Chapter 33
MADDOX
AGE EIGHTEEN
I’ve been avoiding my dad for a week, but as I come jogging down the steps outside of the arena after practice and see him leaning against his truck door with his arms crossed, I know that’s no longer an option.
With my piece-of-shit truck breaking down and leaving me needing rides from Mom and Brax for the past month while I save for repairs, I should have been expecting Dad to take matters into his own hands. Now I just feel like a deer in the headlights, nerves and guilt sparking.
“Good practice?” he asks when I reach him.
“Awful.” My shoulder screams at me when I pull down the tailgate and lift my bag to toss it in the box of the truck. “Got my shit rocked more than a couple times. I need an ice bath.”
With nothing more than a nod, he closes the tailgate and walks to the driver’s side. I watch him go, hopping stiffly into the truck as a bad feeling manifests deep in my gut.
I quickly slip into the passenger side, cross my seat belt over my body, and let the soft drone of music smother the silence. It’s still awkward as all hell, but at least it isn’t silent.
Dad starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.
I tap the window anxiously, debating whether or not to just come out and say it.
He would respect that decision more than the alternative to keep quiet, but at this point, I think the respect ship may have already sailed. I’ve waited too long for that.
Ten minutes go by with neither of us speaking, and just as I’m about to crawl out of my skin with anticipation, he turns onto the dirt road leading to our house and clears his throat.
“You think we have a good relationship, right? A mutual sense of trust? That was important to your mother and me when we had you and your siblings. I was very close to my mom growing up. Up until she passed away, I considered her one of my best friends. Your mother and I wanted you three kids to have the same kind of relationship with us as you grew up,” he says.
I swallow. “Yeah, I think so. You and Mom are amazing. You’re great parents.” Better than great. The best.
He drums his hands on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead, not risking even a quick look at me. If it weren’t for a heavy bob of his throat and quick tensing of his jaw, I wouldn’t suspect that he’s even the slightest bit bothered right now.
“Okay, I wanted to make sure.”
The back of my neck is wet, and it has nothing to do with today’s practice. This sneaky attempt to get me to admit I’ve been hiding something from him is dirty. He’s hitting below the belt and succeeding.
“Please just come out and say it, Dad. You don’t have to keep up the act,” I blurt out.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be coy.”
“Oh, I see,” he hums.
I turn my body as much as I can restricted by a seat belt and huff a groan. “See what? Cut it out.”
“You want me to be outright and honest about what I’m trying to get to here? Do you not like being kept in the dark?” he asks, still as calm as ever.
“You can be a petty man. Do you know that?” I groan, staring out the window, watching the back tires kick up gravel from the side mirror.
“That’s funny. I hope you don’t ever lose your sense of humour. It’s one of my favourite parts of your personality.”
“Dad.”
“Son,” he counters.
“How did you find out?” Because there is no way he’s doing all of this on a hunch.
“You didn’t think I would be told when my son rejects an offer from his draft team and his agent puts out a public statement announcing that you’re up for grabs?”
There it is. The anger I was looking for. It leaks out more and more with each word until he’s grinding them out, white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“I know you’re upset, but it was my decision to make,” I say, desperation thick in my voice.
I’m not positive about what I’m desperate for more of. His understanding or forgiveness?
“Of course it was your decision.”
“Then why are you so upset? This reaction is why I didn’t want to tell you what I did.”
For the first time the entire drive, he looks at me. It’s just a fleeting glance, but it’s chock-full of enough emotion to do more than enough damage.
“It might have been your decision, but you made the wrong one. That’s why I’m upset.
And you weren’t scared to tell me because you thought I would be angry.
You didn’t want to tell me because you knew I would tell you exactly that and maybe even succeed in convincing you not to do whatever stupid ideas that Roy fucker filled your head with. ”
“You don’t get it. It wasn’t just about me.”
“Oh, I do get it. I know exactly what you were thinking, and I’m still telling you it was the wrong thing to do.
” With a quick flick of his hand, he has his ball cap off and thrown into the back seat.
Stiff-looking fingers shove through his hair.
“Whatever he promised you, it was the wishful thinking of a money-hungry man. Vancouver isn’t going to take you this season. ”
“How do you know that?” I wheeze, my chest tight. The cab of the truck feels so fucking small.
His jaw pulses. “I spoke with Alexander this morning.”
I close my eyes, my head falling forward in my hands. Whatever hope I had of starting my career with my dream team disappears as fast as it had appeared in Roy’s office. I feel itchy, antsy. Like if I don’t get out of this truck right now, I’m going to wind up losing my mind.
“We’re pulling up now,” Dad says, reading my thoughts. He pushes a button on the small remote slipped on the visor, and the following beep tells me the gate at the bottom of our driveway has started to open for us.
Seconds feel like hours as we drive up to the house, and the truck comes to a slow stop. I’m out the door, taking off before Dad has a chance to kill the engine.
Having most likely been watching for us from the living room window, Mom comes rushing out the front door, her lips parting on words I can’t hear.
I shake my head at her when she tries to come up to me and pull me into her arms. The last thing I want is a hug right now, but a sharp pang of guilt at rejecting her love has me avoiding her eyes as I storm past her.
“Maddox!” Dad shouts, slamming the truck door. “Don’t run away from this conversation. We can’t ignore it.”
“There isn’t anything left to talk about it!”
God, I want to scream. I want to let the world hear how pissed off I am. How stupid I feel.
My steps falter when Addie appears in front of me, blocking the entrance with her tiny frame.
Prepared to just pick her up and deposit her somewhere else, I reach for her middle only to have her punch me clean in the stomach.
For a ten-year-old, she has a hard enough swing to wind me. Noah must have taught her some things.
“What the fuck?” I cough, stumbling back, clutching my stomach.
“Why are you acting like a caveman? And don’t yell at Dad. Look at how sad Mom is now,” she scolds me.
I grit my teeth, not needing the reminder. “Not right now, Addie. Get out of my way.”
“No. Not until you go apologize.”
“I’m not asking.”
“I don’t care.” She juts her chin out and crosses her arms.
“Addie, sweetheart, go inside. We need to talk to your brother alone,” Dad asks softly.
One look over my shoulder and I know that he’s behind me. He’s stopped far enough back not to spook me but close enough I won’t be able to run again.
My sister looks unsure but, after a few seconds, shuffles aside. I walk inside, and Mom and Dad follow. The house smells like freshly baked cookies, and my stomach growls.
“Go sit on the couch, Maddox,” Dad says.
Gritting my jaw, I do as he says. Moving through the house, past the first of two offices that us kids use for schoolwork and beneath the exposed wooden beams in the living and dining room.
There is an array of beads and string all over the coffee table in the living room, and Legally Blonde is playing on the big screen, the sound muted.
The LED lights beneath the TV flash with pink—Addie’s favourite colour.
I sit on the couch and fold my hands in my lap. My swallow is audible in the quiet room.
Mom sits beside me and places her hand over mine, but it’s so small it hardly covers my one hand.
“You should have come to us. To your dad. You didn’t have to do this alone,” she murmurs.
I search the room for Dad and find him standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and hurt tugging at his features. It makes me feel nauseous.
“I’m going to do what I can to fix this for you, but there’s only so much I can do,” he says.
“Tell me you wouldn’t have done it for Mom. Tell me that you wouldn’t have done anything you could to not have to leave her,” I croak. “I would have been too far away. From you guys, from Braxton.”
Dad looks at the ceiling, blinking. “I understand why you did it, Maddox. I do. But that doesn’t change the reason why it was even brought up in the first place.
You were manipulated and lied to. I should have been there with you.
Roy should never have even had access to your future in the first place. ”
“Florida doesn’t even need me. And you have told me yourself how bad their coaching staff is. I thought I was making the right decision. He said Vancouver would—”
Dad’s cold laugh cuts me off. “Oh, I know what he said Vancouver would do. And he was dreaming. Roy Heights has no clue how things work in the NHL. No fucking clue. I should never have let you convince me to let that man be your agent. I knew this would happen. Dougie would never have let this happen.”
“What if I didn’t want to have to use your agent?
What if for the first time in my entire life, I wanted to be Maddox Hutton and not Oakley Hutton’s son?
” I shout, pushing off the couch, fists curled at my sides.
“Roy might have fucked me over, but at least this mistake is my own, and I don’t have to hear about how it affected my dad. ”
Dad flinches, his green eyes wounded. I immediately wish I could take my words back, but I don’t backtrack.
“Baby,” Mom whispers, and I don’t know if she’s talking to me or Dad before she closes a warm palm over one of my fists.
“You’ve always been Maddox Hutton to us,” Dad says on a breath.
I shake my head. “You have no idea what it’s like to be your son and to feel the pressure to live up to you. I know I messed up. But I don’t need you to fix it for me. I need to own it and figure out what to do next. On my own.”
“I can’t do that. Whether you want to be my son or not, that’s what you are. And I’m not going to let you lose everything you’ve worked for because of this. You can hate me for it if you want, but it’s my job as your father. I love you, and I won’t let this ruin you.”
With that, he wipes a hand down his face, blows out a wavering breath, and leaves the room. Mom is as stiff as a statue behind me, but she doesn’t speak. I don’t think she knows what to say any better than I do.
I made a terrible mistake, and it might have cost me more than just my career.