Page 60 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

in the f#cking world

Tyler

I pace the floor of my hotel room and stress the fuck out. Could I really go down to the station and pick up my little brother and sister, just like that? And if I did, what would I do with them? I’m supposed to head back to Vegas tomorrow.

The alternative, I suppose, is that they get put into children’s protective services or split up in some shitty foster home somewhere. I can’t stomach that. No way.

But Ma is right about one thing. I’m barely a functioning adult myself.

I can’t take care of two little kids, can I?

The idea of it is totally crazy. Still, they’re my brother and sister, my blood.

The only blood family I have. And they’re so small.

Fuck this world. I don’t want them growing up in some dump with filth and drugs and predators all around.

I want them to have good lives and futures, far, far the fuck away from the shitshow life they’ve been trapped in. I want them to get out like I did.

I call my attorney, Jack Engelland, and explain my situation.

“I know your job is to handle, like, contracts and shit, but I don’t know who else to call, Jack.

I’m backed against a brick wall here.” I’m not opposed to begging after telling him the whole, crazy fucked-up story.

“I can’t just leave the kids to the system, not when they have me—I mean, I’m their brother and I have the means to take care of them.

At least until we find a better solution. ”

“No problem, man,” Jack reassures me. He’s a fairly young guy.

I’ve even partied with him. He knows me and he knows when I’m being serious.

“I’ll make some calls. Figure out what’s going on and report back with options.

I do know someone who can at least give you the basics.

She’s a social worker in Boston, and the wife of one of my law school buddies.

Her name’s Winter Blakney and she’ll know how to get the ball rolling. ”

“Thanks, man. Sorry for calling you in the middle of the damn night.”

“No worries. Call you as soon as I get some intel.”

We hang up and I pace the room like a caged animal.

I have so much unspent energy, so much anger and worry and frustration.

See, this is why I compartmentalize my life the way I do.

I keep my mom and her bullshit in a separate box.

I’ve spent ninety percent of my life fucking around, because fucking around is a helluva lot better than feeling the way I feel right now.

I consider going out. There are probably after parties happening around town.

I could find a nice, little puck bunny to stick my dick into.

Let off some steam. Get a release. I should’ve been out partying with my teammates tonight.

We fought for that win. We pulled it out.

But damn, now I’m here in my hotel, sick with worry for two kids that I hardly even know.

I should’ve been more involved. Maybe I should’ve tried harder, moved them out to Vegas with me, Ma included.

She hasn’t been right for a long time. I guess I just felt that staying away and staying out of their lives for the most part was the best way to keep the stress and anxiety at bay.

I always felt like even though my mom was making shitty choices, the kids were still okay.

Getting what they needed, but that’s not the case.

They’re neglected and possibly suffering abuse.

And the guilt overtakes me like a toxic cloud seeping into every crack and fissure of vulnerability I own.

You play a game with a stick, son. Anyone could do that.

You’re lucky they took a chance on you, son. You wouldn’t have amounted to much more than that anyway.

Glad you left when you did. I didn’t need another mouth to feed, son. ’Specially a useless one like you.

Was she like that with the kids now? Fuck.

I’d been kidding myself. If the first chance to take my siblings to one of my matches ended with her hawking shit for cash, then Haley and Logan have always been in harm’s way.

And I’ve been oblivious. Have run as far away as I could so I wouldn’t have to see it firsthand.

I left before they were born. I barely acknowledged they existed at first. I mean, shit, I was a freshman in college when Haley was born.

A junior when Logan came along. Ma was young when she had me, like eighteen.

She was in her mid-thirties when she had another baby, with a guy she said was good, who would stick around.

I can only guess if he’s Logan’s dad, too, but he beat feet soon after the little guy was born, and Ma went way downhill after that.

I just couldn’t deal with it. I had pro teams looking at me, a chance to make something of myself with the only thing that ever made any sense in my life.

I think about calling Zoya again. I want to call Zoya again.

Because she…listens. No one has ever really listened to me.

But then again, have I ever really had anything to say?

Hookups. Drunken parties. No. I can’t bug her with this shit.

I mean, she calls herself my BFF, but I think she just says it to make sure I know the boundaries. Friend zone, only.

I make myself lie down on the couch, falling into one of those fitful sleeps that doesn’t ever feel like real sleep at all. Because it isn’t.

Straight-up fuckin’ dream warfare.

When my phone rings again, I sit bolt upright, my heart about to lunge out of my chest. It’s Jack, and it’s nine in the morning.

“Okay, I located the kids. Children’s services interviewed them. I guess they spent the night in a holding cell, which has got to be goddamn terrifying, and I gave them an earful about it, believe me.”

“But they’re okay?”

“Far as I can tell. The report indicates they were supposed to watch their brother play hockey when their mother decided to sell the tickets, so there is confirmation from them that you’re their sibling.

The person from children’s services says your mom will be held until her initial hearing.

They think she’ll have several charges to contend with, possession of methamphetamine, child endangerment times two, a fraud charge, and a charge for assaulting an officer.

It doesn’t look good for her, probably at least eighteen months in jail.

So, I asked for emergency, temporary custody for you until we can get a lay of the land and figure out a longer-term solution that works for everyone. ”

It hits me like a ton of bricks. Temporary custody. Of two small children. Holy fuuuuck. Is this the right thing? Should I be doing this?

“Yo, Tyler, you still with me?” Jack’s voice penetrates through the shock. “This is what you want, right? They said they can put the kids into foster care, but it’s always better if a family member can take them in. I figured that was what you wanted.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Yep. Yes. That’s what I want. Tell me what’s next.”

“I got a hold of Winter, the social worker I told you about, and she’s now the case manager of record.

I’ve texted you her info. She’ll bring the kids over to the hotel, interview you, talk about options and next steps with you.

I can call you back if it gets into a legal conversation. I’ll stay at the ready.”

“Thanks, Jack, you’re saving my life right now.”

“I’ve got you. But do have the conversation with Brown and Bellikowski as soon as you can.

You’ll have to stay in Boston for a while to get this sorted.

Get team management up to speed with what’s going on with you.

Family takes precedence over sports. Remember that.

We’re not living in the dark ages anymore.

They’ll support you through this so don’t worry about that part, but do let me know if you need me to intervene. Talk to you soon.”

“I’m giving you two weeks to get back on the ice, Lockhardt,” Coach says on the other end of the line. “This family matter is a good thing you’re doing, but we need you back here, too.”

“I got ya, Coach. I want to be out on the ice with the guys as well."

“Make sure you check in with Dale on your daily workouts, so you stay in game shape. No snacking on donuts out there, son. Keep it tight and keep us in the loop, please.”

Chuckling, I promise Coach to work out daily and "keep it tight" as he said. I thank him again for the time off. After I hang up, I find myself rubbing absently at an ache pounding away in my chest. Heartburn, maybe? This shit is stressful. Two emotionally packed phone calls have my head good and spinning. I need a shower. I need to put on something other than a T-shirt and workout shorts. The kids might be hungry. I’m hungry.

After ordering a ton of room service, I take a quick shower and throw on a nice shirt and some jeans. The food comes, and just a few minutes later, there’s another knock at the door.

A drop-dead gorgeous woman with long dark hair and a medium-sized baby bump stands there with Logan and Haley, one in each hand. Not at all what I’d expect a social worker in Southie to look like, but what the fuck do I know about anything right now. She’s brought them here and they’re safe.

“Tyler Lockhardt?”

“That’s me.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Winter Blakney and I have two sweeties here who really want to see you.

” The kids both look scared and tired as they hold on to her, their little faces so small and innocent that I can’t help but crouch down to their level.

They instantly step forward and I pull them into a tight hug.

“You guys okay?” I whisper.

Both of their heads bob up and down.

“We got arrested!” Haley exclaims.

“Did they put the cuffs on ya?” I ask, trying to keep it light.

“They put us in the back of a police car,” she says, wide-eyed.

“Well, let’s go inside. I have breakfast for you.”

“Hungry!” Logan yelps, bounding inside.