Chapter 30
Josh
Ispent more time in the store than I intended to, obsessing and considering. Checking reviews on my phone. I didn’t want anything too flashy, but it still had to be solid. Something that would last and help her be a kid again. Which may have been too much to ask from a piece of composite wood.
But this time, I wasn’t buying equipment for the farm or a tool I’d use until it fell apart in my hands. I was considering hockey sticks and trying to remember the last time I’d worried so much about getting something right.
Thirteen was a big birthday. Ellie was no longer a kid, but she wasn’t yet an adult. That age was scary and overwhelming but exhilarating at the same time. She was also old enough to smell bullshit from a mile away. And the last thing this kid needed was an adult making promises they couldn’t keep.
I hefted the stick, assessing the weight. It was solid. The kind that could be used a lot and thrown around. I’d cut it to fit her height and grab a roll of tape on the way out.
There was no pretending I wasn’t nervous about this.
I wanted to show up for her. To be a part of things. In whatever way they’d let me. I wasn’t trying to win points with Celine, and I’d never use her kids to get closer to her. I just wanted to be another supportive adult for Ellie.
Because somewhere between the pumpkin race and the horse and the way Ellie hovered, always alert, I’d started to see it. How observant she was. How careful. The way she held herself like she was bracing for impact. Like if she stayed sharp enough, she could keep the ground from shifting again.
I knew the feeling.
The house looked warm, the balloons tied haphazardly to the porch railing telling me Julian was involved with decorating.
“Josh,” Maggie called, darting out the front door. “Come in. We have cake. Does Daisy eat cake? Can I bring her a piece tomorrow?”
Celine and Julian followed, and finally Ellie, who was wearing her usual black hoodie but also a sparkly birthday crown.
“Happy birthday,” I said, handing her the stick without ceremony.
She looked at it for a minute, her lips tugged down, before taking it out of my hand.
She examined it closely, felt the weight of it, but she remained silent.
“If you don’t want it, I can take it back,” I said. “You shoot righty, correct?”
She nodded, now studying the blade, her fingers lingering like she didn’t trust it not to disappear.
Celine was quiet, her focus fixed firmly on Ellie’s face, probably to gauge her reaction.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Ellie said.
“I know.” I lifted one shoulder. “But I figured you could use it. I heard you used to play.”
She nodded.
“I was a hockey player when I was your age. I wasn’t very good. But I loved it. I still play a lot with my friends.”
“Friends?” She arched a disbelieving brow.
“Logan and Gabe,” I admitted. “We play street hockey in the summer when the rink is closed.”
“Does Logan bring animals to hockey?” Maggie asked.
I chuckled, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Sometimes.”
Hockey had been great for me as a kid. It had given me an outlet for my emotions and frustration, as well as some lifelong friends.
But it was also an activity I shared with my dad.
My sisters never had any interest, and Jasper preferred running wild in the woods.
But Dad taught me and coached me and always cheered at my games.
We’d even driven down to Boston a couple of times to watch the Bolts play.
I always figured that one day, I’d have kids, and I’d teach them to skate and play with them out on Carver Pond the way he did.
Ellie gave me one of those tween glares, full of suspicion.
“I have nets and gear in my garage. If you ever want to play in the driveway.”
She only scrutinized me further. When the silence was almost unbearable, she finally said, “I’m rusty.”
My lips twitched. “So am I.”
That admission was enough to break through the wall she’d put up between us. With an almost hopeful look, she turned to her mom.
“Go play. Dinner isn’t ready yet. I’ll yell when it’s time.”
Ellie and I played in my driveway as the sun dipped low and the air turned sharp. Wayne watched, retrieving errant street hockey balls.
We didn’t attempt anything serious, just passing and shooting. Laughing when one of us missed the net entirely.
She loosened up as the minutes passed, her movements instinctive, muscle memory kicking in. Her laugher and smiles hit me hard. I’d never seen her like this.
Celine and Julian walked down eventually, watching for a bit and giving us a thirty-minute warning. I avoided Celine’s eyes, not wanting to take away from Ellie’s moment and not wanting to cross any of the invisible boundaries Celine kept putting up.
“We should get you home for dinner,” I said.
“You’re invited too.”
My heart clenched. “I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s my birthday.” She harrumphed. “I’m a firstborn daughter and a Scorpio, so I’d do what I say if I were you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I gave her a mock salute.
We cleaned up the nets and the gloves and the balls, Ellie clutching her stick the whole time, like she wasn’t ready to let go of it.
“You can use this gear whenever you want to play,” I said as we wandered toward the cottage.
“I don’t play hockey anymore.”
“That’s cool. But if you want to just mess around in the driveway, it’s there.”
She hit me with another glare.
“The code to the garage keypad is 1991. So you can go in and borrow stuff whenever.”
“1991?”
“It’s the year I was born.”
She scoffed. “Oh my God, that’s, like, so long ago.”
I winced.
“It was last century.”
“Wow.” I smirked. “You make me sound ancient.” I ran my hands through my hair, knowing that I already had a healthy number of grays.
“You sure you can you still pay hockey?” she joked, her eyes dancing. “Wouldn’t want you to break a hip.”
I shook my head as we climbed the hill. She was funny, I’d give her that. “You’re kinda mean,” I teased.
“I’m just playing,” she said. “But.” She stopped walking. “I know you’re in love with my mom.”
I couldn’t lie to the kid. She was too smart. And I cared about her. I wanted to earn her trust. After she’d been so let down. I knew I had to tell the truth.
“I’m going to talk to you like you’re an adult for a minute,” I said.
Her face lit up.
“Yes, I am in love with your mom. She is amazing.”
Eyes narrowing, she clutched her stick with both hands. “So you want to marry her? She’s already been married.”
“I know. And no, I don’t want to marry her.”
Shit, that hadn’t come out quite right. I was making a complete mess out of this conversation already. But I hadn’t exactly been prepared for the teen girl interrogation squad today.
“Listen,” I said, figuring she probably assumed everyone had an ulterior motive. “I love your mom. I want her to be happy and healthy and safe. That’s all.”
She tightened her grip on her hockey stick. “I don’t want anything from her. And I would never pressure her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“She doesn’t need a husband.”
I dipped my chin. “I can see that. You four are doing so great on your own.”
“She’s strong now, but she wasn’t always,” she admitted, her voice suddenly much quieter.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t hide the fear or the anxiety that came with having to grow up too fast and too soon.
My heart broke for this scrappy girl. The girl who’d had her childhood taken away by the person who was supposed to love and protect her at all costs.
“I may love your mom, but I respect her even more. And I respect you,” I said slowly. “So if you want me to stay away,” I said, even as I cursed myself for making this promise, “I will.”
“No.” She shook her head, frowning. “My mom gets to make her own decisions. I like you. My brother and sister like you. So if Mom likes you, then that’s okay.”
Huh. A sense of relief washed over me. I hadn’t expected such a thought-out response.
“You’re very mature,” I said.
“But,” she went on, “just because I say it’s okay doesn’t mean I’m not watching you.”
I nodded once. “Of course.”
“And if you hurt my mom—”
“I won’t.”
“If you hurt my mom, my siblings and I will hurt you. You think I’m the scary one?
” she asked, passion in every word. “Julian’s super intense and Maggie’s the wildcard.
She may get distracted by books and baby animals, but she can be ruthless.
” She heaved out a breath, ducking. “Everyone is finally doing better. It took a long time, but it finally happened.”
I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her that nothing bad would ever happen again. But I knew better than to promise the impossible.
“You did a great job,” I said. “I see how protective you are. How you anticipate Julian’s needs. How you help your mom and step in when your siblings need you.” I rocked back on my heels. “You had to take on a role no kid should have to. And if you need to vent. I’ll always listen.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
“Josh?” Ellie said as we approached the porch.
“Yes.”
“Thanks for the stick. I’ve missed playing hockey.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”