Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
PATTY
I meet Sean in the middle of the stadium, ten seats up from center ice. It’s a tradition he and Dad had after games for years—one I was too self-absorbed to take part in. The arena is empty now, the crowd’s roar replaced by the steady hum of the Zamboni as it crawls across the ice, smoothing over the scars from the game. The overhead lights flicker softly against the empty seats, and a faint smell of rubber and ice lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of popcorn and beer.
I’m not imagining the way he favors his right knee, but because he’s Sean, he’s smiling through his thick black beard. His long dark hair is slicked back so well you can barely tell he has a mullet.
The whole team does. They start growing them on the first day of training camp. You can’t be a hockey team out of Mullet Ridge, South Carolina, and not have a mullet. You can’t play any sport in our town without having one. Even if you’re not superstitious, that’s a rule no one messes with. You don’t cut your hair till the last game of the season is over.
Lou is sitting a dozen rows away, scrolling on her phone, a security guard posted nearby. I don’t know why she thinks Sean and I need to catch up alone, but she insisted we “take some time.”
Sean opens his arms for a hug, and I step in, giving his back a solid pound with my fist. I’m not a small guy, but Sean’s built like a machine—something his female fans never fail to notice. He’s the most eligible bachelor in our corner of South Carolina.
Unfortunately for the ladies, his ex scared him right off the market.
When she left him at the altar.
“Good game,” I tell him, pulling out one of the stadium seats and sitting down.
Sean follows suit. “Thanks, man.”
“How’s the knee?” I ask.
“Fine.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “How’s life on tour?”
“I saw Mom.”
“What? When?”
“Last night. At a tribute band bar in Branson, of all places.”
He nods too slowly.
“You knew she was in town?” I ask.
“Yeah, I texted her about my game.”
“What? Why are you in touch with her? Why would you let her back in? You know better.”
Sean looks out at the ice. “I’m not twelve, Pat. She can’t hurt me anymore.”
I chuckle darkly, my elbows digging into my knees. “Tell that to your dating life.”
Sean’s fist smashes into my shoulder, and I tip to the side, laughing.
“That had nothing to do with Mom and everything to do with Serena.”
I scoff. “Same difference.”
“What did she say when you saw her?”
“I didn’t give her the chance to say anything. I walked out. What did she say when she found out you two were basically in the same town?”
“She said she hoped she could make it.” His hair is damp, and when he shrugs, droplets of water hit my hand. I wipe them off on his jeans.
“You played well,” I tell him. “Were there any scouts here tonight?”
He leans back, hands behind his head, stretching his long legs over the seat in front of him. “Yeah. Can’t imagine he was impressed by how long it took me to get up, though.”
“If he saw that save, he was impressed,” I say firmly, even though I know the reality of signing an injury-prone thirty-three-year-old. But there’s a part of me that’s even more desperate than Sean is for him to finally make it to the big leagues.
Because if he can succeed, it won’t matter how I failed him.
It won’t matter if I fail again.
I think of how I felt in that cavern, how my past and future felt so small.
Sean’s doesn’t, though.
Dad’s doesn’t.
I think of Dad—how much every movement hurts, how he winces when he doesn’t think we can see. If Sean makes it, maybe the pressure will finally ease off me.
Could I be more selfish?
“How’s the master plan coming?” Sean asks, like he’s read my mind, seen me waffling over what to do next. “You gonna be ready when you see Nash this time?”
I flex my thigh, feeling the flash drive in my pocket. My most precious possession: me singing and playing songs Nash—and the whole music world—won’t be able to ignore.
I hope.
“I don’t know.”
Sean drops his hands and leans forward, mirroring my posture. “If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it.”
“I have to.”
“You don’t have to,” Sean says in a gentle voice that makes me want to punch him, “unless you want to.” He glances behind him, where Lou is still on her phone, grinning and playing with a strand of her hair.
She’s probably texting the Janes.
Or her sisters.
Or Nash.
The thought knocks the breath clean out of me, like stepping off a curb into oncoming traffic.
“I don’t know whether to show Nash or toss it out,” I say, tapping my pocket where the drive is. “I’ve been holding on to this for too long.”
Sean nods. “Whatever you decide, Dad and I’ll be fine.”
“Dad won’t be. He has to have that surgery.”
“And you’re telling me that after two and a half months with Lou, you can’t think of a single other way to make more money?”
“I ain’t going on stage.”
“Then write a song, brother. Write an album. You didn’t lose that ability, did you?” Sean smirks, glancing over his shoulder. “If anything, I’d bet you’ve felt extra inspired lately.”
I elbow him hard, but the guy plays hockey, so he barely feels it.
“Yeah, well, you’re extra obnoxious lately.”
“Wow. Clever,” Sean says in that steady voice that always made me feel like the overly impassioned weird kid growing up.
“You like her,” he adds. “I don’t think you should do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Why are you so sure I like her?”
His look is as flat as any I’ve ever given. “Do I need to point Lou out to you? Pull up the Jumbotron footage of you hovering near her while she did a line dance?”
“I’m supposed to be her bodyguard?—”
“Pat. You can fool anyone else on anything else. But not me. You care about her. I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that.” He leans back into the seat, gripping my shoulder. “Don’t let Mom or Nash or anyone else mess with your happiness.”
Neither of us says anything else. We both stare out at the ice, where the Zamboni is making its final pass. When it rolls into the bay, there’s no trace that, only an hour ago, sharp metal was slicing into it, carving it up with reckless abandon. Now, the ice is unmarred—so clean and fresh, it’s like it was never touched at all.
I’ve never been so jealous of frozen water—of its ability to forget, to heal, to start over without its cracks tripping anyone else up. Without resenting the memories of when it was marred.
After another couple of minutes sitting in silence, Sean slaps my thigh. “I gotta head out soon. Let me meet your girl.”
We stand and make our way over to Lou, who stows her phone and smiles when she sees us. She bounces up in her puffer coat and gives Sean a hug.
“It’s so good to meet you,” she says, the warmth in her voice making it feel cosmically wrong that she could ever run cold.
“You, too,” Sean says. He grins between Lou and me. “Is my brother treating you right? He may be older, but we both know I could beat the tar out of him. Just say the word.”
I smack his shoulder. “Don’t sound so eager,” I mutter.
Lou smiles at us. We’re in the row one step below her, putting her just an inch or two beneath our eye level.
“He’s a green-flag kind of guy,” she says.
Sean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Patty? Do tell.”
She looks at me for only a second, but that second takes the chill right out of the air.
“He’s the most attentive person I’ve ever met,” she says. “He sees everything I need—tea, fuzzy slippers, caffeine, a space heater—and takes care of it without ever being asked. He even puts my boots away for me when I’m too tired to remember my manners.”
Now, the cold isn’t just gone from the air. It’s disappearing from my chest.
Sean grins and nods. “That’s Patty. He cares more than anyone thinks. I didn’t think he’d ever find someone who’d notice.”
Lou tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a movement so small but so soft that it makes me want to kiss the barely exposed skin on her neck. But then she smiles, and that smile makes me think about everything I stand to lose.
“He’s impossible to ignore,” she says.
Security escorts us out to walk Sean to the parking lot, where both our buses are waiting. The home team is there too, mingling with fans and family. Several of Sean’s teammates are standing around talking, so there’s no rush. I give him a hug and say goodbye.
“I’m rootin’ for you,” I say, pounding my fist against his back.
“I am too,” a woman says.
Not Lou.
Her voice is warm gravel, but to me, it may as well be the hissing of snakes.
My stomach drops before I even turn, and ice hardens my veins as I see the woman spread her arms wide, the fringe of a white faux-leather jacket dangling. It’s worn at the ends, like it’s been through one too many shows. Her hair—a big honey-brown cloud—is stuffed beneath a snakeskin hat, and her bright brown eyes are rimmed with enough makeup to stock an entire beauty counter.
Up close, it looks heavy. Like she tried too hard to cover the years creeping in.
She’s pretty but stretched thin—the price of trying to stay relevant when she’s closer to disappearing altogether.
“You are even prettier in person,” Mom gushes to Lou, all sweet Southern charm. “So nice to meet you. I’m Cheyenne O’Shannan.”
Lou hesitates for half a second before smiling, warm and gracious as always.
I glance at Sean, my jaw clenching hard enough to shatter my teeth. He gives me a sad smile, as if to say, She’s still our mom.
“It’s a pleasure,” Lou says, holding out her hand. But instead of shaking it, she gets pulled into a hug.
Lou’s eyes widen.
She releases Lou and holds her arms out before throwing them around Sean.
“What a great game, hon!”
Sean hugs her back.
Traitor.
“It’s good to see you, Mom. I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”
“I only caught the last few minutes,” she says, the regret in her voice almost sounding real. “I was on stage earlier, but I got here as soon as I could—showed security that VIP pass you sent me. I hated missing watching you play.”
She turns back to Lou, and for half a second, something real flashes in her expression … before she replaces it with something more practiced.
“You know how it is,” she sighs. “Always having to sacrifice a milestone or a memory for your career. Course, I’m a Shania impersonator, and you’re … you. ” She tries laughing, but it sounds off. Broken.
Lou’s smile hardens. Just a little. Just enough.
“Patty has told me a little about those sacrifices,” Lou says. “What a relief it must be to be so happy in a career that’s kept you away from your family so much.”
Something flickers in Mom’s eyes. But she blinks, and it’s gone when she turns to me. Her eyes wrinkle at the edges as she stretches out her arms for a hug.
“How are you, my boy?” she says softly, leaning in.
But I’m not Sean.
I don’t lean into the hug.
It’s a miracle I don’t recoil.
I let her wrap her arms around me like she cares, but the moment she steps back, the words come before I can stop them.
“That’s the life, right, Mom? ‘Always look forward, never look back.’ ‘Every dream demands a sacrifice, so don’t let it be yours.’” The words taste like broken glass. “Isn’t that what you taught me? What you showed us? Every time you walked out the door to sing backup for some loser who didn’t care about you past a hotel room?” I scoff, ignoring the wide hurt in her eyes. Because it can’t be hurt. “Let me guess. You heard Lucy Jane was in town?”
Tears leak out of her eyes. She should shrink back, sink into the earth with humiliation. Instead, her hands fidget at the hem of her jacket, and her voice shakes, even as she tries to hold her posture.
“You really think that badly of me?”
“Of course I do! You left after my accident! You don’t care about us!”
Her face twists. “I care about y’all more than anything!”
I laugh, stunned. “Sure. You care right up until the moment things get hard. Then you walk away.”
“Things have been hard every second since I left!” she says, and the fire in her tone is all desperation.
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
Her breath catches, and her eyes are swimming, and I’d rather drown in those tears than believe them for a second.
She shakes her head, her face screwing up like she’s actually in pain.
“I told myself if I could finally make it, it would make all the difference for this family. I’d be able to send money home. I’d be able to …. to be useful for once. But I wanted to come back the second I left.”
“Yet you’re here. On the road.”
“Because when—” her voice hitches, like she’s choking on her own regret. “—when I finally accepted what I’d done, I felt too guilty! Too ashamed! I couldn’t forgive myself for walking away from my family. And I didn’t believe y’all could forgive me, either. So I kept tellin’ myself if I could just make it, it would all be worth it. If I stopped, it would all mean nothing.”
Lou grips my arm tight. I don’t know if she’s buying this garbage, but I’m not. I can’t . I can’t let myself believe in her again.
I look her over, from her big hat to the shiny tips of her cheap boots. “Is it?” I ask.
She exhales shakily. “The band I perform with was offered a regional tour. A real one.”
Sean looks like he’s been slapped. Has he been believing her this whole time?
“Seriously, Mom?”
Mom’s eyes grow even wider. “You don’t understand?—”
But I’m too mad to let her talk. “Why do you keep doing this? You keep storming back into our lives making promises while clinging to some cheap knockoff of happiness! This life you’re chasing can’t make you happy!” She tries to interrupt, but I roll past her. “You coulda created without an audience and still been a musician. You could’ve had a family and performed, and still been a mother. But as it is? You didn’t trade up. You traded it all away. You traded us.”
“You don’t think I know that?” her ragged cry sounds like it’s coming from her bones. “I turned it down! I don’t want it anymore! I want—” her voice breaks with a sob that bounces off me. “I want to come home.”
I stare at her, take in her shaking, sobbing form. And a part of me almost cracks.
But no. I shake it off.
It’s fake.
It has to be fake.
“Save it for someone who believes you,” I say as coldly as I can.
“Pat—” Sean starts.
“You do what you want,” I mutter. “But I can’t do this again.”
I turn.
Lou turns with me.
And a cry tears from my mother’s throat.
We don’t stop walking until we reach the bus parked at the far end of the players’ lot.
Lou instantly throws her arms around me. “Did that feel as bad as it looked?”
I breathe out a laugh that feels like a cry. “It felt pretty bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
A moment later, Sean comes around the bus, his brow creased. He pulls me into a rough hug. “I love you, man. I think you need to forgive her, but I love you.”
When we pull back, I look at him like he’s speaking another language.
“How can I forgive her? She’s done this a dozen times. The only difference is now she’s a better actress.”
“I don’t know. We’ve been talkin’ for a while?—”
I stop him, wishing I could swallow the ache in my throat. “Don’t, man. Talk to her all you want, but whatever journey you’re on to make peace with the women who’ve wronged you has nothing to do with me.”
Sean punches my shoulder, and I snort. “You’re such a punk.”
Then Sean looks at Lou, not me, and something wordless passes between them.
“I don’t think Sean’s saying you need to reconcile … or even let her back into your life,” she says. “Are you?”
My gaze follows hers back to Sean. His dark eyes are shinier than they should be under the parking lot lights.
“No, I ain’t saying that, although she’s been trying. She calls me every week.”
“Yeah? Why doesn’t she call me?”
“You blocked her.” Sean says flatly. “Listen, I don’t know what’s gonna happen with Mom. But I don’t need to. That’s the thing about forgiveness. It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with you … not carrying the burden of her choices anymore. Forgiveness is a one-way street. A way to stop being so bitter and angry about the hurt she caused.”
“Hurt?” My lungs tighten. “It ain’t just hurt. She’s like a wildfire. She scorched everything—us, our trust, our future—and now we’re left trying to bring back what got burned. Again.”
“Then stop staring at ashes.” Lou says it so softly, with so much compassion, that my nose stings. “You’ve got good ground now—people who love you, who want to grow with you. But you keep standing in the scorched earth, angry nothing’s growing back. Maybe it’s time to plant something new.”
Sean grips both of my shoulders—not to weigh me down but to steady me. To free me.
“Take it from someone who knows,” he says. “Forgiveness feels good.”
I duck my head, the back of my throat raw.
“But maybe the person you need to forgive isn’t Mom,” he adds. “Maybe it’s you.”
I laugh, but it’s sharp, and it only makes the pain worse.
Because I won’t admit this out loud.
But he may be right.
“Why are you two conspiring against me?”
Sean laughs, and Lou hugs my arm tighter.
“Because we care,” Sean says.
I shake my head. “Yeah? Well, you’re the worst little brother in the world.”
“I had a good role model,” he teases. Then he gives Lou a quick hug and backs up with a wave. “Travel safe, y’all. See you in Memphis.”
He disappears around the bus, and I look down at Lou in surprise.
“Sean’s coming to Memphis?”
She smiles. “Your dad, too. Hot Strings Hall is a once-in-a-lifetime event, so I got backstage passes for my friends and family.”
“But they’re my family.”
She leans up and kisses my cheek.
“Same difference.”