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CHAPTER TEN: DISRUPTIONS

STACEY

“Mommy, when we get to Gram’s, can I have juice?”

I look up and catch Millie’s reflection in the car’s rear view mirror. She’s gazing at me expectantly and I give her a smile.

“Sure, baby. I’m sure Gram’s will have some for you.”

It’s a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon, and Millie and I are visiting grandma.

This visit is a good distraction for me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Owen, even though I haven’t seen him since Thursday. I keep going over and over whether he knows about Millie, and the more I think about it, the more certain I am that he doesn’t know, which means he couldn’t have gotten my voicemail. And if that’s the case, he didn’t just ignore my pleas for him to call me.

As much as I hate to admit that possibility changes things between us… it does. It doesn’t make up for the fact that he left me without saying goodbye, or the letter I received afterwards, but it does mean he wasn’t as callous as I thought.

The only problem is, I really don’t know what to do with this realization.

I even took Friday off so I could avoid him and get my head on straight. It’s pretty cowardly of me, yeah, but I don’t care. I need to figure out how I’m going to deal with this situation without dragging Millie into the middle of this mess.

When we reach the assisted living facility, I find a parking spot and Millie and I make our way through the front entrance. The interior of the building is friendly looking, the walls painted a soft blue with framed paintings of wide, green landscapes hanging on them. The floor is a light gray tile that’s clean and shiny, and there are vases of fresh cut flowers sitting on console tables on either side of the entryway as you walk inside. The place feels cheery and well cared for, which was important to me when we were looking for places for Gram to go. I hated the idea of her in some drab, depressing retirement home where the residents had no real sense of community or engagement.

Straight ahead as we walk into the building is the curved, wooden reception desk. The attendant standing behind it looks up at us and gives us a broad smile.

“Oh! Stacey, Millie, hello! Mrs. Dixon will be so happy to see you both.”

“How’s she doing?” I ask as I sign in.

“She’s a delight,” the attendant answers. “Everyone loves your grandma.”

That doesn’t surprise me in the least. Gram has made quite the group of friends since she’s lived here. Once we’re checked in, I take Millie’s hand and we make our way down the hallway toward her room.

“Knock, knock,” I say, poking my head through the open door.

Gram is sitting in her favorite rocking chair next to a large window overlooking the garden. Her room is good sized, and is really more like a small apartment. She has a separate bedroom, bathroom, and a small kitchenette attached to her living room, though there is a community dining room that serves three meals a day. She’s knitting, her brow scrunched as she concentrates on her work, but quickly looks up at the sound of my voice. Her green eyes twinkle as her face lights up with a bright smile.

“Stacey!” she exclaims, and then her gaze lands on Millie, who slips in beside me. “Millie, sweetie! What a lovely surprise.”

“Hi, Gram!” Millie exclaims, rushing to her.

I bend down to kiss Gram’s cheek. “How are you feeling today?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” she says, patting my hand as I sit on the edge of her little sofa, kitty-corner to her chair. Millie climbs into her lap. Gram is small and plump, but she’s still strong and doesn’t bat an eye to have the six-year-old sitting on her. Her hip seems to be as good as new now that she’s fully recovered.

“Gram, can I have some juice, please?” Millie asks in a sweet voice.

“Of course, sweet pea,” my grandma says, reaching for the mini-fridge right next to her chair to pull out a juice box. She hands it to Millie with a wink. “Don’t spill now, alright?”

“I won’t,” Millie assures her. “Mama let me have a soda yesterday, and I drank the whole thing without spilling once!”

“Oh, is that so?” Gram shoots me a smile and a wink. “You’re getting to be such a big girl, aren’t you?”

Millie nods. “Yep! My skating teacher says that I’m going to move up to the bigger kid class soon because I’m getting too big for the little kid one.”

“That’s wonderful news!”

I watch them, a pang of warmth and worry settling in my chest. My grandma is so good with Millie, and we’ve always been a unit. I wish she’d reconsider staying here alone.

“Gram,” I start gently, “have you given any more thought to moving back home? We miss you, and you’re doing so well now! You’ve recovered and if you have any issues, I’m a physical therapist. I can handle it!”

She waves me off with a chuckle. “Oh, Stacey, you worry too much. This place is just right for me, and you know it.”

I sigh, leaning back slightly. “I hate the thought of you here without us.”

“And I hate the thought of you worrying about me for no reason.”

Grinning, I murmur, “Touche.”

We chat for a little bit about school and Millie’s latest antics. I do my best to hide how distracted I still am, but of course, my grandma can see right through me.

“Millie, dear,” Gram says. “Why don’t you go play with those dolls I showed you the last time you were here? The ones I said were like the dolls I had as a girl?”

Beaming up at her, Millie declares, “Okay!”

She hops off Gram’s lap and rushes into her bedroom to find the dolls.

“Something’s bothering you,” she bluntly says after several minutes. “Spill.”

I hesitate, glancing at Millie, who’s returned and has plopped down on the floor with the rag dolls Grandma got for her. I lower my voice.

“I saw Owen,” I admit. “You remember Owen? From… uh, high school ? That one?” I give her a pointed look. “He’s playing for the Night Hawks.”

Her eyebrows lift and her eyes widen in shock.

“That’s a heck of a coincidence,” she declares, glancing toward Millie. “What are the chances?”

“About one in a million,” I grumble.

Her eyes flick back toward Millie. She asks softly, “Have you talked to him?”

“He apologized,” I say, feeling the words stick in my throat. “For how he left. Said he wished he could’ve told me face-to-face. But, Gram… I can’t tell him about…” I nod toward Millie, careful not to say her name or get her attention in any way. “It seems like he has no idea. I’m thinking he never got the message. I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve to know.”

Her expression softens, her surprise showing through. She measures each word carefully. “Do you think that’s fair to…?” She jerks her chin toward Millie, as well.

My stomach twists, and I peek over at my daughter, happily babbling to herself as she arranges her dolls.

“He dropped the ball, either way,” I say firmly, careful not to give anything away that Millie will pick up on. “He went to Canada and that was that.”

“Hmm,” she hums, her eyes thoughtful. “What about you, though? Do you still have feelings for him?” She covers her mouth. “Sorry, too obvious.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “But do you?”

“No,” I answer too quickly, the word sharp. “I don’t. Not after everything he did.”

Gram doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press.

Instead, she murmurs, “You’ve worked so hard to build a life for you and Millie. Don’t let uncertainty knock you off course. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, and I know you’ll do what’s right for you and Millie in the end.”

Her words feel like a warning and a truth I don’t want to face. My stomach churns again, my anxiety and turmoil bubbling.

“Speaking of disruptions,” Gram says, her tone lightening, but there’s an edge to it that has me tensing. “Your mother’s in town.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “What? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” she says with a small laugh. “She called me this morning.”

“Why didn’t she call me?”

Gram shakes her head and lets out a breath of frustration. “Likely because she doesn’t want to admit that the reason she’s in Denver isn’t to see either of us, but for some new man she’s been talking to on the internet.”

“Goddamn it…” I snap.

“Mommy! That’s a no-no word!” Millie exclaims from her place on the floor.

“Sorry, baby, you’re right,” I say. Focusing back on Gram, I continue, “So I’m guessing she called you, knowing you’d tell me, so she wouldn’t have to.”

“Knowing your mother, I would assume that, yes.”

Great. As if Owen’s sudden reappearance wasn’t enough, now I have to deal with my mother too. She might be busy with her latest bit of man-candy, but she’ll come around eventually, and when she does, it’ll be a shit show. My carefully constructed world feels like it’s starting to unravel, thread-by-mother-fucking-thread.

After our visit with Grandma, I drive us to the Night Hawks arena. Sunday mornings are usually quiet because they don’t typically have practice, so it’s a good chance to use the ice with no one else around. Millie is practically vibrating with excitement in the back seat as I pull into the parking lot.

“You promise I can skate on the big ice, Mama?” she asks for the fifth time as she kicks her little feet with her cheetah-print boots.

I smile at her in the rearview mirror. “I promise. Just you, me, and the rink.”

Millie claps her hands together.

“I’m going to go so fast!”

“You’ll go as fast as I let you,” I warn her. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. You’ve got your big skating recital coming up, remember.”

She rolls her eyes and groans. “Fine… but you know I’m the best skater in the world. I can go super fast and not fall.”

“Yes, I know But for my own peace of mind, let’s not go too fast, okay?”

“Okay,” she says with a dramatic sigh.

I get her out of her booster seat and grab her skates out of the trunk. She holds my hand and skips beside me as we make our way into the massive building. When we step into the arena, the faint smell of ice and the low hum of the refrigeration system greet us, as well as a few security guards who recognize us and nod as we move past them.

“All right, you can skate for a while and I’ll get some work done,” I tell Millie as we stroll through the arena to the rink.

“Okay!”

I smile at how giddy she is. Millie loves to skate. She takes lessons twice a week after school, but she always wants to skate on the rink just like the team. I think this arena and its rink is one of her favorite places in the world right now.

We walk through the doors to the rink, but as soon as the ice comes into view, I freeze.

Owen is here. His broad shoulders hunch slightly as he glides effortlessly across the ice. He has his stick and is chasing a puck around, his brow furrowed in concentration. He’s wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants, so he’s able to move with more fluidity than he does when wearing his gear. The way he glides across the ice with so little effort is almost… beautiful.

Goddamn it.

I squeeze Millie’s hand.

“Come on, sweetie,” I whisper, trying to steer her back toward the entrance. “We don’t want to bother?—”

She tugs free of my grip and bounds forward without a second of hesitation.

“Hi, Owen!” she shouts, her voice echoing across the empty arena.

Owen stops mid-stride, the puck coming to a halt at the curve of his stick. His head snaps up, and the moment his eyes land on Millie, they widen slightly before shifting to me. My cheeks heat under his gaze and I quickly look away and down to Millie, who's pressed up against the protective barrier around the rink. Owen doesn’t even have time to recover from his surprise at seeing us before Millie starts talking a mile-a-minute.

“Owen! Are you practicing? Why are you here by yourself? Mommy says we shouldn’t disturb you, but you don’t need the whole rink, do you? Do you want to race?”

“Millie,” I interrupt, trying to catch up with her as she bounces around. “Calm down.”

“It’s fine,” Owen cuts in, skating over to us. “She’s not bothering me.” He crouches to Millie’s level, his expression warm. “You wanna race, huh? You sure you’re up for the challenge?”

“Yeah!” Millie exclaims.

Millie’s excitement is contagious, but my mind is a mess. I can’t do this. I can’t let him in. Not now, not like this.

“Millie,” I start, the whole situation making me uneasy, “maybe we should let him practice…”

“Please, Mommy!” she begs, her hands clasped dramatically like this is the most important moment of her life. “You promised I could skate, and Owen said I’m not bothering him!”

“Yeah, come on, Mom,” Owen pipes in, the corner of his mouth tilting up into an amused smile. “You promised.”

I try to ignore how alike the two of them are at this moment. I can’t let my mind go down that road because I’m not sure how I’ll handle the guilt I feel, unfairly or not, at the fact that, apparently, he has no idea this is his daughter.

Knowing how stubborn Owen can be, I’m afraid that if I continue to go out of my way to keep him and Millie apart from each other, he’ll grow curious. And then suspicious. If I act like it’s no big deal for them to hang around each other, maybe he won’t think too much about where her blue eyes come from.

I sigh. “Fine, but just for a little while.”

Millie cheers and throws her arms around my waist. I help her get her skates on and lace them up slowly, my hands trembling. Owen waits for Millie at the edge of the rink and opens the little door for her when she’s ready.

Once she’s on the ice, Millie doesn’t waste a second.

“Ready? Set? GO!” she shouts, pushing off with a burst of determination.

Owen lets her take the lead, skating alongside her with just enough effort to keep it fun. They laugh and chatter, Millie peppering him with questions, and Owen answering like he’s known her forever.

I sit in the stands and watch them. My chest feels tight, the sight of them together simultaneously breaking and healing something deep inside me. The way Owen interacts with her—it’s effortless. Natural. He doesn’t know the truth, but watching them, it’s clear. They belong to each other.

Christ, am I doing the right thing, keeping the truth a secret? I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t get past my fear of what will happen if Owen finds out. His wealthy family could take Millie from me, and I don’t have the resources to fight them.

I force myself to sit and watch them play uninterrupted for about twenty minutes, even though I feel like my heart is going to explode. It’s beating a million miles per minute and I can’t stop my leg from bouncing with nervous energy.

Millie is giggling and shrieking with laughter as she races Owen across the rink. They skate in circles around each other and at one point, Owen starts showing Millie trick shots with his puck and stick. She claps and cheers in delight, her face flushed with both the cold and her unfiltered excitement.

Suddenly, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket, yanking my attention from Millie and Owen. Digging the device out, I look at the screen and feel my heart stop when my I see that it’s my mom calling. What the fuck? She’s calling me now? Her timing could not be worse.

For a moment, I consider ignoring the call, but knowing my mom, if I do, she’ll only get pissed and more insistent. She’ll call me again and again until I answer, so I might as well get this shitshow over with now.

Sucking in a deep breath, I double check that Owen and Millie are thoroughly distracted by each other before I accept the call.

“Mom,” I say in a terse voice. “What’s up?”

“My, what a warm greeting,” she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a wonder I don’t call more often.”

I grit my teeth, my temper flaring, but I fight to keep it under control. I’ve learned over the years that it’s best not to give into her snark or respond to her cutting remarks. It only encourages her.

“I hear you’re in Denver,” I say instead. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning on letting us know.”

“I’m calling you now, aren’t I?” she snaps. “This is me letting you know I’m in town and that I would like to see you and my granddaughter while I’m here.”

If I were a betting woman, I’d put money on the fact that Gram told her I know she’s here, and that’s why she’s calling.

“I’m sure Millie will be thrilled to see you,” I reply cooly, keeping myself out of it entirely. One thing I’ll give Mom is that she loves Millie. She doesn’t see her often, but that’s not because she doesn’t want to see her grandchild…it’s because she doesn’t want to see me. When she’s with Millie, she’s patient and kind, reserving all her scorn and disappointment for me. Millie gets a wonderful version of her that I never got: When I was a kid, it was all strict edicts and shouting and condemnation.

I’m glad she doesn’t take her feelings for me out on Millie, but it’s hard for me to see her doting on my daughter because I remember how furious she was when I got pregnant. To this day, she thinks I ruined my life, and no matter how much she loves Millie, she can’t seem to let go of what my life could’ve been had I not gotten knocked up.

I think it’s more than that, though. She believes getting pregnant with me so young ruined her own life, and her pride kept her from asking for any help, which didn't make it any easier. All of her dreams and ambitions turned to me after that. I was the "hard-working, academically gifted daughter" she raised. Then I turned into an even bigger embarrassment than she was...well in her eyes at least. Regardless of the fact that I am successful, and am proud of that, our relationship never recovered.

“Well, I’m glad someone will be,” she grumbles. “When can I stop by?”

Ugh, I don’t want to deal with this right now. I glance out at the rink and watch as Owen spins Millie around until she’s squealing with laughter. Dealing with him being in Denver is enough stress for me…I don’t want to have to deal with Mom too.

“I’m not sure right this moment,” I tell her. “I’m really busy with work…”

“Right, massaging hockey players. It must be so demanding of your time.”

Clenching my teeth, I fight the urge to rip into her and tell her to stop undermining my job and all the hard work I’ve put into it, but I know there’s no point. I’m not a doctor, so she doesn’t give a fuck. It’s time to bring this conversation to an end before I lose control of my temper.

“I’ll let you know when we have some free time,” I say sharply. “I have to go now.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

We hang up and I clutch the phone so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if I cracked it. My mom has this special ability to make me feel like absolute shit no matter how well things are going in my life. Nothing will ever be good enough for her, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for getting pregnant as a teenager, even though the same thing happened to her.

God, if she found out about Owen being around, she’d go nuclear. She’d see any bit of civility between us as me being weak again.

Owen and Millie’s laughter fills the arena as my guilt and anger swirl together until it’s overwhelming.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“Millie!” I call out. “Time to go! You have school tomorrow.”

“Aw, five more minutes?” she pleads, her lower lip jutting out.

“Now,” I say firmly.

“You better listen to your mom, kiddo,” Owen tells her. I give him a small, grateful smile.

“Okay, fine.” Reluctantly, Millie skates over and begins taking off her skates. Owen comes over and gets off the ice to help her. He drops to one knee and removes one of her little pink skates, and my heart stops. Their heads bent together like that… the resemblance is undeniable. Anyone looking at the two would know they were blood related.

Shaking my head, I quickly move to pack up Millie’s stuff.

“Say thank you, Millie,” I tell her.

She jumps up and wraps her little arms around Owen’s neck.

“Thanks for playing with me,” she says, looking up at him with a kind of pure adoration that makes my heart clench.

Owen crouches, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Anytime.”

Her giggle echoes as she rushes back to me, and I grab her hand, leading her toward the exit.

As we leave, I glance over my shoulder. Owen is still standing there, watching us go. He waves us off in a friendly manner, but his expression is distant. Forcing my gaze away from him, I hurry along, holding tight to Millie’s hand. When I step into the crisp evening air in the parking lot, I realize I left a piece of my heart behind in that arena… along with the man who doesn’t even know he still has it.