Chapter 2
Chapter Two
One Month Later
Caroline
“Dylan!” I yell from the bathroom while I attempt to apply mascara, but it’s so old that it’s dried out.
“Ten-minute warning,” I say, turning the knob on the rusty sink to slowly add some water to the mascara.
I swirl the brush in the tube, and it helps a little bit but not much.
After one coat, I give up, closing it and opening the cracked mirror medicine cabinet.
The bathroom is from the seventies, for sure, with moss green tiles everywhere.
What used to be white grout is discolored to a dark yellow now.
The tub is the same moss green color with lines of rust down it.
Walking out of the tiny bathroom, I turn off the lights, then step right into the living room that holds the small kitchen table with two chairs.
Dylan sits on his knees while he eats his cereal, holding my phone in his hand as he watches YouTube videos about hockey.
All he does every single time he has my phone or is on the computer is watch hockey plays or highlights.
I think it’s why he got so good. That and the fact he loves the ice.
“I’m going to go get dressed,” I say, but he barely looks up from my iPhone.
Walking into the bedroom I share with him, I open the closet door and see the six items that I own hanging.
I grab the pair of jeans I wore yesterday and pair it with my gray and white striped short-sleeve shirt, tucking it in the front of my jeans.
Then I pick up my black running shoes and slip them on.
The sound of my phone beeping lets me know that it’s time to go.
“Mom!” Dylan shouts. “Time to go,” he says, and I walk out of the room and look at him.
He takes his bowl to the sink and gets on his tippy toes to turn on the water and rinse it out.
His shorts from last year are way too short for him this year and a bit too tight around his waist, but until I get my paycheck, they will have to do.
“Are you ready?” I ask him, smiling when he turns around wearing his own smile. His happiness lights up the room and my heart. He’s missing his two front teeth, his eyes are a baby blue just like his father, and his hair is a mixture of blond like me.
“Ready,” he says. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he nods his head and grabs his hockey bag at the door.
I look at it, and I know that by the time the new season starts, he’s going to need a bigger bag since his equipment also needs an upgrade.
He opens the door, and I close it behind me, locking the door.
We walk down the hot hallway, then the five flights of stairs toward the parking garage.
Opening the trunk, I put his bag in there and hold his hand as we walk around the back of the car.
I open the door, the squeaking noise echoing in the empty parking lot.
“Get in, baby,” I say, and he climbs into the car and sits in his booster seat.
I buckle him in, kissing his neck at the same time.
“Mom,” he squeals. I close the door, walking around to the driver’s side.
Another squeaking door when I open my own door, getting in and putting the key in and turning.
It turns over three times. “No, no, no,” I say under my breath.
“Please, please, please, please,” I send out another silent prayer.
This time, the car starts, and I have to wonder how much longer the car is going to last. According to the guy in the garage, I should have scrapped this car last year, but with thousands in credit card debt and a minuscule salary, there is nothing else I can do.
The drive to the arena is smooth without much traffic.
When Dylan’s coach called me two weeks ago to tell me that he enrolled him in a hockey camp, my heart immediately sank because I knew no matter how many days I ate ramen noodles, I wouldn’t be able to afford it.
Then he told me the best news; it was all paid for through the Justin Stone Foundation.
When I told Dylan about it, the smile and excitement on his face was everything.
I knew I would eat all the ramen noodles in the world just to see him that happy.
Getting pregnant in my last year of high school was not something that we thought would happen.
I was on the pill, we used condoms, and when I found out, it was the same day Andrew got the letter accepting him into the University of Edmonton for football.
It was what he had worked for his whole life.
Breaking the news to our parents was not an easy decision and deciding to keep the baby was even worse.
My parents said it was me or the baby, and when I chose the baby, they kicked me out of the house.
Thankfully, Judi, Andrew’s mom, took me in, and two days before Dylan was born, I married Andrew.
He wanted us to have his last name, and with his scholarship, we’d have housing since we were married.
I had this idea of what it would be like to be married and have his child, but once Dylan arrived, my idea of perfect and Andrew’s were very different.
He was riding the wave of his football until he tore his ACL and had to have surgery, and well, then he went down the rabbit hole of drugs.
Though he did it so sly and sneakily, I had no idea how far down he’d gone until two guys showed up at our house and beat him right in front of me and one-year-old Dylan.
The scholarship was toast, we were kicked out of the housing, and to add the cherry to the sundae, he had used all his scholarship money on drugs.
By the end, he was addicted to fucking meth.
“Mom, will anyone I know be there today?” Dylan asks from the back seat, and I look in the mirror, watching him watch outside.
“I don’t know, but the good news is you make friends fast,” I say over my shoulder. The rest of the ride is quiet with him singing some of the songs from the radio.
“Okay,” I say, putting the car in park and looking in the back. “This is it. How ready are you?”
He unclips his seat belt. “How long am I on the ice for?” he asks when I open the car door and get out, going to the back and opening his door.
“Is it all day, you think?” He jumps out of the car at the same time a truck pulls up and parks next to us.
Walking to the back, I pull his bag out, and I’m getting ready to carry it when he grabs it from my hand.
“I got it, Mom.” Picking up his bag, he struggles to carry it to the door.
It’s so heavy, he ends up dragging it halfway there.
We get to the front arena entrance at the same time as someone else, and when I reach out to grab the door, a big hand covers mine.
“Let me,” he says. I look over my shoulder to thank the person, and all I can do is stare at the man behind me.
“Are you Justin Stone?” Dylan asks from beside me, and the man smiles, which makes his brown eyes turn just a touch lighter and golden. His hand drops from mine, and he squats down in front of Dylan.
“I am Justin Stone, and who are you?” he asks, his plump lips making me stare. He has to be the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.
“I’m Dylan,” he says, and Justin holds out his hand to shake Dylan’s. Dylan looks up at me, and I just smile at him as he reaches out and shakes his hand.
“So you must be Dylan Woods,” he says, smiling at him and then getting up and looking at me. “And you must be Dylan’s mom.” His hand comes out, waiting for me to shake it
“I’m Caroline.” I smile, shaking his hand.
“There you are,” a woman’s voice says behind us.
“You are ten minutes late,” she says as she walks toward us.
Her swinging hips make her hair swoosh perfectly.
I look her up and down, and she is wearing the best of the best. Her skirt is perfect and tight and looks like it cost the same as six months of my rent.
I don’t even want to know what she paid for those shoes.
“I was just talking to Dylan,” he says, looking down at Dylan. “I couldn’t start the day without him.” He smiles at Dylan, his whole face lighting up. “Are you ready?” he asks, and just for one second, I wonder how many people are lucky enough to get that smile from him.
“Dylan,” I say, trying to ignore the two people standing around us.
“Let’s go get you settled. I have to get to work.
” I open the door now and wait for him to walk in with me.
I try not to look over my shoulder, but I fail.
His eyes are on us while the blonde talks his ear off, and then he turns to her, and she smiles at him, and he just nods.
“Welcome.” A woman is standing at the bottom of two staircases.
I look around. This venue is huge, much bigger than the arenas we play at.
“To the Justin Stone Summer Hockey Camp,” she says, and she has a blue shirt that says the exact thing.
“My name is Malika, and I am going to be checking you in today and giving you all the information.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking down at Dylan, who is watching everything in awe.
“Can I have a name please?” she asks, going to her boards on the table beside her.
I’m about to answer but Dylan beats me to it in his excitement. “Dylan Woods,” he says with a megawatt smile on his face. She flips through the manila envelopes to find his name.
“Here you are, Dylan,” she says, handing me the envelope and then walking to the side where it looks like the gym bags are sitting.
She grabs one and comes over, and I see that it’s blue with “Justin Stone Summer Hockey Camp” embroidered on one side.
She turns it to the other side, and Dylan’s name is also embroidered on the side.
She hands me the bag, and it’s heavy. “In that bag will be everything he needs for the month-long camp. There are two pairs of running shoes, five pairs of shorts and T-shirts, along with socks, a jacket, and hats. His jersey and hockey socks will be given to him in the dressing room.” I look over at Dylan, who stands there with his mouth open.
“If you can have him change into shorts and a shirt, we are going to be talking to the kids group by group before their first activity. All the information is in the package along with the meals that will be provided.” She looks at her watch.
“For today, breakfast is done, but if he gets here by eight, there is always hot breakfast being served.” My head is spinning at all this.
“If you have any questions or concerns, everyone’s contact information is in the envelope. ”
“Thank you so much.” It’s the only thing I could say, and I’m trying to blink away the sting of tears hitting my nose. “What room is he in?”
“He’ll be in room number three,” she says.
“You can go to the right side, and it’s on the right corridor.
” I nod at her and then walk around the staircase to the right.
We pass two vending machines and come to another staircase, but there are hallways on both sides with a sign in front of it, telling us that room three is on the right.
We walk down the corridor and see the rooms are open, and some kids are already inside getting changed.
When we get to room number three, we are the only ones in the room for now.
Brown benches line the white cinder block walls.
Off to the side is the bathroom and then there is a half cinder block wall on the left side that leads to the shower.
“Where do you want to sit?’ I ask Dylan, and he walks over to the bench, sitting in the middle.
I put his equipment bag down in front of him and open the blue gym bag, taking out a royal blue pair of shorts with matching shirt.
The shorts have Justin Stone on one leg and then Woods on the other.
“Let’s get changed,” I say, and he undresses faster than he’s ever done before, slipping on the shorts and then the matching shirt that has his name on the back.
He sits down, and I grab the blue running shoes out of the bag and tie his laces for him even though he wants to do it himself.
By the time we finish, two other kids have walked into the room with their dads along with Justin.
“Is everything okay in here?” he asks, looking around. I look at Dylan, who just nods.
“Great. How about we get things started by going upstairs and getting our spots for the meeting?” he says, clapping his hands.
Two more kids who are a bit older walk in the room and freak out when they see Justin, who just smiles.
He gives the kids high-fives, and then he looks up at me.
When our eyes meet, he just smiles, and I have to look away because my heart just started to beat faster.
“Let’s go get you set up,” I say to Dylan and rush out of the room and away from the man with the brown eyes.