Page 35
CHAPTER 35
EDIN
Two months later
Number eight is a fucking asshole. I’m pretty confident he’s trying to hurt someone while he attempts a goal. He’s a sloppy player at best. I have to wonder if he’s ever even made a goal. His attempts are lame as fuck. He’s rarely ever near the net and always has a reason for why he’s not.
How did he even get on the team? How does he earn ice time?
Last period, he hit me so hard and at the wrong angle so my hip burst with pain. It’s rare I feel any pain anymore. Even in my hip. Except when I’m hit just right . The air was knocked from my lungs and my vision went black. When I opened my eyes, I was on my back on the ice.
Since the game was still moving, I don’t think I blacked out, but it was fucking close. I rolled to my hands and knees and somehow made my way back to the bench. I could hear Mo screaming at the refs, who didn’t call a penalty.
Thankfully, the pain receded before the period was over. During intermission, our doc checked me out, and I assured them I was fine. It wasn’t even a dull ache anymore. Just a moment that really fucking hurt.
Now number eight is speeding straight for me. I’m standing in front of the crease, blocking his path and our goalie.
“You can move,” Smithers says. “Don’t let him hit you like that again.”
“I won’t.” Just as he’s about to slam into me, I drop my weight and hit his stomach with my shoulder. Jerking myself up, I send him flying over my head. I hear him hit the ice with a crash and the whistle blows.
Yes, I receive a penalty for unnecessary roughness.
I look at my daughter as I skate toward the penalty box. She’s absolutely furious as she slams her fists on the plexiglass and screams her head off.
Grinning, I take my seat.
My team has challenged the penalty and the refs are conferring. I watch my daughter; Elijah’s on one side of her and Dak’s on her other. Surrounding them are Sparrow, Zeke, Mario, Brent, and a couple of Elijah’s cheer friends. All of them are wearing my jersey.
All of them except Mo, who’s wearing her own. Double zero.
The penalty remains, which is fine. But at least number eight doesn’t get back on the ice for the rest of the third period. I’m not sure if that’s something from the refs or his own coach, though he looks irate because of it. The way he’s glaring at me has ‘ die ’ written all over it.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of so much as even a smug smile.
We win by two goals and then we’re filing off the ice. I hurry through the shower and change, leaving my bag behind. I’ll grab it tomorrow morning, but I don’t want to drag it along to dinner. Win or lose, we promised Mo we were going to spoil her this entire week to celebrate her birthday on Thursday. Thankfully, my away games begin on Friday, and I’ll be here to celebrate her actual birthday. Her party—her surprise party—won’t be until the following weekend.
The evenings can be difficult because of hockey. So, when I have games that finish late, we make sure to have dinner somewhere fun.
As soon as I step outside, Mo runs to me and wraps her arms around me. I make sure to hug my daughter a lot more now. I think we both need it.
“Are you hurt again?” She looks up at me with bright concern in her eyes.
I’ve come to understand that Mo sees a whole fucking lot more than I realized. She’s clearly always been attuned to me, no matter how much I tried to shield her from it.
“It hurt when I got hit, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
We promised each other we were always going to tell each other the truth, no matter how hard it might be. That includes things I’d much rather her not worry about, like whether I’m hurt. The one point she grudgingly accepted was when I said that it’s for Daddy to worry about and she wouldn’t push as long as I used it sparingly.
There’s no right way to parent. There’s no one way to parent. Every parent-child relationship is different. Mo and I have been through some shit together. We’ve been victims of the same situation, though in different ways.
If I expect her to tell me everything she feels so I can make sure she’s getting any kind of help she might need, I have to extend her the same kind of trust. I can’t just tell her to trust me without showing her the same in return.
Maybe not everyone agrees with that. But after the shit with my mother and discovering just how aware Mo was about my darkest fucking days—she admitted seeing me hold a knife to my chest and me bleeding from it—I know she needs the truth as much as I can give an eight- almost nine-year-old.
On top of that, I was very loud when I screamed at my mother that I’d have killed myself if it weren’t for Mo. I can’t make her unhear that. All I can do is talk about what we’ve been through and how it made us both feel and assure her I’m not sick like that anymore.
It was a really rough December. Not only having to uproot her from a home and all the uncles she loves, but pull her from aftercare where she had friends she misses. On top of all that, my young child is processing what happened to her. We’ve had conversations that were probably long overdue after we left her mother and the horrible home she started her life in.
I should have found her a therapist a long time ago. I thought I had done a better job of protecting her from the dark truth. She has someone she is talking to now and we have a third therapist who we talk to together.
Brushing Mo’s hair from her face, I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Promise. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
The worry Mo carries doesn’t leave entirely when she nods. I’m aware of her paying extra attention to me for the next hour to make sure I’m not in pain like I claim.
The rest of our party is waiting at the light pole, where Elijah is always waiting for me. He’s there, like he is every single day. There with a hug and a kiss and the same words I hear constantly.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss under my ear.
Half the people who were at the game have gone home, so it’s me, Mo, Elijah, Dak and Sparrow, Zeke, and Mario. It was really rough on everyone when Mo and I had to tell them we were moving out and why. I’ve never seen Mario with tears in his eyes, but he was definitely devastated. He’s since made it very clear he wants to remain a part of Mo’s life in whatever way I’ll allow.
Mo has playdates with Mario and whoever else wants to visit Mo in the park at least three days a week. Sometimes more. And Mario is over at our house a lot. He’s another uncle who Mo just adores.
As we gather around the table to eat, we listen to Mo list all the things the ref got wrong. She loudly voices how furious she is with my penalty. I point out how it was a penalty that was actually right, but she refuses to accept it since I crawled back to the box when he hit me just as hard.
During dessert, Sparrow leans forward and says, “Since we’re all gathered, let’s have our weekly Mo roundup a day early. I have two meetings this week—Tuesday and Wednesday—that will interfere with picking Mo up from school.”
“I’ve got her Tuesday,” Eli says. “I have cheer on Wednesday during pick up.”
“I can grab her Wednesday,” Mario offers. “We’ll head to the park.”
“Okay, cool,” I say. It’s really fucking inconvenient how so many of my classes fell either during school pickup or ending at a time that I’d be late.
Needless to say, I pulled her out of aftercare. For the two weeks following my mother trying to abduct Mo and nearly succeeding, aftercare was closed. Other parents were absolutely furious, especially those who also have a no-pick-up list.
It’s since reopened. The woman who handed Mo to my mother was fired and there are more serious charges against her and the facility that I refuse to drop. I don’t really give a fuck it was an accident that has never happened before. I nearly lost my fucking child because of their carelessness. Fuck them.
I had a big heart-to-heart with those closest to me while Mo was in school the following day. By heart-to-heart, I mean a total breakdown in front of far more people than I’m comfortable seeing me that way. But it definitely proved that I do, in fact, have a lot of people who love me and Mo surrounding us.
Dak and Sparrow were always on Mo’s approved pick-up list. Especially as her legal guardians, which we’ve kept intact for right now as legal proceedings against my mother get underway. We’ve since added Elijah, Zeke, and Mario.
I’ve always thought the saying ‘ it takes a village to raise a child ’ was stupid and bullshit. I’m learning just how accurate it can be in some situations.
“Mo’s cheer starts on Thursday. I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of practice,” I promise.
Mo usually tunes out most of our conversations concerning who’s picking her up. She knows who she’s allowed to go with. I don’t care if it’s the president of the country or a goddamn police officer; she’s to throw a goddamn hysterical fit if anyone else tries to take her until I get there.
However, she perks right up at this part of our discussion with an excited smile.
“I’ll be there to watch,” Mario says.
“We will too,” Elijah adds, looking at Zeke. Zeke nods. “I know some of our cheer friends want to be there to support Mo, too.”
Mo grins. Nine times out of ten, when Elijah or Zeke take her, they’re practicing cheer when I get there.
“I’ll be there before practice ends,” I tell her. “Then we’re going to celebrate your birthday with cake and presents at the frat house.”
She looks at Mario with a beaming smile. “I can’t wait to see everyone!”
Mario grins. He leans across the table to tug affectionately at her ponytail. “They’re so excited, Mo. Be prepared to be overwhelmed.”
Mo giggles.
“You ready for your games this weekend?” Dak asks.
I sigh. I’ve considered time and time again giving up hockey since my mother tried to take my daughter. Leaving her for days at a time left me so anxiety-ridden that my game was suffering, anyway.
I’m always reminded by my friends that Dak has custody of Mo. Sparrow reminds me he has a bank account that will hold anyone off for quite some time should someone attempt to take her away legally, at least until I get there.
Elijah reminds me I’m not just playing hockey for myself; I’m doing so in an attempt to make a career and provide a better life for my kid. And he’s here with Mo. Every day that I’m not. Every day that I am. He won’t let anything happen to her.
It’s still a struggle and I’m not always convinced I’m making the right decision.
Elijah leans closer, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me close. “Mo and I will be there to see you off on Friday and there to welcome you home on Tuesday. Just as we always are. Go make us proud.”
Sighing, I lean into him. “Thanks. I’m ready. Probably.”
“Oh,” Sparrow says and gets to his feet. He moves behind Mo and covers her ears. She looks up at him with giggles. “That thing we ordered for her birthday came in while she was at school. We’ll have it set up for when we get home Thursday night.”
Mo pulls his hands down. “What did you get me?”
Sparrow mimes zipping his lips and tossing the key over his shoulder as he returns to his seat beside Dak.
“Aww. That wasn’t fair,” Mo says, glaring. “You can’t say something like that and not tell me when I can clearly hear you!”
Sparrow shrugs.
We head home after Mo tries adamantly to argue her point about why she should know now instead of waiting. She’s easily distracted on the way home while she talks animatedly to Elijah about cheer coming up.
We’re also working on getting her into some playgroups with other kids who go home after school. And maybe some clubs. It’s important to me, now that she’s lost all the groups of people she socializes with, for us to keep her exposed to lots of people. She’s not all that interested in meeting new people. Mo just wants the ones she’s always had in her life since we moved into the frat house—the frat guys and the kids she used to play with at aftercare.
Mo is far too excited this week to go to bed as easily as she typically does. So I let her read in bed for an hour past her usual bedtime as long as she stays in bed.
I intended to study tonight, but I feel emotionally wrung out. I had a video meeting with the lawyer handling my whole fucked-up case today and I’m exhausted. Thankfully, I was able to schedule it when I could sneak in some time with Elijah, so he was there, too. I hate talking about my past alone. My therapist is one thing because we’re no longer truly talking about my past, but now working on my present. She already knows everything about my past that I could possibly say.
Now it feels very heavy and… dark. The weight of reliving any part of it when she’s been here threatening to take Mo away quite quickly begins to pull me under if I’m alone. This time, I had the presence of mind to do something about it. Elijah is my first choice, but I’ll very happily accept Dak or Sparrow’s company, too. They’ve already seen me at my worst.
“You going to be okay for a couple weeks without Confessions?” Elijah asks as we lay in bed. I can just barely hear Mo’s voice as she reads out loud to herself. She loves to read out loud. I have no idea why, but I did some research, and it’s actually good for her.
“My bank account is fine,” I assure him. I know that’s why he’s asking. Like Dak, I think he’d take care of me completely if I let him. Or if I needed him to.
He kisses the side of my head. “Good. I can schedule us for a few in two weeks if you want.”
Honestly, my bank account is fine. It’s rather healthy. I have some misgivings about continuing sex work while I fight for my daughter, but again, I don’t have custody of her, and I don’t plan to take it back from Dak any time soon. Mo is safest like this.
Besides, there’s the whole movement of sex work being legitimate work that’s been going on for the past three decades. My lawyer is aware, and we have an argument built up. I can’t imagine my mother would look for me on porn sites, but who the fuck knows?
Not to mention, I seriously don’t have time for any other jobs while still maintaining my full-time school load, hockey, and parenting. As Mo begins after-school activities, I’m very aware of how much I’m going to be missing and it’s already weighing on me. For right now, this is what’s working for me and allowing me to provide for my child. That’s what matters.
However, after struggling for so many years to make basic ends meet, I don’t know that there will ever be an amount of money in my bank account where I’ll feel comfortable. Money isn’t infinite. It won’t last forever. It will run out eventually. I’ve spent so long seeing a negative sign in my account that I will probably never pass up an opportunity to put more money in my account.
Just in case.
“Yes,” I say.
“We should just open a ReachMe account,” Elijah teases, not for the first time.
I smile, turning my face into his neck and breathing him in. “I’m good with the way things are going.”
“We already have a following,” he points out.
“We do, but I’d rather keep things like they are. Unless you feel strongly about it.”
“I don’t,” he says. “I just want you to remember that there are other options. And I happen to know our videos create a spike in income for DIK. That’s why I refused to let them film anymore without giving you a raise.”
I look up at him with narrowed eyes. “Is that what happened?” I now make between $1500 and $1800 per video. Plus, there’s the usual bonus bump when I do multiple in a day since the last scene is always quite a bit longer as I’m worn out and my dick is tired by then.
Elijah smiles.
Huffing, I bury my face back into his neck. “No changes for now, but I’ll keep that in mind if I don’t go anywhere with hockey.”
He chuckles.
We roll into each other and tangle together. If Mo were asleep, we’d be naked. But I can still hear her reading to herself. Which is fine. My little family is right here. Safely under one roof, I’m happy just like this.