Page 41

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

HADLEY

Hunter: Any updates?

Hadley: She’s out of surgery and doing fine. We’re on our way home. Thanks for checking in.

Hadley: Sorry to miss the fireworks and everything.

Hunter: Next year.

Hadley: If you’re still a Wolf then. You could be a Blackhawk.

Hunter: Shhh don’t jinx it!

“You didn’t have to come.” I reach across the center consul and squeeze Jonas’s hand, though, negating my words.

Checking the road, I pull out of the parking garage and head towards my mom’s condo.

My thoughts are a chaotic mess, but I’m too tired and preoccupied to sort through them.

Going through the motions of normal activities helps me shift them to the back corner of my mind.

He squeezes back and stares over at me from the passenger seat of my mom’s Lexus LX. “I know. But I wanted to.”

I tried to talk him out of it. It’s not his problem; I can take care of my mom myself. But the minute I booked a ticket, he booked one next to me. And here he is, helping me drive her home from the surgeon’s office.

The past thirty-six hours were a whirlwind.

We rushed from the Wolves arena back to Jonas’s house, found a flight, packed, and made it to the airport by the skin of our teeth.

We arrived in Boston late last night. I barely closed my eyes in my childhood bedroom before it was time to get up and take my mom to see her doctor.

And then I sat, restless, in the waiting room during her procedure.

I glance at her in the rear-view mirror.

Her head rests against the window, mouth open slightly as she snores.

They gave me all kinds of instructions as we left—Jonas nodded competently and took notes on his phone while I zoned out, overwhelmed.

I remember the nurse saying my mom would be out of it the rest of the day, though.

“I’d rather be back in Chicago,” I mutter, focusing my attention on the traffic.

Jonas shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

I snort. “It shouldn’t be. But my mom turned it into one.”

He shifts in his seat to face me. “You’re mad about this?”

I bristle, mostly at the fact that he’s not. “Yes, I am. And it’s totally justified, by the way.”

“I don’t see?—”

“Jonas, she made me think it was an emergency, but it was elective surgery. When Brandon decided the ProAm golf tournament in Hilton Head was more important than being here for my mom’s recovery, she could have canceled.

But she had to have this tummy tuck.” I roll my eyes.

“Though it’s the last few days of my break. ”

And I already had plans. With Hunter and Natalie. With Jonas and his family. God, it was awesome to be surrounded by a normal family at his house in Chicago.

Jonas adjusts the brim of his cap. “It’s only a few days. It’s?—”

“If you say, ‘not a big deal,’ again, I will scream. Not all of us have a nursing background and a heart of gold.” He chuckles, and I sigh. “I know I sound incredibly selfish. And I guess I am? It’s just—there’s more to it than my mom asking me for help.”

His brown eyes are full of warmth when he gazes at me. “Can you explain?”

I bite my lip, wanting the right words. “If my mom had asked me in advance to come home and take care of her for a few days, I wouldn’t mind. But the fact that Brandon bailed on her—that stings. Or it should. It doesn’t bother her.”

“And you want it to?”

“Yeah. I want her to want more from her partner. Would you ever put your career over someone you care about like that?” If he plays professionally, he’d have to.

Like Hunter will have to leave Natalie. Miss birthdays and anniversaries, even rough days at work and days when she’s lonely and needs a hug.

Her schedule will have to bend to his, like my mom’s.

That’s how the world works, but I don’t have to like it.

So I rush on, “I mean, yeah, I know you’d have to. But if my mom would find a nice accountant to settle down with, she could build her life around someone who would at least be stable.”

“Even accountants have busy seasons,” he says, philosophically. “Like nurses or firefighters.”

I growl and glare. I’m not here for his rational thinking right now. “You know what I mean.”

“I get your point. I’m sorry that you feel like she doesn’t know her worth.” Then he smirks, the corners of his mouth turning up. “An accountant, huh? That was the best job you could come up with?”

“Yes.” I sound defensive, but I have to fight the smile that wants to pop out at his teasing tone. He makes me feel better, though we can’t change the situation.

“Well, it is pretty sexy.” He stretches his arm over, resting it along the back of my seat and toying with the stray hairs at my nape that escaped my messy bun.

Shivers run down my spine at the rough timbre of his voice, and I want to sink into the distraction he offers.

“All those spreadsheets and…okay, I can’t think of anything else. ”

Before I can get too invested in flirting with him, I turn onto our street. The doctor’s office sent us home with a handicapped parking tag, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I can find a spot in front of our building. I do my best, though, parking a small distance from our condo.

While in the middle of the city like Jonas’s house, it’s as different as possible. The sleek and modern high-rise in Southie has all the amenities my mom could want, but it feels sterile after spending time with the Kaminskis.

With another deep sigh, I glance at my mom, still asleep in the backseat. I fight the resentment that fills my chest. I look at Jonas. “What’s the plan?”

He gives a competent nod and exits the car. “I’ve got it. You just need to lead the way.”

He opens the back passenger door. His hands are so gentle as he unbuckles and catches my mom, sliding out.

Her eyes blink open, bleary. “Hadley, I knew you’d see the light.”

The light? Is she having a near-death experience? I grab the bag of supplies from the surgeon’s office and hustle to his side as he carries my mom.

I point to the correct building—they’re all the same, gray and black, sparkling with newness—and raise my brows at my mom. “Are you feeling okay? Because?—”

“I feel great,” she cuts me off with a giggle. “I knew you’d end up with a hockey player.”

I swallow the rage that bubbles in my throat as I let us into the lobby. She’s loopy, but how dare she make assumptions? Jonas doesn’t meet my eyes as he heads towards the elevator. I press the up arrow and take a deep breath. “We talked about this last night, Mom. Jonas is just a friend.”

She snorts, inhibitions apparently gone with the drugs flowing through her system. “I see the way you look at him. And vice-a-verse. Vice-verve. Vice-versa.”

“Uh-huh.”

We get in the elevator, and I jam the button for our floor, but unfortunately, she keeps speaking. “It’s the butt.”

“Pardon?” Jonas asks, an overjoyed smile spreading across his face.

My mom pats his head, her motor skills like that of a toddler cuddling a stuffie. “Everyone knows hockey players have the best butts.”

When did the elevator get so slow? He raises his shoulders in a tiny shrug and grins. “She’s right.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

That’s a lie. Of course I noticed. Jonas has the best ass in the entire world. But I’m not saying that out loud.

My mom must agree. “Better than football players. Better than baseball players. Better than?—”

“Mom, we get your point.”

Finally, the elevator doors open, and I sprint out.

“I, for one, would like to know what else my butt is better than,” Jonas says, his voice brimming with delight.

“I’m sure you would.” I hold the door to the condo open for him and plaster a pleasant expression on my face. “But we should probably get this delirious patient settled.”

“Deli-rus?” My mom slurs, barely able to form this word. “I’m not delri—del—what’s the word?”

“Loopy, Mom,” I say, my voice dry as the desert.

She manages to look affronted though she’s being carried into her home and practically wrote a sonnet about hockey butts. I keep my sigh in check.

“Mom, we’re gonna get you all set up in your bed.” Jonas and I walk past her living room. The new modern furniture is straight from a magazine spread, and I doubt anyone has sat on it, ever. She’s upgraded since I left at Christmas.

I open the door to her room. Her king-sized bed looms large in the space, and I try not to stare at Brandon’s stuff scattered on the far nightstand. I guess he’s moved in. I kinda figured, but it’s not something she and I had talked about.

Like most things in our relationship, I guess. When was the last time she called or texted? Only now because she had no one else to take care of her.

“Okay.” I fluff the pillows and force a smile. “The doctor said you’ll be most comfortable if you sit upright.”

Jonas sets her down, and I fetch a blanket and the TV remote. “Here you go.”

Putting the remote close by, I get her all tucked in. Before I can leave, she grabs my hand.

“He’s a keeper, honey.”

My cheeks heat, and Jonas clears his throat. “If you’re okay, Marissa, I’ll go check on your medication.”

He hurries out of the room, and I turn to my mom. “Yeah, he’s great, but he’s just a friend.”

Despite the drugs, she raises an eyebrow. “Where did he sleep last night?”

“Well…” Being a gentleman, Jonas of course offered to sleep on the couch or the floor. I let him do neither.

“That’s what I thought.” My mom gives me a smug smile. “He’s great. Just?—”

“Be careful, be safe, I know. I’ve been on the pill forever, Mom. We’re good.” I’ve heard this lecture a million times. “I’m not gonna do something dumb like get knocked up and throw away my future.”

Her face shutters closed, and she blinks.

Ouch. That was thoughtless of me. “I didn’t mean… I know you want me to have options. Maybe options you didn’t have. I’ll be okay.”

“I was on the pill, Hadley, and we always used condoms. Sometimes life has different plans. And I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

“Gross, Mom, I don’t want to know all that.” But I smile to let her know the sweet sentiment hits. Her words are nice—unfortunately her actions don’t back them up. Maybe she won’t remember she told me this.

“Anyway.” She yawns, and I stand to go. “Jonas is great. I’m so glad you brought him home.”

Her eyes droop closed, and I tiptoe out of her room. Jonas is awesome, no doubt about that. He’s going to make some girl incredibly happy someday. He’s probably ready to get married and start a family right after graduation. I’m pretty sure that’s what all his sisters did.

The thing that really triggers my rage, though?

After spending time with him and his family, I was ready to be that girl.

I was ready to give up my dreams, my semester abroad.

He didn’t ask me to, but the temptation was there, and I was willing to throw it away all the same. Disgust rises like bile in my throat.

How could I have been so dumb? It’s not my mom I’m mad at, although she reminded me of everything I need to avoid. Nope, it’s me I’m upset with. Because I forgot what’s really important.

No matter how great he is, I can’t give up myself and my future for Jonas.