Chapter 29
HAYDEN
I’ve never been apprehensive about spending time with my family before.
Even as a teenager, when you’re meant to dislike them and try to spend as little time with them as possible, I enjoyed it. I love my mom and dad. Not only are they fantastic parents, but they’re both genuinely incredible people. And of course, Rylee was one of a kind.
But now, I’m not meeting my three favorite people. I’m meeting two of my favorite people, and they’re broken beyond repair.
I have no idea what I’m meant to say to them. Am I meant to force happiness and talk about all the good things in my life? Or am I meant to be sad? Are we meant to talk about Rylee and nothing else, like we did when I was with them?
Fuck. I have no idea what to do, and I know I’m making it worse by sitting out here, overthinking it all.
My cell rests in my lap, calling to me.
I want to message Hailee. She’d know exactly what to say to talk me down.
But I also don’t want to be that needy person she eventually gets annoyed with.
I’d understand if she decided to cut ties at any point.
She’s already gone above and beyond the call of duty to help get me through all of this.
But I’m not sure I could handle it if she did. Not yet, at least.
I let out a heavy sigh. I know my parents are already inside waiting for me. Not only am I meeting them at the hotel I booked for them, but they messaged ten minutes ago to say they’ve got a table and that they can’t wait to see me.
Is that true? Or are they going to take one look at me and see her?
Of course, we’re not identical, but we have enough similarities for it to be painful for them. Hell, it’s hard enough for me to look in the mirror some days, because all I see is her.
Pulling up my big boy pants, I finally kill my engine, push the door open, and climb out. The sun warms my skin, and I twist my hat around and pull it low over my face in an attempt to get away without having to talk to more people than necessary.
“Oh, shit,” the host says as I glance up at him. “Epic game last night, man.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, trying as hard as I can to find some enthusiasm. It used to come so easily, and I can’t help but feel like it died right alongside my sister.
“It’s gonna be our year. I can feel it right down to my toes.”
“Here’s hoping.”
“Did you need a table?” he asks, excitement glittering in his eyes.
“Uh, no. I’m actually meeting my parents,” I explain as I scan the restaurant ahead of me. “And they’re right there,” I say, pointing in their direction.
The second I lock eyes with them, everything I was worried about settles, because there’s nothing but happiness in their eyes as they smile and wave at me.
I only saw them last night, but that doesn’t stop me from practically running across the restaurant and straight into their arms like I’m a child again.
As I wrap my arms around my mom, it’s impossible to ignore the way her body trembles as she fights tooth and nail to keep it together, and I can’t say my dad is doing much better when I turn to him.
“You look tired,” Mom helpfully points out. “What time did you get in last night?’
A smile pulls at my lips as I think about my middle-of-the-night walk of shame.
It’s probably a million miles away from what they think it looked like.
Thankfully, neither of them is on social media much, so they won’t have noticed that there wasn’t a photo of me out drinking with the guys last night.
Had my sister been around, that would have been a very different story. She’d have realized I was absent, and she’d have been in my messages the second she noticed, demanding to know where I was.
“Late,” I confess. “It was a good night. We had a lot to celebrate.”
They both smile at me, and it’s a huge relief to see genuine happiness and pride on their faces.
“I know we said it last night, but we were so proud of you going out there and playing like you did,” Dad says, making emotion crawl up my throat.
“We can only imagine how hard that must have been. But you did it. And those assists. You keep that up and you could be in the running for an award or two this season.”
“Dad,” I warn, a laugh tumbling free.
I fucking love his unwavering support. When I was a kid, he was always my number one fan, telling me any chance he got that I’d play in the NHL one day.
I used to wave it off. Of course, it was my ultimate dream, but it felt so unreachable back then.
I guess just like any of the awards that are given out to the best players in the league each year.
“What? My son is the best D-man in the whole fucking league,” he states proudly, earning himself a glare from Mom for his language.
“Thank you for coming out for it,” I say, just like I did last night.
“We’re gonna be here every chance we get. You’re gonna get bored with seeing us,” Mom says, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “We want to experience as much as we can. We know…we know we’ve missed out on some of your achievements, but—”
“Mom, no,” I beg.
“You have been the most incredible brother, Hayden. You’ve sacrificed so much to ensure that Rylee could get the best care possible. She’d never forgive us if we weren’t there for you.”
“You’re always there for me. I’ve never doubted that.”
“Physically,” Dad adds when it becomes clear that Mom can’t get any more words out. “We want to be more physically present for you. We want to attend games, and we want to travel too, so we thought we’d make the most of our son’s incredible career and check out a few more states.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. The thought of having my parents there, cheering me on in different arenas across the country, makes me beam.
“That sounds incredible. Give me a list of where you’re planning on coming and I’ll make sure you have tickets and a hotel room.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Dad says, predictably.
“Just send me the list.”
“We love you, Hayden,” Mom whispers, her voice cracked with emotion.
“I love you guys, too. So much.”
The rest of breakfast is nothing like I feared when I was sitting in the parking lot. Of course, it was emotional; that empty fourth side of the table taunts me the entire time. But while we talk about Rylee, it’s nothing but happy memories that make us all smile.
I talk about what the next few weeks look like for me with games and travel, and they talk about places they’re excited to see, and which teams and other players they want to see me go up against. Honestly, it’s the best morning I’ve had in a while, and when I leave, making them promise to call me when they get home, I’m still smiling.
I guess that’s the power of true family. Even in the worst of times, the connection you have with them allows you to stand together and lift each other above it, even if it’s only briefly. I just hope I was able to give them that same lightness.
I’m feeling good when I arrive at the arena for our afternoon sessions.
Sure, I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept a full night’s sleep since the night I had Hailee in my bed, and it hasn’t escaped my attention that I could have had that again last night, had I stayed.
Regret trickles through my veins. I might have done the right thing, but that doesn’t mean I wish I hadn’t.
Maybe I don’t always have to be the good boy who follows the rules…
The dressing room is almost empty, the guys all busy with one thing or another, but two sets of eyes immediately find mine.
“Ah, here he is,” Killer announces. “Have a lie-in or something, Monroe?”
“I…uh…I had breakfast with my parents,” I say in a rush as Rett's attention burns into me.
I haven’t had a chance to speak to him about what he saw last night. And from the way he’s studying me, I suspect he’s done waiting.
“Dinner and breakfast,” Killer muses. “Anyone would think you don’t want to spend time with us.”
“Shut up, you idiot,” I mutter as I throw my bag into my stall before dropping to the bench to change.
Movement on the other side of the dressing room catches my eye, and I find Griffin Brody, my defensive partner, watching us.
He’s a great D-man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored to play beside him.
But I don’t gel with him like I do with Rett and Killer.
On the ice, we’re great. We make a good team, but off it, we’re very different people.
He’s ambitious beyond belief. He’s constantly pushing himself to be better.
I mean, we all are. We religiously do that every day, but Brody takes it to the extreme.
It borders on self-sabotaging, and that’s probably a very big reason as to why he hasn’t managed to build his personal relationships with the rest of us.
He wants to—I can see it in the way he watches me interact.
He’s jealous, but he doesn’t have a clue how to go about fixing it.
I tried at the beginning; I really fucking did. But honestly, as the months went on and each game got harder and the pressure mounted, I just didn’t have time to try and make sure he felt included. He’s old enough to deal with his own issues, should he want to.
“You need to get moving, Coach will be waiting,” Killer says, shoving his feet into his skates and beginning to do up his laces.
Rett, however, doesn’t make a single move to get ready. Instead, he turns his focus on me.
“Everything good?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah, of course, man. My parents are doing so much better. Seeing them smiling really helped.”
“Uh huh.” I glance up to see his eyebrows practically in his hairline.
“What? It did,” I argue, although I find it hard to keep the smirk off my face.
“Right, well. You’re having dinner with us tonight.” My lips part to argue, but he beats me to it. “Bea’s orders. And if I’ve learned anything these past few months, you never argue with a pregnant woman. They’re scary as shit.”
I roll my eyes as I toe my sneakers off. There isn’t a scary bone in Bea’s body, but I do get a kick out of just how much control she has over her big, bad D-man. He might be the league’s best grinder, but at home with his girl, Everett Donnelly is nothing but a teddy bear.
“I’m assuming dinner is a code word for an interrogation?”
I’m pretty sure the expression on Rett’s face is meant to be one of pure innocence; unfortunately for him, it just kinda looks like he’s trying not to shit himself.
“We just want to check in with our little bro, find out what—or who’s—going down.”
I fight like hell, I really do, but I can feel the heat from my cheeks.
“Unfortunately, no one is going down anywhere.”
Rett’s forehead wrinkles. “W-what? But…” He looks over his shoulder in the direction of the closet. “Shit, dude. She didn’t leave you high and dry after that, did she?”
Grabbing my skates, I stuff my feet into them, keeping my eyes on the task at hand.
“We’re not talking about this here. Or ever, if I get my way.”
“Fuck that,” he scoffs. “We need details, man. Details.”