Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hayden

To say I was surprised when Jackson asked if I wanted to take care of the kids this afternoon would be an understatement. He had a full day of team obligations, and Christie had an unexpected appointment she needed to attend after she did the school run. I’ve been a nervous wreck all day because this is a big deal.

Yeah, I took care of them when they were sick while Jackson was at his game, but this time, they’re healthy. They’re running around, making a lot of noise—and also a lot of mess—and it means I have an even bigger chance of fucking things up.

“Hayden! Check this out!” Ryan calls out from the family room.

I round the table to where he’s got his mini goal set up, but he’s not using his mini sticks. No. He’s using his full-sized stick and a real puck.

Christ. I can just see it now. How will I explain a broken window to Jackson? He’ll never leave me unsupervised ever again.

“Whoa, no. No pucks in the house,” I quickly say, reaching down to pick it up. “Where are the foam ones? Or the foam balls?”

“In my room,” he says with a sigh. “But it’s such a long way.”

I scoff. “Ryan Wilde, you’re telling me you want to be a professional hockey player, but you can’t run up a small flight of stairs to get a puck? What’s your dad gonna say when he comes home to the Lake Michigan wind blowing a mess in the family room ’cause you broke a window?” I raise a questioning brow.

Isabela giggles from where she’s sitting in the corner of the couch, iPad and elephant in hand.

Ryan rolls his eyes and sighs again defeatedly.

“Okay,” he drawls. “I’ll go get them.”

I take the hockey stick from him, and he runs upstairs. Turning to Isabela, I sit on the edge of the couch. She’s warmed up to me a lot, but sometimes she still gets overly shy, so I always let her do things on her terms.

“What do you wanna have for dinner? Your daddy says you like mac and cheese.”

Her eyes light up, and she nods.

“Okay, we can do mac and cheese, and then maybe we can have ice cream cookie sandwiches after.”

“Yay!” she cheers.

Ryan comes back downstairs with a bucket of foam pucks, and I show him a few different stick-handling techniques until it’s time to start dinner. They busy themselves by doing some coloring, and then I sit with them in the living room while they eat and watch Bluey .

“I’ll wash up, then I’ll make us some ice cream cookie sandwiches,” I say, taking their bowls into the kitchen.

I’m rinsing up the saucepan when the front door opens, and I make quick work of drying my hands. Jackson’s home a lot earlier than I was expecting.

“Hey!” I call out, but when I round the corner, I freeze.

Because it isn’t Jackson standing in the hallway.

“Mom!” Ryan jumps up from the couch and wraps his arms around Laura.

“Hello! Surprise!” She beams, catching Isabela when she throws herself at her mom’s legs.

She does a double take when she spots me, eyeing me curiously between greeting the kids and responding to their mile-a-minute questions. All I can do is stand there.

Well, this is awkward.

“Oh, hi. Christie mentioned you were with the kids. Where’s Jackson?” she asks, glancing around as if he’ll pop out from under the stairs.

“Uh, he’s doing a toy drive with the team. He should be back soon.”

This is the first time we’ve ever met, and I’m not sure whether she knows who I am. Judging by the friendly smile on her face, I’m guessing Jackson didn’t tell her about us.

“Oh, cool. Sorry, I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Laura,” she says when she untangles herself from the kids. She walks over to me with an extended hand. “I’m their mom.”

“Yeah, I know,” I reply dumbly and shake her hand. “I’m Hayden.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She smiles .

Yeah, she has no idea who I am.

“I’m…” I motion to the kitchen over my shoulder. “I’m about to make ice cream cookie sandwiches for the kids. Would you like one?”

“Sure!”

“Why don’t you, uh, take a seat and spend some time with the kids? I’ll bring it out.”

She flashes me another dazzling smile and heads into the living room with the kids, who are talking her ear off.

Taking the ice cream from the freezer and cookies from the pantry, I scoop a serving of ice cream, placing it on one cookie before placing another on top, squeezing it gently so the ice cream spreads out in the middle, then place them in a bowl. My hands are trembling from the anxiety beginning to brew inside of me.

Is she going to tell me to leave? Tell me that I have no right looking after the kids or tell me that she doesn’t approve of Jackson’s and my relationship?

Fuck. What if she makes his life hell because of me?

You’re overthinking things , my conscience says, sounding a lot like Roberta’s voice.

Maybe, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to play this. One side of me wants to tell her she’s too hard on Jackson. How she needs to give him more credit, considering he’s the main parent. How she doesn’t really have the authority to criticize him when she’s the one who comes for a few days every couple of months. But then the other side of me wants to keep my lips sealed tight. To just nod and play nice because I don’t want to make things more difficult for him.

Sighing, I slip my phone from my pocket and text Jackson to let him know Laura’s here. He responds almost instantly to say he’ll be home within the hour as they’re finishing up.

Okay. I can do this. I can survive an hour with the love of my life’s ex-wife.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the bowls and carry them into the living room, where Isabela’s showing Laura some pictures she painted at school and Ryan’s showing her his recent math test results.

“Here you go!” I say, handing over the bowls. The kids take them from me with an enthusiastic thank-you, and then I hand the other to Laura.

“Thank you, this looks great,” she replies.

I sit down in the chair, letting Laura and the kids take the couch, and quietly eat my dessert. Episodes of Bluey play on a continuous loop, and I end up so engrossed in the show I don’t realize it’s gone eerily quiet.

I glance over to where Laura’s standing behind the couch, hands resting on the back of the cushions.

“The kids wanted to watch a movie on the big screen,” she clarifies, pointing to the open door that leads down to the theater room.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Silence falls again, and it’s so fucking painful. I subtly look at my watch. Where the heck is Jackson? Doesn’t he know I need saving right now?

“So, how do you know Jackson?” she asks, clearly not picking up on the awkward tension radiating from me.

“We used to be teammates. Played together in Boston.”

Surprise flicks over her face. “Oh. I know Jackson loved his time in Boston. Well, until it was all ruined after he was traded. ”

Ruined . You ruined it.

I ruined his memories of his time in Boston.

I ruined the joyous moments he had.

I ruined it.

There’s a numb sensation between my ears, like time is slowing and being dragged under a metaphorical wave. And Laura continues talking, completely oblivious to the dark pit I’m falling into.

“He was seeing someone there, I’m sure you know. But Jackson genuinely thought they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. He was thinking about where he would propose, where they would get married. He had planned out how they would spend their retirement. The whole thing. He was completely in love with them. Then he got the call he was traded.”

My throat closes up. Fuck. I can’t breathe.

He was going to propose to me?

You ruined his life. You don’t deserve him.

Numbness travels up my legs and my arms.

She throws her arms up in the air and shakes her head, disgust written all over her face. I’m not sure whether the disgust is aimed at me or, well… me. Because clearly, she has no idea that she’s referring to me.

“It was like he was just… abandoned! He had to move to this strange city where he didn’t know anyone.”

My chest becomes impossibly tight at the thought of Jackson, confused and alone and hurting over the trade. Over leaving me.

Over how you ruined his fucking life.

“He was screwed over, big-time. I know we’re divorced, and while I’m not in love with him anymore, he’s still the father of my kids, you know? I still care for him. But if I ever meet the person who could do that to Jackson… I’ll be sure to give them a piece of my mind. Who does that to someone? Just cut them off like they meant nothing? And to say they never really loved him?” She exhales a sharp breath. “What a fucking asshole move. They never deserved him.”

You didn’t deserve him then, and you don’t deserve him now.

I stand up in a rush. Dizziness washes over me as all the blood goes straight to my head.

“Yeah,” I manage to croak out. “Excuse me, I need to… uhhh…” I point toward the stairs and hastily make my way up to the spare room where I’ve been staying.

The pain in my knees and hips is like fire as I take the stairs as quickly as I can. I need to get out of here. I need to go before I ruin Jackson’s life again. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want to make the same mistakes that I made before, but Laura’s right.

I didn’t deserve him then, and clearly, I don’t deserve him now because the voices in my head are louder than my conscience.

Once I’m inside the bedroom, I fumble for my phone, and my voice is shaky as I send a voice message to Roberta.

“Roberta, I need to see you. Tomorrow. Please. I…” My voice cracks. “I’m… I’m not as strong as I thought I was… I…” I gasp for air and squeeze my eyes closed. “Tomorrow. Please.”

I hit Send, knowing she’ll be there waiting for me.

Like she always has been.

Dropping my phone on the bed, I fetch my bag and begin throwing in my clothes and toiletries. Then my phone vibrates on the bed with a text message.

Roberta

I’ll be here, but Hayden. You’re stronger than what your mind is telling you. You are worthy. You are deserving of goodness. You are loved.

She follows it up with a video of her jellyfish tank, and I don’t know how many minutes pass while I watch the video on repeat. It’s only when I hear the front door closing that I snap back to the present.

He’s home.

Glancing to my bag on the bed, tears well in my eyes, and I let out a choked sob.

Maybe this time was all we were supposed to have. I just hope he can forgive me for what I’m about to do.