She gave me a brave nod and put on her coat. I put Tuck’s on him, amazed that he didn’t even come close to waking up even with all the disturbances. It would surely wake him if I put him down so I could put my own on, so I decided to grit my teeth and deal with the cold. It wouldn’t be too bad—we’d parked in the garage, not in open air. I could handle it.
I draped my coat across Tuck’s back so he’d be nice and toasty. “Can you carry my purse for me?” I asked Maddie as I rose carefully to my feet.
“Yes, Mommy.”
It wasn’t easy to navigate my way through the row of seats and then up the stairs while carrying all the dead weight of a sleeping five-year-old, but somehow we reached the concourse without any major problems. As soon as we got out into the open walkway, though, I heard Jim Sutter shouting my name.
I spun toward his voice. He was several sections down in the opposite direction of the parking garage and practically running toward me, still wearing the same suit and tie he’d had on at the office today. Maddie and I waited for him to catch us. She moved half a step closer to me.
“I thought that might be you,” he said, slightly winded. “I was about to head home, but our head of security told me a woman and two kids were still sitting in the arena, like you were waiting on someone.”
“I…” I couldn’t lie to him about why we were waiting. There wasn’t a reasonable lie to give. “Brenden asked me to wait for him. He must have forgotten, though.”
“Ah,” Jim said, and that knowing look he seemed to always have came back to his eyes. “No, I doubt he forgot. The coach wasn’t happy with the team’s performance tonight, and he’s kept them late. Put them on treadmills and exercise bikes, so they could give him the effort he believed was lacking in their game play.”
“Oh.” That single word sounded unbelievably silly, for some reason. I couldn’t imagine having played an entire hockey game and then having to work out afterward. My body revolted just at the thought of it. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten, though.
“I sent word up to the owner’s box so the other wives and girlfriends would know.” He looked at how Tuck was gradually slipping in my arms. “Here, let me take him.”
My head was reeling from how easily he’d said the other wives and girlfriends were in the owner’s box…as though I was one of them. “No, I can—”
With an ease that spoke of years of doing this very thing, Jim slipped Tuck out of my arms and into his. Maddie reached up and took my hand.
“Come on,” he said. He started walking back in the direction he’d come from, carrying my son, which meant I had to go with him whether I wanted to or not. I started walking with him, Maddie staying close at my side. Tuck wrapped his arms around Jim’s shoulders in his sleep, which only caused my boss to smile. “The team is hitting the showers now. Brenden won’t be much longer. I’ll get you set up somewhere more comfortable to wait for him.”
We went through a few hallways, past security—who just nodded at Jim as we kept going—and then got on an elevator. It took us down to a level I hadn’t been on before, where the flooring and walls were all concrete. After a few more turns, we entered what must be the team’s domain.
A long hallway had offices, storage, and the medical team’s areas, and at the end was a heavy set of double doors. Jim turned into an office before we got there, and the two men I recognized as the assistant coaches looked up, one from a computer and the other from a huge stack of notes.
“Rachel’s waiting on Campbell to finish up. Is it all right if they wait in here?” Without waiting for their response, Jim was already laying Tuck down on a sofa.
They nodded and went back to their work, almost oblivious to our presence, so I nudged Maddie inside the office and over to a cushioned chair. I still thought we ought to just go home, but at least the kids would be more comfortable in here than we were waiting in the stands.
“I’ll go pop in and let him know where you are,” Jim said once he’d situated Tuck and straightened up. “And then I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Jim.” After he left, I squished down into the chair with Maddie, wrapping my arm around her.
“See, Mommy?” She looked up at me with sleepy eyes. “Mr. Soupy didn’t forget.” Then she leaned into me and closed her eyes again.
No, he hadn’t forgotten. I’d been very ready to believe that of him, though. Maybe too ready. It was easier to jump to conclusions about him than it was to learn the truth because it didn’t require trusting that he could be the man he seemed to be. It was easier to believe he’d forget his promises, or that he’d turn out to be a big jerk, or that he’d hurt me or my kids in the end.
Easier to keep my distance and protect my heart.
But was I really protecting myself if I did that? Or was I depriving myself? Not to mention my kids.
I smoothed my hand over Maddie’s hair, listening to the pattern of her breaths as they got deeper, longer, smoother as she drifted off to sleep again.
Another ten minutes passed before the doors at the end of the hall opened and guys from the team started to drift past on their way home for the night. Brenden and Jamie were among the first to come out, both with their hair still wet from the shower.
“Sorry,” Brenden said quietly as soon as they came into the assistant coaches’ office. “Jim said he explained?”
“It’s okay.” I smiled almost despite myself.
Jamie went straight over to Tuck and picked him up. He still didn’t wake up. Brenden bent over to pick Maddie up, but I put out a hand to stop him. It was instinctive, and maybe a little too overprotective.
“I’ll carry her.” I still couldn’t let anyone touch her. No one but me.
He frowned at me, but he didn’t argue. The look he gave me was one I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Once he’d backed away, I extricated myself from Maddie’s hold and got out of the chair. That movement startled her awake. She blinked up at me, but then she saw Brenden.
“See, Mommy? Mr. Soupy remembered.” She stood up and stretched her arms up over her head. “Are we going home now?”
“We’re all going home,” Brenden said.
I might not have been able to place the look in his eyes, but I definitely knew what the tone in his voice was: hurt.
And I’d been the one to put it there.
While Rachel was still taking care of Maddie, Babs got Tuck settled in his bed and then went across the hall to our place. I almost went with him.
Instead, I stayed. I couldn’t leave now, no matter how much I thought I wanted to. The whole reason she’d stayed after the game, the whole reason she had kept the kids out so late was because I’d asked her to wait for me. So I sat down on the couch and waited while she did all the mom things she needed to do, satisfying herself that her kids were safe and sound in their beds.
I put my left ankle up on the coffee table, giving it some elevation. It still hurt from how I’d crashed into the boards, but I hadn’t told the trainers how bad it was. The last thing I needed was for them to make me sit some more. We were about to have a few days off for Christmas. That should be enough time for me to rest it, and then I’d be fine.
Pumpkin leaped down from the Christmas tree by the window and perched on the coffee table next to my ankle, his keen yellow eyes watching my every move. I reached out to pet him, but he hissed and swatted in the general direction of my hand. That only reminded me why I preferred dogs. If you wanted to pet a dog, they were usually all too happy to let you. Cats were way too temperamental for my taste. I didn’t need one giving me a hard time, especially since I was already being beat up from all sides.
The whole night had been a beating for me, actually—for the whole team—everything from the way we’d played during the game itself to the hour of sweat Scotty put us through afterward. But none of that ate at me like the look in Rachel’s eyes when I’d tried to pick up Maddie.
She’d looked terrified, like I was reaching for Mad
die to hurt her. I recognized that look. For years, I’d seen it in Dana’s eyes more times than I ever cared to.
So now I knew. I may not know who had hurt Maddie or what they’d done to her, but for the first time since I’d met Rachel, I was starting to understand. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together, each one falling into place, even if it was happening far more slowly than I would have liked.
What I was coming to understand made me want to go punch something.
That was what I’d done after Dana had been raped. I’d gone to the gym and pounded my fists against punching bags until my knuckles had been bloody and my hands had swelled, and I’d kept punching until I literally couldn’t raise my arm anymore. Then I’d gone back to do it all over again the next day.
That hadn’t helped. It hadn’t helped then, and it wouldn’t help now. Beating something until my hands bled wouldn’t do anything for Maddie or Rachel, and it definitely wouldn’t help me at all.
I had to find another way, something productive instead of destructive.
Once I realized that Rachel was so insanely overprotective of her kids, and of Maddie, in particular, because she’d been abused in some way, I felt like someone had come along and ripped a huge piece out of my chest, and I didn’t know how to make it stop hurting.
I could only imagine what Rachel must be going through. And Maddie. And did Tuck know what had happened? How was he handling it?
Dealing with the aftermath of my sister’s rape had been difficult enough. At least she’d been an adult, with all the means of coping with trauma that come with age. Maddie was just a little girl.
I felt sick just thinking about it, and the longer I had to wait for Rachel to join me in the living room, the more time I had for the awful thoughts to take over my mind—all the while with that cat’s eyes fixed firmly on me.
It was after midnight when she finally came down the hall from her kids’ bedrooms. As soon as she did, Pumpkin gave up his vigil and headed off to supervise the kids as they slept.
Rachel stopped when she saw me on her couch, still several feet away. “I thought you would have gone home, as late as it is.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
It took too long for her to answer. That meant she had to think about it—that she didn’t really know whether she wanted me to stay or go. Finally, she shook her head. She looked tired—too tired. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, with dark circles under them. Her shoulders slumped forward uncharacteristically.
“Come. Sit with me,” I said. I slid over on the cushions so she’d have more space. “Please?” I added when she just looked at me warily.
She sat, but not as close to me as I wanted. And she was stiff, not relaxing at all.
I was starting to realize that she wasn’t just always tense with me—it had nothing to do with me, or at least not very much. She was wound up so tight that she couldn’t let go, like a pressure cooker full of steam with no way to release it. I wanted to rub her shoulders, to help her relax, but I doubted she would let me.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, taking me aback.
There was nothing she needed to apologize to me for. “Why are you sorry? I was the one who kept you out so late.”
“You were hurt. Because I thought you’d forgotten we were going to wait for you.” She sounded so sincere about it, so determined to make things right. “It’s second nature for me to assume people are going to break their promises. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, but I did anyway. That’s a habit I need to break, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me.” My need to touch her in some way, to offer what comfort I could, kept growing. I reached across the space between us, resting my hand on her shoulder.
She flinched but didn’t pull away. “But you looked hurt. Your voice— You were upset.”
“You’re right, I was upset.” I kneaded her shoulder, despite the tension in her posture only increasing in intensity when I did. “I am upset, but that doesn’t mean you did anything to hurt me.”
“Why are you upset if it’s not something I did?”
I doubted she either wanted or needed to hear the entire laundry list of reasons I was upset. There was only one that was really relevant. “Because you still don’t trust me enough to tell me what happened to Maddie.” I turned her so her back was to me, angling myself so I could rub her shoulders with both my hands. This was a much better use for them than punching something, at least. “You won’t tell me who hurt her or what they did. You won’t let me help.”
Rachel remained so silent I could hear every breath that filled her lungs. Every beat of her heart pulsed beneath my fingertips. “I don’t know how to let you help,” she whispered. “I’ve never had anyone willing to help me, not since I was a kid, so I’ve gotten used to only relying on myself.”
As soon as the words left her lips, her body gave a series of tiny shudders. She sniffed and raised a hand to wipe her eyes but that only brought on a torrent of sobs.
A lot of guys would cower away from a woman’s tears. They’d do anything they could to get the crying to stop, or else they’d just leave until it had passed.
Not me. I knew better. Tears may not solve a problem, but they could still bring healing, could provide some relief. Better out than in was what Dad and I always said when Dana or my mom cried. Right now, these tears meant Rachel was actually letting herself feel all the stuff she’d been trying to keep bottled up.
So I didn’t try to get her to stop, and I didn’t get up and leave. I just kept rubbing her shoulders and let her cry as much and as long as she needed.
When the sobs slowed to a dull roar instead of giant, racking heaves, I got up and went to the bathroom. I brought back a box of tissues. She looked up at me with puffy, red eyes. She took two tissues and blew her nose. “Thank you.” Her voice was ragged. Hell, she was ragged.
I tossed the box on the coffee table and sat down next to her again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know how to talk about it.”
I knew that, at least some small part of me, but I’d had to try. “Okay.”
“Will you hold me?”
I pulled her onto my lap, and she tucked her head into the place where my neck and shoulder come together, wrapping both arms around my waist.
In all the times I’d carried her in my arms or held her on my lap, she’d never held onto me. Not like this. Not like she wanted to be as close to me as I wanted her to be. A couple of times she’d put her arm over my shoulders, but that was more for balance than anything. She hadn’t ever tried to be close to me; it had always been me making the effort.
We stayed like that for so long my arm fell asleep, but I didn’t want to move. The last thing I wanted to do was spoil the moment. She’d finally allowed herself to be vulnerable with me, to lean on me even if only to cry. I resolved to stay exactly as we were until she wanted or needed it to end.
Her breathing slowed, her back rising and falling against my hand in deep, even motions. For a moment, I thought she might have fallen asleep. Just as I was debating whether I should carry her to her bed or be selfish just a little longer and keep her where she was, she shifted her head slightly.
“I was sixteen when I got pregnant,” she said, her surprisingly steady voice coming as a shock to my system.
I hadn’t thought she would tell me tonight. Maybe I should have had more faith in her, just like she shouldn’t have doubted I’d keep my word. She pulled another tissue from the box and wiped her nose with it until I wasn’t sure she’d keep talking.
“My parents kicked me out, and I couldn’t bring myself to have an abortion, so I thought the only real choice I had left was to marry the guy who’d knocked me up. I knew he wasn’t any great prize, but I never thought he would turn out like he did.”
I held her, stroking her back while she told me in a flat, lifeless voice how this man had become the sort of monster who could molest his own little
girl. I knew men like that existed. Three of them had stolen seven years of my sister’s life in the span of twenty minutes in a janitor’s closet. The thought of what Maddie had gone through, multiple times in her own home…it left me as sick as I was enraged. The thought that it had been the one man in the world she ought to be able to trust to treat her with love and kindness made it even worse. If you couldn’t count on your father, who could you put your faith in?
“Where is he now?” I asked when she fell silent.
“Serving ninety-nine years in Huntsville, unless he gets out early for good behavior.”
That was probably safer for me. If he was behind bars, I couldn’t accidentally-on-purpose go hunt him down and use his face as a punching bag. Besides, after I’d lost my cool with Zee last season and hit him for going along with Dana’s plan, I’d made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t use my fists to solve my problems anymore. I’d nearly ruined the best friendship I’d ever had that way. Outside of a hockey game, where it was an acceptable and encouraged means of settling differences, physical altercations tended to create more problems than they solved.
“Thank you,” I said once I trusted myself to speak without letting my anger into my voice. “For trusting me enough to tell me.”
She pulled away, and for a moment I feared she was going to run and lock herself in her bedroom or something like that. That was how Dana would have responded, as a means of self-preservation. But Rachel just moved back enough that she could look up into my eyes.
“People in my life have always let me down,” she said. “They break their promises, they push me away when I need help, or they become something far worse than I ever imagined. It’s what I expect, so I don’t know what to do with you. I keep waiting on you to be like everyone else. Like tonight. I thought you’d forgotten and left without us. And there was a part of me that was glad because I felt like then I would understand you. I’d know I couldn’t count on you, that you’d be just like everyone else in my life has always been, and so it would be easier. You would have proven you were like my parents, just like Jason—everything I expected you to be but hoped you weren’t.”
On the Fly Page 13