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Chapter Twenty-Six

Jackson

I don’t know if it’s true what people say about kids being able to pick up on things or whether my kids decided to be tiny saints this morning because holy shit. When they both climbed into my bed at 3:00 a.m., I had to stop myself from crying. I had Isabela curled up against me on one side and Ryan on the other. They wrapped their little arms around me and didn’t kick me in the balls once.

But now, there’s no possible way of holding back my tears. My hand trembles as I finish listening to the voice message for the third time.

Why… Why did it sound like he was saying goodbye?

I press call on his number again, but it goes to voicemail. All of my texts have gone unanswered. I’ve sent so many messages on Instagram too, but they’re still marked as unread.

What the fuck is going on? He said he wasn’t going to give up on us. He said he was coming back for us.

Resting my forearms on the kitchen counter, I bend forward and bury my face.

“Dad?”

I snap my head up at the sound of Ryan’s voice, quickly wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

He frowns up at me. “Dad? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I, uh—” I clear my throat and give him a shaky smile. “Just had a message which upset me, that’s all.”

I try not to hide my emotions from my kids, especially when I’m upset and vulnerable. I want them to grow up knowing it’s okay to be upset and not to bury it down.

Ryan doesn’t say a word. He closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his head into my stomach.

“It’s okay to be sad, Dad,” he tells me, and fuck, does it hit me right in the heart.

Shielding my eyes with one hand, I wrap the other around his shoulders as I let out a choked sob.

“Daddy?” Isabela comes running in. She takes one look at us before barreling over to us, clinging onto my leg like a koala. I lean down to scoop her up, sitting her on the kitchen counter. She moves to stand up and wraps her arms around my neck. I hold on to her tight with one arm and Ryan with the other, and I cry.

I cry for the man that I loved fourteen years ago, and I cry for the man I love today. I wish I could make it all go away for him. The pain he experiences as a result of his injury. The self-sabotaging thoughts and the anxious spirals. I wish I could help take it all away for him so he can see how fucking special he is. How fucking loved he is .

“Where’s Hayden?” Ryan asks, resting his chin against me as he looks up.

“He…” I clear my throat. “He had to go back to California for an appointment.”

“Is he okay?”

Ryan’s question startles me. I don’t want to lie to my kids, and if things work out the way that I hope they do, they’ll be around Hayden when he has his low days. I don’t want to shield them in that sense because I believe it’s important to show kids that it’s okay to ask for help when they’re feeling down or to show their emotions when it gets too much. But I also don’t want them to worry about him because I will do enough of that for all of us.

“He’s going to be okay,” I tell him, smoothing my hand over his unruly blond hair. “Sometimes our minds can say mean things to us, and it gets us upset. Sometimes Hayden’s mind can upset him, and he’s gone to speak to someone who will help him.”

Isabela twirls the hair on the back of my head around her finger, head resting on my shoulder as Ryan seems to contemplate my words.

“There were some days that he seemed sad. It was like he was trying not to let it show, but when he thought we weren’t looking, he looked sad,” he explains, and then he manages to knock me speechless when he adds, “Hayden knows we love him, right? Me and Isabela.”

My eyes sting, filling with tears again. Ryan goes blurry, and when I don’t answer, the two of them squeeze me again in a hug. It takes me several long minutes to be able to stamp down the lump lodged in my throat and blink them into focus .

“He knows,” I whisper with a jerky nod. “And he loves you too.”

Hayden’s phone still isn’t connecting by the time I get to the practice facility. I confided in my mom over the phone after I dropped the kids off at school, and she tried to put me at ease by suggesting maybe he turned it off so he could get some sleep, but I don’t think it’s that.

Yeah, he would turn off his phone at night while he was with me, claiming he didn’t want our time to be interrupted, but there’s something in my gut telling me something happened.

And I don’t think I can carry on until I know what it is.

I stop by the kitchen lounge first, picking up a granola bar and bottle of Gatorade, then head into the locker room without saying a word. I sit in my cubby and try Hayden’s number again.

“Hey, you’ve reached Hayden Cassidy. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now.”

FUCK!

I press the End Call button so hard my knuckle cracks. In all the time we’ve been together, I never got his address. It never came up in conversation, and it didn’t cross my mind to ask him. All I know is he lives in Hermosa Beach.

But there are people in this room who have contracts with him. He and Peyton used to be tight; maybe he’s got it noted somewhere.

“Hey, Blaine, do you have Hayden’s address?” I ask.

My teammate lifts his head to look at me, his hands poised midair as he tapes his stick. “Uh, no, I don’t think I do. It might be on my contract, but that’s somewhere in my apartment. I’d call Alex to check because he did all our wedding invites, but he’s at the bakery.” He turns to call out to his twin. “El, do you have Hayden’s address?”

“No.” Elliot shakes his head. “I know it’s somewhere near LA, like Malibu? I dunno. Sorry, man.”

“I thought it was Santa Monica?” Zach adds.

I can feel my blood pressure beginning to spike. These guys have been in his life for years, yet they don’t know where the fuck he lives?

“You’re all wrong. He lives in Hermosa Beach,” I snap, getting to my feet. “I thought you all considered him a friend, yet in a time of need, you’d be fucking useless.”

I know I’m being an asshole, but my emotions are heightened from the lack of sleep and having my heart broken less than twenty-four hours ago. I’ll apologize to them later, but right now, my only focus is Hayden.

There’s only one other person who can help me, but at this point, I’m not holding on to hope. I head out of the locker room and down the hall to the gym.

“Peyton!” I call out to our captain. I round the corner to the gym and find him on one of the stationary bikes.

“Yeah?” he answers in a breath.

“Do you have Hayden’s address?”

His brows furrow as he thinks. “Maybe somewhere? Katy did all the holiday cards and shit. Why can’t you text him and ask?”

“Because I fucking can’t get hold of him!” I bellow. Why is it so fucking difficult? “He left me a voice message late last night, and I haven’t been able to get hold of him. My calls are going to voicemail, and he’s not reading my texts.” I drop onto the weight bench, my body trembling. I rest my head in my hands, willing my heart to calm down before it beats out of my chest. My voice is so quiet when I speak again it’s barely recognizable. “I’m worried something’s happened to him.”

The familiar whirl sound of the bike’s belt comes to a halt, and seconds later, Peyton’s dropped to a crouch in front of me. When I lift my head, worry flashes through his blue eyes. Blaine, Elliot, Zach, and Kendrick walk into the locker room wearing matching concerned expressions.

“In what sense? You think he’s in danger?” Peyton asks.

Sighing, I shrug. “It’s not my story to tell, but potentially. We…” I glance up at the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. We haven’t had the conversation on what we’re going to say to people. I mean, I haven’t even told my kids, but judging by this morning, I think they already know what Hayden means to me. But these guys standing around me are like family. We support each other through everything. We’re there for each other through the highs and lows, both on and off the ice. And if there’s a time where I need their support, it’s now. Because I’m a whisper away from falling apart. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now. We’ve been taking it slow because it’s not the first time we’ve dated.”

Someone gasps. I think it’s Elliot.

“You met someone in your rookie year at Boston,” Zach states, recalling the conversation I had with him last season while he was figuring things out with Carter. “But it all crumbled when you were traded to LA… That was Hayden? ”

I nod. “Yeah, it was.”

“Wow, plot twist because I didn’t see this coming,” Blaine admits.

“I did,” Peyton says, surprising me.

“You did?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think about it until now, but he’s always admired you. He wouldn’t let anyone chirp you on the ice or go near you, really. He was pretty reckless when we went out, but he was always more… I dunno, broken, I guess, whenever we played against LA. Then there was how you both behaved at Blaine’s wedding.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder to where our teammate stands.

“True. Alex mentioned it seemed odd,” Blaine agrees.

“Then there was my Halloween party. You two came in matching costumes, then you both disappeared for a while, then you were gone.”

“And Thanksgiving,” Elliot adds. “You were all heart-eye emoji at each other.” He makes a heart with his hands and puts it in front of his face.

I scrub my face with my hands. I guess Ethan was right. We did a shit job at keeping it quiet.

“I don’t know what to do. I’ve been getting his voicemail all morning, and he’s not answering any of my texts.”

“Mitchy! Get our phones, will ya?” Peyton shouts, and moments later, the young forward comes rushing in carrying all four phones.

“Here you go, Peyton Capybara.” Mitch grins.

Elliot hoots and smacks his hand in a high five.

“Fuck you both.” Peyton throws up his middle finger over his shoulder and taps on his phone with the other. They take it in turns trying to call Hayden, but as expected… “Voicemail.” Peyton frowns.

“What’s going on here? Some kind of secret society?” Coach Harris appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his wide chest.

“Jackson has an emergency, and we need to get him on a flight to California,” Elliot announces, then practically shouts, “Hermosa Beach!”

“We have time to call someone up from the farm team for tomorrow night’s game,” Blaine interjects.

“Or we can shuffle the lines around,” Peyton suggests, standing up to nudge Blaine. “We can take some extra ice time if needed.”

Coach’s expression turns puzzled. He holds his palms up. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Let’s start at the beginning because I feel like I’ve missed a crucial part of this conversation.”

I stand up and step in front of the guys. “Coach, I understand the implications that come with this kind of request, but I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t come from a place of desperation.” Taking a deep inhale, I do something I haven’t done in a long time. I put myself first, above being a hockey player and being a dad. “I need to skip today’s practice. I’ll be back for our game tomorrow night, but I need to go to California and bring the love of my life home with me.”