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auburn hart

I never imagined that in my mid-thirties, I’d be dropping my barely legal son off at his first apartment. He was incredibly fortunate—his place was double the size of any apartment I could ever dream of.

In the heart of the city, the building was where most of the players lived, according to his coach. This added to the growing list of firsts I’d never get to experience with Austin. I had always envisioned that when he turned eighteen, I’d drop him off at college, the military, or, if I had my way, I’d keep him at home where I could mama-bear him forever. But no, here I was, dropping my eighteen year old off in his brand-new, three-bedroom, high-rise apartment in Chicago.

Thank God I’d convinced Austin he didn’t need one of the fancy schmancy apartments at the top of the building with in-house catering, a laundry service, and concierge at your beck and call. I’d told him that if he could survive the first five years of his life on ramen noodles and mandarin oranges, then he could figure out how to make dinner or call food delivery like the rest of us responsible adults, so he wouldn’t burn through his first paycheck before the season started.

He huffed about not being in a penthouse like most Chicago Ravens players, but if I could manage to raise a child alone at seventeen, he could certainly survive on the twentieth floor.

“Mom,” he groaned. “How will I get action?”

I’d rolled my eyes.

I picked up one of the last brown boxes from outside the hallway, dragged it inside, and paused in the oversized, spacious living area. Awestruck was the understatement of the year.

His gym shoes squeaked along the marble floor, and I turned around, watching his blond curls bounce while he brought in the last of his boxes. He had the same bright blond hair I did, with the same tightly wound curls framing his face. We had blue eyes and bushy eyebrows much darker than our hair color. Unlike me, Austin was tall and lean, where I was short and curvy.

Tears glistened in my eyes as I stared at him, just as I used to when he was a baby. The little boy I once cradled stood before me, making eighteen years feel like mere moments.

Like that, the realization hit me that this might be one of our final moments together as a pair—a simultaneous first and last.

It had always been Austin and Auburn. Whenever friends had invited me to hang out, they expected Austin to come along, dragging his worn-out and due to retire blanket. What I never foresaw was my son discovering his passion for the ice during my weekends working as a concession host at an ice-skating rink.

“Mom,” Austin whined, dropping the box and coming up behind me. I clutched the oversized cardboard to my chest to mask the tears flowing down my cheeks.

“It’s nothing.” I attempted to wipe away the wetness with the box, but it scratched my face, making it worse.

“Mom”—Austin closed the distance between us—“come here.” He grabbed the box from my hands, then placed it behind us before wrapping me up in a hug.

“You promised me no tears.”

Pulling away, I swiped my cheeks for any residual wetness. “I’m trying, Austin.” I squeezed his cheek, and he laughed as he leaned over, giving me another hug.

“It’s hard being your mama. It’s always just been the double-A team, and now I feel like I’m leaving my baby to do his own thing.”

“I’m not a baby.” He huffed before grabbing the box and walking it into the primary suite that overlooked the lake.

I trailed him until I paused, looking at the trophy shelf. My son had achieved these accomplishments—all of the trophies were a testament to his ability.

“I’m so proud of you.” Shifting the conversation, I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Look at this.”

Austin approached from behind, and I laid my head on his arm. “When I was your age, I was nursing a stubborn little eight month old boy.” Tears pricked my eyes again as I looked out at the sun rising above the city. “Look at you, baby.”

“Look at us, Mama.” He coughed, hiding his emotions. “You did this for me.”

As I lifted my head, our eyes met, then we shared a soft smile. An expression that held the weight of our experiences. “I can’t believe it,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his waist in a sideways hug.

“The little boy who managed to convince the high school figure skating instructors to teach him how to skate before their classes began has now made it to the NHL.” I nodded several times, trying to shake off my disbelief and suppress my emotions.

“And a mom who moved to another state and sacrificed everything to make those dreams happen.”

We were quiet for a moment, letting the peacefulness of the city soak through and wash away those painful memories. “Youngest freaking player in the League.” Pride soared through my chest. So many people told me my kid was doomed because he was born to a teen mom, but this was proof that wasn’t our story. It was evidence of all the sacrifices I’d made for everyone else in my life—for my son.

I huffed out a little chuckle.

“I have enough from my paycheck right now to get you a place. Plus, with some sponsorships from social media that are starting to come in—” Austin walked around the stark room before walking into the living room, which was also empty. “Heck, you can live here with me. I know I said I wanted my independence, but there are two extra bedrooms…”

“Stop, baby.” I swallowed, hating the words about to come out of my mouth. “You wanted to do this on your own. You practically begged me not to move in with you, said kids your age live alone all the time. You’re a big kid now with a big-boy job.”

He pushed some of the blond curls off his forehead. “I’m just around the corner,” I assured him, which was a half-truth. It was more like twenty minutes, and in rush hour, probably more like an hour.

“You’re in a new city, you still don’t have friends here…”

“I just got a job working at this cute local coffee shop by the stadium. The owner seems nice. Plus, I still have your aunt Emma who lives just a few hours away in Michigan. I’ll be fine.” I conjured up a genuine smile because that was a half-truth. “Don’t you worry about me.”

When Austin got signed with the Ravens, I couldn’t let him move to another state without me, so I tagged along and found a small studio in Wrigleyville and a job by the stadium that gave me the ability to go to the games in the evenings. When the recruiter convinced Austin that going pro was a better idea than starting off at the college level, pride bloomed in my chest. It made every sacrifice worth it, even if the price was my loneliness.

“You need to stay focused, Austin. No messing around, no parties, girls, or getting into trouble,” I echoed the advice every coach and recruiter had given us during his high school days.

Despite loving my son for everything that he was, I was well aware of his shortcomings. Being a single, working mom throughout his life meant I wasn’t physically present as much as I should have been. While Austin was strong on the ice, his off-ice behavior was a different story, and explained why the prospect of him living on his own terrified me.

“Mom,” he whined, walking over to the oversized modern kitchen.

“Austin, I’m serious. No girls. Give it a season before you start going out. Don’t use your fake ID.”

“I don’t have one.” He winked at me. We were close, oftentimes too close, which was the downfall of our tight age range.

“Mm-hmm. Sure you don’t.” I rolled my eyes and gave him a little nudge in the side as we leaned over the white marble island. “What’s your plan for tonight?”

“I’m going to wait for the furniture rental company to come and drop everything off. Then a few guys are meeting at Cole’s apartment for a team dinner.”

“Practice tomorrow?” I asked. He nodded.

“And this Cole guy…”

“…Is a good dude, Mom. He’s the captain.” I narrowed my eyes, and he threw his hands in the air. “I swear to God.”

“Okay, okay,” I conceded. “I gotta get to work. I don’t want to be late. But you’d better call me if you need anything.”

“Like if I get scared of the dark and need my mom to save me?”

“Ha ha,” I retorted. “I know you’re trying to be funny, but seriously, it is hard for a mom to leave her baby on his own for the first time.”

“Mom, you left me all the time. You worked graveyard shifts.”

Ugh. I wouldn’t win this battle.

“You know what I mean.”

He leaned down, wrapping me up in a hug.

“I know, Mama. I love you.”

Fuck. Hold it in until you get out of here. Do not crack.

“I love you too, baby.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “Be good. I’ll see you after practice tomorrow.”

Another benefit of living here was that most of the guys carpooled to practice since the majority of them lived in this building. I didn’t have to worry about him figuring out how to drive in the city after living in a small beach town in Michigan for the past eighteen years.

“Bring me sushi?” he asked. Pinching his cheek, I grabbed my jacket. It was September, but there was a chill in the air.

“You got it.”

Because, after all, even though my baby was living on his own and had a seven-figure hockey deal, he would always be my little guy, sniffing his blankets and pooping in his diapers.

After giving him one last hug, I made my way down the hallway to the elevator and rode to the first floor. Forcing a smile and a thanks to the doorman, I put my hood up on my jacket and headed outside. One block down from his apartment, I collapsed onto the hard city concrete and bawled for the first time in a long time.

A piece of my heart had escaped, and an immense surge of both pride and disappointment flooded my chest. My foot was glued to the pavement by what was hopefully a piece of gum, but I didn’t care. I buried my head in my hands and wept. This was worse than leaving him with my mother to go to work when he was a toddler.

For most of my life, everything I did was for him, and suddenly, I was on my own. I was a little like a fish out of water, flailing and desperate to get thrown back in, but no one was there to help me.

“Whoa.” A deep voice broke through my ugly crying moment. “Are you okay?”

When I looked up, my hood covered my eyes. I adjusted my jacket, leaving the hood up to protect my curls from the humidity and avoid having to take another hour-long shower to get them right.

“Oh.” I sniffled, swiping at my under-eyes, hoping I didn’t have mascara everywhere. “This is embarrassing.”

I fumbled to get up from the deep squat I was in, but tears clouded my vision, and my hood got in the way again, so I tripped and fell right onto my ass, and my hands landed on the filthy sidewalk.

“Oh, shit,” the dark voice said as a large hand reached for me. I stared at the massive, calloused fingers outstretched in my direction. I’d gone from looking like a sad idiot to a sad, dumbfounded one in seconds. Why would anyone offer to help me?

“Do I need to call an ambulance? I can lift you if you can’t get up.”

“No.” I brushed my hand along my jacket. “Sorry. Yes, I’m okay,” I mumbled as I pushed myself up, dusting the dirt off my jeans.

“Were you…crying?” asked the stranger, and I turned on my heels to get a better look at the face behind the gigantic hands.

I was suddenly in one of those slow-motion moments. I’d had maybe three of them before today. The first time was when I found out I was pregnant. The second time was when they told me I’d had a boy after being in labor for seventeen hours all alone in a hospital room. The third was when Austin found out he would be in the NHL and was the number one draft pick on the biggest team in Chicago.

This moment marked number four. I literally almost fell back on my ass from the man standing—no, towering—over me. Austin was six-foot-one, and I was much shorter, but this man trumped Austin in height. He was in an oversized Carhartt jacket, and his hair was long and fell over his forehead in a mess. Besides his beard, I couldn’t make out his individual features because his hood covered most of his face. However, the intensity radiating from him was…primal.

“I’m okay,” I repeated once I realized I was gawking. “Thank you for stopping.”

I let out an anxious giggle. “I, uh, am going to go now.”

I bit my lower lip a few times before committing his build to memory one last time.

One day.

I could only imagine what his gigantic hands could do…but, alas, my life had always been about sacrificing for Austin. It had been about my child since I was a kid myself, but maybe one day I’d be able to make it about me.

Not today, but one day.