Chapter 32 #2
“No. I’m serious. I don’t understand why you don’t resent her. How could you move into her house? She left us and came here. She chose this over us. Doesn’t that piss you off?”
“A little,” I admit. It would have been nice to have had a mother growing up.
There were so many moments where I felt the loss: my first crush, getting my first period, needing my first bra, trying to figure out makeup, shopping for dresses to go to school dances, graduation .
. . and the list goes on. “But it couldn’t have been easy for her. ”
“Being a parent?”
“Being married to Dad.”
He shakes his head. “Which is another reason it pisses me off. She knew what he was like, and she still thought he was the better option. Maybe he was. Either way, it’s bullshit that she just left. What kind of mother does that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. And maybe that’s really the worst part for me. It isn’t that she left but that I’ll never truly understand why. I wasn’t brave enough to ask her when I was a kid and now, she’s not here. This house is the closest to an answer that I’ll ever get.
“This place has felt like a second chance for me.” I glance around at it. Every project has made it feel more like mine. “Maybe that’s what it was for her too. A chance to live her life on her own terms.”
“A life that didn’t include us.”
“You can’t put it all on her. You didn’t reach out either.”
He grunts. I don’t know whose fault it was, but what does it matter who is to blame when it’s too late to change it.
“Do you think it’s possible to be a good parent when your examples are . . .” I struggle to say “bad” and instead go with, “Less than ideal?”
“I don’t know.”
Me either and that’s terrifying. What the hell do I know about being a mom? I drop a hand to my lower stomach protectively.
“Conrad fucking Shepard,” Victor mutters.
“He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah.” Victor’s chest rises and falls with a silent laugh. “I’ll bet he is.”
“He is, and he’s going to be a part of my life no matter what happens.” I wave a hand toward the tests without looking at them. “So you need to figure your shit out.”
Victor is silent.
“What happened between you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“You hate each other. Why?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Victor turns his head to look at me. His brown eyes are a shade lighter than mine. “Everyone hates me.”
“Yeah, but Conrad wouldn’t unless there was a reason.”
Victor’s jaw works back and forth. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay, then why do you hate him?”
He’s quiet too long.
“Is it because he took the fastest skater title from you at his rookie All-Star game?” Even asking the question feels too petty to be true.
But Victor’s face hardens.
“Seriously?”
“It isn’t because of the stupid fastest skater competition.”
I wait for him to explain why he’s holding a grudge against the guy I’m in love with and possibly having a baby with.
“He’s so full of himself. It’s obnoxious. When he won that competition, he had all these people there to celebrate him like he’d solved world hunger. His parents and friends, even some teammates were there. It was a fucking spectacle.”
Understanding settles over me, along with a healthy dose of sympathy for my brother. Conrad had lots of people show up for him, and Victor had no one except me.
“You were jealous of the support he had,” I say simply and without judgment.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He runs a hand over his head.
“I’ve won a lot of awards and games, but I don’t think I’ve had that many people combined be there for me over the years.
So it’s possible I started hating him because he represented the things I’ll never have, but I wasn’t the only one being a prick the other day. ”
“I know.”
“He isn’t the saint you think he is.”
“And he hasn’t had the perfect life you think he’s had.”
He sighs heavily and lets his head drop back onto the couch. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I love him.”
Victor’s jaw tightens.
“And I love you.” I smile at him. “But I’m mad at you too. You hurt my feelings. You know how it hurt me when Dad teased me about not being a good hockey player.” I lower my voice. “You’re turning into him.”
It’s my biggest fear. His too, I think.
He doesn’t reply, but I can feel Victor ruminating beside me.
“What happened the other night when you got the game misconduct?”
“I know what it looked like, but I didn’t do it on purpose. Not this time.” He says the last part quieter than the rest. “I got tripped up and I panicked. After all the injuries these past couple years all I could think about was breaking my fall.”
“Not this time?” I shake my head and give him a disapproving head tilt.
“It’s all part of the game.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You take it to another level.”
“Someone has to be the bad guy out there. Houston pays me to be that guy. Or they did.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“It may not be at all.” He runs his hands down his thighs.
“What do you mean?”
“My agent isn’t sure there’s a trade out there for me. If Houston cuts me, I may be done.” There’s no inflection in his voice, but I know he’s scared. He must be. Hockey is all he’s ever known.
“Do you still love it?” I ask him.
He’s quiet for a few moments. “I don’t know.”
I drop my head to his shoulder, and we sit like that, neither saying anything, until the alarm on my phone goes off.
I don’t move, but Victor leans forward and silences it.
“I’m not ready,” I tell him.
“Whatever happens, I’m here.” It’s possibly the nicest thing he’s ever said to me. “I’m sorry I was a jerk.”
No, that’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.
“Wow. Can I get you to repeat that?”
He smiles in a way I think I’ve only ever seen him look at his dog.
“Wait. Who’s watching Bella?”
“My assistant.”
“Ooooh. Alexis. Can I get her number? Also, have you checked in with her? Does she send you selfies of her and Bella?”
He takes my hand and tugs me to sit up. “Stop procrastinating.”
I groan. “Fine. But later we’re revisiting the topic of your assistant.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but she’s gorgeous.”
His lips pull down at the corners and he mutters quietly, “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
I lean forward and reach for one of the tests. I let out a breath.
“On three?” Victor suggests.
I nod.
“One, two . . .” he counts.
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” I say before he can finish the countdown.
“Three.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat and then look at the test in my hand. Two pink lines stare back at me.
“What does yours say?” I ask my brother. My heart is racing as I look over at him.
Instead of answering, he turns it so I can read it myself.
Pregnant.
Two hours later, a tub of ice cream and a lot of heavy sighs and muttering about “Conrad fucking Shepard” from Victor, and my brother still hasn’t left my side.
I cover a yawn as he flips through the sports highlights. Moonshot won tonight, but I didn’t catch a lot of other details because as soon as the broadcasters mentioned Conrad, Victor turned the channel. I’m not sure if it was for his or my benefit.
“I should head back to the hotel.” He stretches out his long legs.
“Don’t be dumb. You can stay here.” My eyes burn with the need for sleep.
“Fine. Whatever.” He gets up and walks down the hallway. Victor pauses in front of his jersey. “I can’t believe you hung this up?”
“I didn’t.”
His expression turns speculative, and he stares at me a beat before returning his gaze to the jersey. “Mom put this here?”
“That or the previous owner was a fan, and she decided to leave it up.” I laugh softly.
“Huh.” He gives it another moment of consideration and then heads to the guest room.