Chapter 31
TYLER
“Yesss!” I hiss and lean forward. Denny takes a shot, and I hold my breath. It’s blocked. Huffing, I sit back again.
We’re in Montreal, working our way through Winnipeg’s away games. This might be one of my favorite rooms. It’s really nice, and the bed is super comfortable.
Ty wiggles, his arms and legs waving as he stares at the bedside table lamp.
I have a wall of blankets on his far side, and he’s in the middle of the bed beside me.
He’ll fall asleep again soon. I love that he’s awake for longer periods of time now.
Maybe I just want to believe it more than it’s true, but I’m pretty sure he’s beginning to come into his personality.
“Daddy almost made a goal,” I tell Ty. “He’s doing so good tonight.”
There are only three minutes left in the first period, and Winnipeg is leading Montreal 2-1. Denny got an assist on the first goal. I’m hoping he makes his own goal tonight, though. I love when he scores.
Resting my hand on Ty’s stomach, I continue to split my attention between him and the television.
It’s a little less exciting when Denny isn’t on the ice, but I love hockey beyond Denny, so I’m still relatively invested in the game.
It’s strangely different when you’re seeing someone on the team.
Someone you can watch on television and say, That’s my boyfriend.
Under different circumstances—such as Sally being alive—I might have fanboyed when meeting him. I appreciate that Denny’s friends think we’d end up together regardless of how we’d met, but I’m not entirely convinced.
What I’m sure of is that I’d have encouraged her to break it off with him once I confirmed she didn’t actually love him or want to marry him.
I was convinced of that before getting on the plane.
Before she died. Before I even thought about Denny in any way other than as an amazing hockey player who knocked up my sister.
But had I just met him when Sally introduced us? Oh, yeah. I’m positive I’d have embarrassed myself fanboying over him. I mean, he’s a real, live, in-person professional hockey player. One I’ve watched for several years now because he’s a really good wingman.
I’m not sure I’d have recovered from that mortification. I’d likely have hidden any time he came around.
Then there’s the fact that he didn’t want to be involved.
I can’t imagine him not loving Ty the way he does.
It’s difficult to imagine that he’d have actually been able to walk out of his son’s life.
I just don’t see him that way. Seeing him with Ty, getting to know Denny a little more every day, I have a hard time believing he’d have been able to do it.
The signal of the end of the period fills the room, and I look down at Ty. He’s dead to the world again. I can feel his little heart beating away under my hand. He’s so damn beautiful.
I look down at my phone, tapping the screen awake so I’m staring at me and Sally. “What is your damn password?” I mutter. “Date. That’s your hint. What date? What date could be so damn important that you made it your fucking password?”
Pressing my thumb to the screen, I open my phone and navigate to the calendar. Through settings, I turn off all the calendars except Sally’s. Yes, we shared our calendars. It wasn’t just for safety reasons, but because we liked to share our daily events.
I can’t imagine it’s going to be a date in the future, so I scroll backward to Ty’s birthday.
Yes, I tried his birthday, thinking maybe she changed it once he was born.
No such luck. I tap every day in January that has something marked on it.
Meeting. Baby doc appt. Car inspection. Diane’s birthday. No idea who that is.
However, it’s clear that there’s nothing in January that I imagine could be something significant enough to be her passcode. I’m hesitant to just keep trying because eventually, it’ll lock me out of her phone entirely.
Back up to December. Christmas. Christmas Eve. Party. Shopping with Diane.
Seriously, who the hell is Diane? Why didn’t she talk about this person?
More appointments. More meetings. November is the same. October is the same. On and on throughout the year until I hit July and pause. Date with Jeremy. Mmm. I remember that. She hadn’t known she was pregnant yet, but she’d been feeling under the weather.
We’d stayed up for hours after her date as she told me how disastrous it had been. We laughed and ate ice cream, even hundreds of miles apart.
Smiling, I keep scrolling backward through 2021. May 30—Date with Dennis. I only ever see his name as Denny, so it’s strange to see it spelled out like this. Dennis. Personally, I much prefer Denny.
I tap on the event and find a note, probably something Sally added after the fact. Date that changed my life!
Chills break out over my body. Date.
Someone might read this as proof that maybe she did, in fact, love Denny. As someone who spoke to Sally every single day for the following year afterward, I can confidently say that’s not the case.
But that date did change her life. She got pregnant!
Glancing down at Ty with chills still moving across my skin in waves, I think I figured it out. “Don’t move,” I whisper. “Stay right there. You’re only allowed to breathe.”
Obviously, I don’t get a response. Carefully, so I don’t disturb Ty nor shift the bed enough to make him roll, I climb off and dig into Ty’s backpack diaper bag for Sally’s phone. It’s always with me. Always charged. Just in case someone calls.
Or in case I figure out her damn puzzle!
As soon as I tap onto the phone, I type out the six digits—300521.
The phone opens, and I nearly scream. If Ty wasn’t sleeping, I might have. I’m in. Fuck, I’m finally into her phone!
“Please have kept a diary. I need to know all the things you left unanswered!”
Carefully, I climb on the bed again and retake my spot beside Ty. A glance at the game says there are five minutes left in the first intermission. The teams are about ready to pile back onto the ice to warm up again.
Now that I’m in Sally’s phone, I don’t know where to go.
“Just so it’s clear, I’m not in your phone to snoop,” I tell Sally.
Wherever she is. “Not really. I just… I need to know why you kept so many big secrets from me. Why did you agree to marry Denny when it’s been clear over the last six months of your life that you weren’t interested?
Why didn’t you just end it? What didn’t you tell me? ”
First things first. All those damn red dots need to go.
All the freaking notification icons are driving me insane.
They’d have bothered Sally, too, so it’s time to address them.
First, phone calls. I can just get rid of the notification log there.
I answered the important calls. Then I spend a couple minutes listening to her voicemail.
All those callers called again, and I have talked to each.
Good.
Next text messages. I scroll through and immediately become overwhelmed. There are… a lot. As I imagine there would be after two and a half months.
My breath catches. I can’t believe she’s been gone for two and a half months.
I catch a preview of one that ends with a broken heart and decide that they’re going to need to wait. I don’t want to spend the evening sobbing and reading all kinds of text messages that equate to missing Sally, which is probably going to wreck me.
Instead, I swipe to the next screen and see what apps she has. Anything that might hide a concise list of answers to questions she’d anticipate me asking? That’s not too much to hope for, is it?
As I’m swiping again, a ShareIt notification pops up.
I’m about to push it away when Denny’s name catches my attention.
I glance at the screen, noting that the teams are piling into their boxes.
There’s no way Denny’s online right now.
Besides that, Denny is rarely active online.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him post. Most of the time when his account comes up, it’s because he’s been tagged.
Which is the case here.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I tap the notification to open the app and bring me right to the post. I’m a little startled when I find a screenshot of one of Denny’s mother’s ranting posts attacking Denny.
Above the post is a simple statement—THIS WOMAN IS OUT OF HER FUCKING MIND. SIGNED—HER ABUSED SON.
“Ohhhhh myyyyyyy,” I murmur as I click on the caption below to read it.
Anthony Willow Everything out of this woman’s mouth is toxic.
As a man who suffered eighteen years under her ‘care,’ I have the fvcking authority to say so.
Every single day was filled with screaming, emotional abuse, mental manipulation, and a hostile environment for all four of her children.
I spent every single day of my childhood trying to sleep over at any friend’s house who would have me, just to get away from the abuse.
You best bet that she’s not allowed near our children. What sick fvck would think, after being the shittiest excuse for a parent in the goddamn world, that we’d let her near our children?
Stay away, *Mom*. Stay the fvck away from me and my brothers!
#LeaveDennyAlone
“Oh. My. God,” I murmur as I stare. The post has gone viral. There are nearly half a million views, more than forty-thousand comments, closing in on ninety thousand reposts, and fifteen thousand shares.
Because I can’t help myself, I click on the comments, and I’m not at all surprised to see the outpouring of support. I am surprised that so many of them are using the same hashtag #LeaveDennyAlone.
I click on it and find that there are almost 200,000 uses of it. My eyes widen. Jesus.
My eyes slowly rise to the television, and I barely see the screen as the game plays. It takes me several times to blink out of my daze in time to find the score 3-1. I missed a goal.
As much as I want to watch Denny on the ice, my attention turns back to the phone as if I can’t stop watching a train wreck.
Tapping the back button, I’m brought to Anthony’s initial post again.
Meaning to expand the post and reread, I accidentally scroll down and find that the next in line is a similar post from Denny’s other brother, Leon.
It’s much the same thing. The same attack on their mother. The same accusations of abuse, but this one leads to neglect and child endangerment.
I find myself falling down a rabbit hole as I click on Leon’s profile to find two other posts, each one attacking one of their mother’s posts.
Each one calling her out on her bullshit.
The very first one that he responded to has in big bold letters in the graphic LEAVE DENNY ALONE.
The comments on that post started the hashtag.
The post was dropped three hours ago. The hashtag has gone viral in three hours.
Anthony has seven posts. He expands on his brother’s and then he makes his own. I wonder if they coordinated this. I got the impression from Denny that none of them were close. They never talk. They don’t know what’s going on in each other’s lives.
What would Denny say if he saw that his brothers had his back?
I’m so engrossed in the comments and posts complete strangers are making on Denny and his brothers’ behalf that I don’t realize that I’ve missed the rest of the game until I hear the door to the hotel room open.
Startled, I look up. I must look like I’m seeing a ghost because Denny laughs. “What are you doing? Are you watching porn without me?”
I huff, rolling my eyes. “Not with Ty right next to me.” Oh, shit. I look at Ty, who’s sound asleep. “He needs to be fed, I think. I’m late.”
Denny is currently peeling his suit off as he continues to watch me with amusement. “Seems he’s not overly upset right now.”
Setting Sally’s phone down, I sigh. “I’m sorry. I got sidetracked. Please tell me you won.”
An eyebrow raises as he glances at the television. It’s still playing Sports Spot. I can see the question in his eyes, though. The game was obviously on.
“I got into Sally’s phone finally.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “But I can’t say I was finding anything… useful. A ShareIt notification flashed across the screen, and I was a dog chasing a cat.”
He laughs as he climbs onto the bed beside me. “What did you find?”
“You might not want to know, but… then again, I think it’s not a bad thing.”
The wariness is obvious. “My mother?”
“No, not exactly.”
Denny frowns. “You’re being vague.”
“Because I’m not sure if you want to see it or know about it. You’ve been pretty clear that you don’t want to know what your mother is doing online, so… this isn’t what your mother is doing, but your brothers.”
He’s surprised. “Show me.”
Because I had the app up on Sally’s phone, I continue using it to show Denny, and I watch as he reads the posts. I’m on Leon’s page right now.
Denny is silent as he reads the posts. I reach over once he’s finished the last and bring up Anthony’s. Once again, Denny reads in silence. Ty begins to wake while he’s reading, so I carefully climb off the bed to make him a bottle before he really cries.
By the time I come back and bring Ty into my arms while he eats, Denny is just setting the phone down.
He’s staring at the television in the same way I was.
Not truly seeing it. I get it. It’s a lot to process, especially because of their fractured relationship. That makes it all entirely unexpected.
“Leave Denny Alone,” Denny repeats, and there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Not the way I imagined I might go viral.”
“At least it’s not a picture of you on a St. Andrew’s cross.”
He snorts. “Fair enough.” Denny looks at me. “This what you’ve been doing tonight, huh?”
“Not intentionally. But yeah. I lost hours on ShareIt. I’ll never get those back,” I complain.
His smile is small. Not necessarily happy, but genuine enough. Without another word, he slides down the bed and lays his head on my thigh. I adjust Ty so I can hold them both.