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I’d seen my mother in a lot of states, most of them low. When she was initially diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I’d done plenty of research to figure out what it’d meant. I knew she battleddepression, but I never truly understood how low her mood could go. I’d fight with her about getting up, about eating, about doing anything. But I never,never, knew she’d mentally given up.

“I’m so sorry I put you through that, baby boy,” Mom whispers, touching my hand. “I barely remember what happened. I don’t remember getting the knife or…”

She must feel my hand stiffen under her palm. “All I remember is you telling me that it would be okay. That you would get me help. Then the paramedics came and took me away. I begged them to let me go home, but they wouldn’t.”

The local hospital in Lindon put her on a psych hold. Suicide watch, they called it. Because the second the ER nurses saw the cut on her arm, they knew it was serious.

That was days before I was supposed to make my choice about who to play for. I’d always wanted to help her, to get her the best treatment and medicines. Therapy. Anything to make her happy. I had plenty of options to pick from.

But that day, when the doctors told me that her disorder had progressed and made her a danger to herself and others, I knew what I had to do. And that was to sign with the team who offered me the most money to give her what she needed before I lost her for good.

“You always wanted to play for the Bruins,” Mom keeps going. “You and your father dreamed of that for years. And I feel likeI’mresponsible for taking that from you.”

When her voice breaks, it’s hard not to let it hit me like cement. “Mom, no. Come on.”

“No” she cuts me off. “No. I won’t let you convince me otherwise. I remember the three of us talking about the day we’d go to your games in Boston. It was all you wanted. And when I got sick, and your father left, I know those dreams shifted. But you always watched the Bruins; talked about what it would belike to play with Zdeno Chára. I know for a fact they scouted you. I know they were an option when you graduated from Lindon.”

I close my eyes and feel her fingers curl around mine. When I found out that the Bruins were interested in me, I’d wanted nothing more than to say yes. For me. For Dad. Since I was kid, it was all I wanted.

But that’s the thing. When it came down to making a decision, I had to accept that I wasn’t a kid anymore. The dreams I had when I was eight or thirteen or even eighteen weren’t the same as when I turned twenty-two.

So, I turned down Boston.

I turned down one of the few things I wanted.

And I did it for the woman beside me.

“Alexander,” Mom says quietly. “It kills me to know that I’m the reason you’ve sacrificed so much. I hate knowing that I’m the one who’s held you back. Who made you grow up too quickly.”

Cracking my eyes open, I force them to meet hers. The same color stares back at me, except her gaze is glossy with fresh tears. “You didn’t hold me back, Ma. I play hockey. I signed with the NHL. Dad would still be proud.”

She lets out a shaky breath as her hold tightens on me. “He would. He would be so, so proud of you. I know I am.”

Dr. Rafner clears his throat. “Alex, your mother and I have discussed what life could look like outside of Logan’s. Her treatment plan doesn’t end for another few months, but if she’s cleared by her team, then there’s a real possibility she can leave.”

It shouldn’t make me nervous, but it does. Especially when it feels like there’s something he isn’t saying. “Okay. I mean, that’s the point of this, isn’t it? To help her get better so she can go back home?”

He nods. “It is. However, due to your mother’s history, it’s highly suggested that she has someone nearby to keep an eye onher after she leaves Logan’s. Maybe not permanently, but just until she settles back into life.”

Rubbing my lips together, I silently nod. I suspected she’d need to live with me, but I told myself not to think of the details until I needed to. She was in a bad place before Logan’s; such a bad place that she thought about ending her life instead of fighting to get better. That isn’t something to take lightly. “All right. I can get a bigger apartment. I can—”

“No.”

I stop when I hear my mother’s voice.

It’s firm.

Settled. “Mom?”

“I will not be the reason that you hold yourself back,” she tells me. “Alex, I know this is going to be a bumpy road. And I feel good. I really, really do. But I know that I struggle, and I refuse to let that impact your career. You’ve done more than enough for me. It’s time for you to live your life. The one you’ve worked hard for.”

What is she saying? “We’re family. We’re all each other has.”

“No, sweetie. That’s not true.” Her voice is gentle, more so than it’s ever been before. “You have Olive now. And I won’t take that from you.”

I shake my head, trying to muster something to say. An argument. A justification. “What’s going to happen to you if you won’t move in with me? Do you need me to hire a nurse?” I turn to Rafner. “I’ve had people come to the house before. I know it’s possible.”

Rafner repositions in his spot. “In some cases, yes. And it wouldn’t be impossible for that to be set up for your mother. But there are other options too.”