Page 158 of Forbidden Hockey

Strolling into the kitchen, I lean against the wall, watching him clamor around the kitchen. He’s still dressed in the jeans and flannel he arrived at The Wicklow in. Crusted blood trails down to his lips, and the steel hasn’t left him, hardening his movements. Pretty sure he’s using baking to cool off, but it’s not working so well.

“Glad to see you still listen. Set the table.”

“Hunt—” It happens again when I look at his face. That knot. The pressure. Getting pretty sick of it. And now, thanks to Dash, Mom is front and center in the stage of my mind.

The sorrow, the rejection, the confusion. I don’t know what I did to make her hate me so much. I spent a lot of time ruminating, wondering what the fuck I could have done. Eventhough I know Mom’s fight has never been with us—it’s been with herself. She’s been lost in something since Dad died that doesn’t let her find her way back. It would be so,sooooappreciated if the logic in my head could get the irrational way I feel on board.

And I … I’ve been so fucking worried that if I speak up, I’ll get the same from Hunt.Even though that makes no conceivable fucking sense. Mom didn’t leave us; we left Mom.

I take a breath, using the time it takes to set the table to collect myself. Is he really planning on serving me cinnamon buns for dinner? He’s lost it. But I continue gathering cutlery, plates, mugs—gotta have coffee with cinnamon buns—and placing them out.

“They’re out there, on the porch,” I say. “It’s gonna rain. We should invite them in.”

“Travis isn’t welcome here. Get rid of him, Dirk.” Saying all that used up the shred of patience he’d finally collected.

I hold still, closing my eyes.

“He took advantage of you. You don’t see it now, you can’t.”

“Do I look like someone who can’t hold their own, Hunt? Look at me. Can you even see that I’m not a little kid anymore?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then let me make my own decisions.” No, that’s not good enough, and I know it. I turn to face him. “Trav is my decision to make, and I have. I’m staying with him. Hurt him, and you hurt me.”

I slam the last plate down a little more forcefully than I intend to, needing the blanket of anger to fortify my resolve while I wait for it to come. Wait for Hunter to lash out, kick me out,slap me in the face.I count every beat of my heart, every breath, doing whatever I can to keep my ribcage from collapsing in on itself. When he finally speaks, I flinch.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he says, his voice lacking the usual Hunter tenor.

It takes a second to register that he’s non-confrontational. He didn’t do anything the raw ball of anxiety expected him to do.

“Which thing? I said a lot of things,” I croak.

“That you saw me as your father figure.”

“Always, Hunt. I thought you knew that.”

He bites his lip, shaking his head, pure disbelief clouding him. “I didn’t know. I’ve been pushing so hard against you dating a man twice your fucking age because I thought I’d totally fucked this up.” Hunter gestures between me and him.

“This?”

“Y’know, raising you right. I want … all the best things for you,” he forces out, breaking down. His voice rasps, and he wipes at the tears that re-wet the blood on his face, smearing it around.

“Oh, Hunt. You have. You’re everything to me. Keeping this from you’s been killing me. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t give him up. I’m so head over heels in fricking love with him.”

“I thought you, uh, that you had some kind of Daddy issues going on. I was considering making you see someone about it.”

I shake my head. “Nope. I have a great Dad. No Daddy issues in sight.”

“C’mere, kid.” I wander into his powerful construction-man arms. He traps me there, crushing me.

“For the first few months after we left Mom, I felt so fucking guilty. It was probably the most selfish thing I’ve done.”

I pull halfway out of his arms so I can see his face. “What do you mean, Hunt?”

“I wasn’t strong enough,” he says, his deep voice broken. “I couldn’t watch her destroy herself anymore—especially when I knew it wasn’t getting better. I gave up on her and made you do it, too.”

“Don’t you dare call yourself selfish. I watched you breaking yourself to keep us afloat, Hunt. If we’d stayed with Mom, we woulda drowned with her. You had to make the kind of choice that breaks most people.”