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With Brooke having a child, I know she needs to know every detail, so I dig deep to find the courage.
“He shouted that she was a puck bunny, and my father didn’t want her either. He had his hands around her throat, up against the wall. It was my only chance to save her and…”
“And then what happened?” she asks.
I squeeze her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles as my tears splash against her ivory skin.
“The room was spinning. I was looking for anything to… I grabbed a knife from the butcher block and fuck… he was hurting my mom. I wasn’t trying to…” I don’t want to say the words kill him, and I sob. My back curves, and my head rests on my hands. “His back was turned, and I ran towards him. As I slung my arm, he turned, and the knife went into his chest.”
My lids close, not wanting to see her expression, which based on her flinching again, is full of fear and disappointment.
When I look at her, she’s a complete blur due to my watery eyes. “Brooke, you have to believe me. I was sixteen. My whole life in front of me. I wasn’t angry before this happened. I wasn’t the bad boy of hockey—the guy everyone feared on the ice. I was a sixteen-year-old boy who couldn’t wait to come home and see my mom.”
Her body is frozen and rigid, so I stand. “I’ll go. You deserve a man way better than me. Caleb needs a father figure and obviously, I can’t be that for him. But whether you want to hear it or not—I love you.”
She closes her eyes, and I feel the pain in her chest because it’s in mine too. Just as you believe you’ve discovered the individual who heals your heart and accepts you and your flaws, you come to realize that there are indeed certain limitations in place.
“Reed.” My name coming from her lips makes me wonder if this is the last time I ever hear it. “Just rip the band-aid off. I’ll understand. Finish the story.”
My voice raises and collapses at the same time. “Story. It’s not a story; it’s my fucking life. My horrible fucking life. I didn’t kill him, but I wish I did. How does it feel to hear that? It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. And I don’t know what to do with that. My mom hasn’t spoken to me in years. I have no one. As little as you think your world is—mine is smaller. I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m asking you to ask yourself what you would do in that situation.”
Her hand touches mine, almost tentatively before she intertwines our fingers. “I’m sorry that happened to you and to your mom. I’m sorry for what you felt like you had to do. What I don’t understand is why you went to jail. Didn’t your mom defend you?”
Scoffing, I say, “No. She said she had fallen due to her vertigo. And while my stepdad and I were fighting, she caught an errant punch, and she wasn’t one hundred percent sure which one of us did it.” Our eyes collide, and I take a breath. “The last time I talked to her, she said, ‘You owe me. I talked your stepdad into getting the police to charge you as a minor.’ She wanted some of my NIL money at Broadhurst.’”
“So, you spent the missing two years in the juvenile system?”
With my lips rolled inside my mouth, I nod in affirmation.
“But how did you get a hockey scholarship? And at Broadhurst? They’re one of the best hockey teams in the country.”
I explain to her that her dad was friends with my biological father, and he told me who my real dad is. “I believe my biological father pulled some strings to get the juvenile detention center to allow me to play in a hockey league while in juvie. It was all done anonymously in sealed records but since your dad informed me of who my bio father is, I assume he worked it out. Your dad brought me here as a favor to him more than likely.”
Her mind is racing, trying to put all of the pieces together. Been there.
“I’ve been trying to put the pieces of my heart together for a long time. And it never happened until you.”
Her lips tremble as she says, “Thank you for trusting me, but I need time to let all of this sink in. I don’t want Caleb around violence.” She hesitates as she slides her hands up my chest.
I grab her wrists and say, “Don’t. Don’t cry over what I’ve done. Don’t touch me unless you believe that I was defending my mom. I won’t apologize or regret defending her even if she’s a piece of shit. I will always, always defend the people I love.”
Behind a film of blurry eyes, I bend over and kiss the corner of her mouth. “I know this is hard to hear. Hell, it’s the most difficult words I’ve ever muttered. Your dad knows but when I told him the bare bones, it wasn’t the same. It was for hockey. I love hockey, but I’m not in love with hockey. Telling someone you love is almost unbearable.”
Walking backwards, her hands fall from my chest as the gap between us widens. The pain returns to my heart with a vengeance.
“Reed, I believe you…”
“But.”
Her eyes fall. “But I need some space.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
BROOKE
Reed left my apartment three days ago and hasn’t attempted to get in touch with me. To be fair, I said I needed space, and I respect him for giving it to me. But I miss him. Caleb keeps asking when he’s going to see Weed again, and I answer the truth… I don’t know.
With Caleb tucked into my chest, I dream of more days like the night of the Cheer-Off. Reed loves me and loves this little boy. Caleb lights up when he’s around.
