll find gobs of cash stashed in every nook and cranny.”
Bobby looks at me, drags on his cigarette, and nods. “And now, you want something. Name your price.”
I don’t even have to think about it. “I want you to wipe out the debt Sloan’s paying you.”
He cocks his head, puffs again. “Fine.”
“And I don’t want Sloan to ever find out what you do to him.” There’s no question that my father is going to make Anton pay. But I don’t want Sloan to think about it later on and decide it was too much. To blame herself for Anton’s sins.
“Fine.”
“And after that, we’re square.All of us.I’m finished with this whole mess of your shit. I’m finished with you sticking your stained fingers in my family’s life. We are nothing to each other anymore. I’m not your son. You’re not my father. This is where it ends. You’ll go back to being the guy who spends too much time in the wrong kinds of bars, and I’ll just be the dude you see skating on TV now and then.”
I don’t wait around to see if this last point of negotiating goes over well. There’s nothing to wait for—I won’t take no for an answer.
So for the final time, I turn my back on my father. I walk to where Sloan is sitting, her wrist limp in her hand, and I help her up.
She’s not weak-kneed or stumbling. Aside from the wrist, I don’t see any indication of what she’s just been through, but I’m also not taking any chances. We’re going to the hospital and she’s going to be checked out by the best medical professionals in the whole damn city.
I don’t look back at my dad as I loop my arm around Sloan’s waist and together, we leave that godforsaken house forever.
The ride to the hospital is quick, but I stay attached to Sloan all the way there. My hand on her thigh while we drive, my arm over her shoulders while we walk through the front doors. The doctors—every single one on hand—come rushing in to examine her. The consensus is a broken wrist. She’ll need it X-rayed and set.
You wouldn’t know she’s in pain by the look of her, though. She’s proud, chin held high, not a tear in sight.
Sloan looks at me and smiles as the doctor pulls the ultrasound machine close. Since she has to move her wrist again so the doctor can lift her shirt, the doc cocks her head at Sloan. “We can wrap your hand first if you want.”
Sloan shakes her head. “No. I want to see that my baby is okay.”
The doctor nods and gets to work. The baby’s heartbeat is loud and strong and Sloan squeezes my hand with her good one. “That’s our baby,” she whispers.
I look at the screen. It’s not such an amorphous little bean anymore. It’s got shape, size, a heartbeat, Lord only knows what else. This isreal.
The future I wasn’t sure we’d ever reach is right in front of us.
And, broken hands or not—we’re about to grab the fuck on.
It’s about an hour later that we leave the hospital with her wrist in a removable brace. She’s clinging to me, not that I mind. Butwhen her breath stills, I glance down at her, waiting for the torrent of tough questions I know is coming.
“What’s the Bloodhound going to do to Anton?” she whispers.
“I didn’t ask.”
“So you don’t know?”
“I didn’t ask.”
She nods and lays her head against my shoulder. I sit back and listen to the radio. It’s one of those all-sport channels and they usually say plenty of nice things about the team. Today though, there is hockey sport news.
“With twenty games left until the playoffs begin, Paige Foster, former girlfriend of Phoenix winger Zane Whitaker, was found dead today in the apartment she shared until earlier this year with the Angels star.”
I know Whitaker. We ran into each other on the juniors circuit plenty of times, and we partied together once or twice in my pre-Sloan days. He’s a good dude, although a little on the wild side. Probably better now that he’s finished with his rehab.
I’ll have to remember to give him a call. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose the one you love. Guys like Zane and I, who indulged to the point that it risked our lives and have tried to put ourselves back together, have to stick alongside each other. I’m sure right now, he can use as much support as he can get.
Right now, though, I just want to be grateful for Sloan and the baby we have coming. I could’ve lost everything that was important to me. I’m not taking this for granted anymore.
The rest of our life is about to begin.
