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“Good to see you, kid.” We both know what I came for and that I’m finished.
As I drive out, I try not to think of my father. It would be different if some life tragedy had led him down this path in life. But it didn’t. He was born to a bastard who treated him like a punching bag. But my grandmother got him out of there. She put him in a good school, gave him a good home. He played sports. He had friends. He beat the hell out of his cheerleader girlfriend and then married her when she was knocked up.
So yeah—his sins started early and without justification.
None of that really matters. These are just the thoughts that keep me occupied as I navigate through downtown traffic to get to the arena. Wondering how we come to be the people we are.
When I get to the stadium, I park my car and call Sloan.
“Hello?”
My stomach seizes up with worry at the weak tremor in her voice.
“You okay?” Maybe she was sleeping.
“I don’t know.” She sneezes three times. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
“I’ll call Dr. Ross and have him stop over to check on you.”
“I hardly need an obstetrician for a case of the common cold. I’m sure I’m fine. Some vitamin C and a little rest, I’ll be fine.”
“Fine” is her word. She’s alwaysfine.
But this is the first game she’s missed since… I can’t even remember if she’s missed one before. “Alright, but if you start feeling worse, get a hold of Spencer.” That’s the security guy in charge at the house tonight.
“Beck, I’m fine. I’ll stay home tonight, rest, watch the game from the comfort of the sofa. You just go out there and skate hard.”
“Alright, but if you get worse, let Spencer know and he’ll get you to the hospital. Promise me, Sloan, or I’m sending the doctor whether you like it or not.”
“I promise.”
She’s a woman of her word and I’m counting on that. But just in case, I send a text to Spencer.
Keep an eye on Sloan tonight. All that matters is keeping her safe.
31
SLOAN
If heaven looks like this, I’ll cross over right this second.
Karla just stepped into the den bearing a tray replete with every goodie a pregnant girl could ever dream of. The centerpiece is an ice cream sundae brimming over with whipped cream, hot fudge, rainbow sprinkles, and chopped nuts. Surrounding it in concentric circles are Sour Patch Kids and Rice Krispie Treats, chocolate-covered strawberries, caramel popcorn, Twizzlers—the list goes on and on. And this is the second tray of the evening. The first one, which she and I demolished together, was loaded up with rolls of every variety: sushi rolls, pizza rolls, egg rolls. That list goes on and on, too.
Add that to a deep couch, half a dozen blankets, and Beck scoring goals on the TV, and I’m inches away from nirvana.
“You really are an angel,” I tell Karla. “I swear I can see a halo.”
She smiles and sits in the chair at the end of the sofa, tucking her bare feet up under her. “My mother would beg to differ.”
“Well, what do moms know anyway?” I smile, stuffy nose notwithstanding. “Did Beck ask you to stay with me?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I know that boy, and he would not want you to be here alone while you’re not feeling well.”
She isn’t wrong. He barely lets me pee without armed security standing guard at the door. “Have you known Beck long?” I ask suddenly.
“Long enough. I’ve been working for him since he first made it to the pros.”
“So you know his dad?”
