Page 79 of Power Play

Damnit, I hate this. I hate that I can’t talk to her whenever I think of something I want to tell her about. That I can’t pick up Rory from daycare and sneak a kiss from Sawyer. Or our late-night talks after I’d tuck Rory into bed. When we would stay up late talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, I miss sneaking her ice cream when I would pick Rory up from daycare, all because I loved seeing that look in her eyes. I’ve never seen anyone so animated with excitement over ice cream, but I loved seeing it.

But most of all? I miss having Sawyer on my team. It felt like I’d known her my whole life, not just a couple of months, and that alone scared the shit out of me. But we fit together so well that now it feels like a piece of me is missing. To make matters worse, I could tell she truly cared about Rory and me. She was the first person I let into our lives, and she was there for us, rooting us on. I liked it, and it fucking sucks that it’s gone.

But she made her choice. And how could I blame her? She’s spent so long handling her life on her own that if her brother wants to try to be in her life, what kind of person would I be if I stood in the way of that?

I think it just pisses me off that she made the choice for me. When her brother told me it was her or him on the team, I wanted to tell him to fuck off and not play if that’s how he felt. But if I know Sawyer, I think she was scared I would choose her and resent her for not following my dreams. What this woman doesn’t realize is that following my heart leads me directly to her.

Every. Single. Time.

Regardless of everything that’s happened between me and her, I’m on my way to meet with my mom to propose an idea about one of their vacant buildings in the city. We may not be together, but that doesn’t mean her dreams don’t matter to me.

By the time I make it to the little café she picked, I’m happy to see she’s already at her usual table.

“Hi, honey, it’s so good to see you,” my mom says, leaning up to kiss my cheek as I lean down to give her a hug. She’s dressed up, far more than this place requires, telling me she probably came straight from work. For someone who’s supposed to be retired, she’s as busy as I am.

“It’s good to see you too, mama. Thanks for coming to meet me. I know you’ve been really busy lately.”

Sitting down, I realize just how long it’s been since we’ve done this, just the two of us. It’s always either the whole family or Rory is with us. As much as I look forward to those days, even as a grown man, sometimes it’s nice to get some one-on-one time with your mom.

“So, I ordered us some appetizers. I know you’re pretty much always hungry. They should be here soon,” my mom says with a smile, but her eyes give her away. She’s already homed in on the fact that something’s off.

There’s something about moms that, even as a grown ass adult, they have this way of pulling information out of you, regardless of whether you want to talk about it. It’s ridiculous. The woman is like a damn leech, but it’s all out of love. That’s why her spidey senses must be going off, or whatever bullshit power she has to pull this shit.

I want to be mad, but it’s fucking impressive.

“Spill,” my mother all but demands. “Son, I know you like the back of my hand, and I know something’s different—off—I can tell you’re down, so start talking.”

“I don’t want to,” I grumble, knowing damn well there’s no chance she’s letting that slide.

“Rex Michael, start talking, or I’ll just call Stella. We both know that girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. So just tell me what happened.”

I shiver at the thought of everything she’d find out with that one phone call. Stella does actually know what happened and is currently pissed at me for “letting Sawyer make this choice.” She’s been trying to convince me that it’s obvious it’s not what she wanted, that she was doing it for me. I’m having a hard time believing her or even finding it in me to care. Moral of the story is: she’s gone.

“I don’t even know where to begin, mom,” I tell her quietly. Sitting up, I run my fingers through my hair before looking her in the eye. “It’s a long fucking story.”

“Start at the beginning. I’ve got all afternoon,” my mom says as she grabs the attention of our server walking by.

“Can we get a bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Lockwood. I’ll have that right out,” he says politely before heading towards the bar.

Fifteen minutes later, I’ve told her the story of how we met, how we stopped talking, and then started dating, only to have it blow up in my face. Basically, I told her the story from start to finish, minus the things no mom wants to hear about their kids. She sat quietly through the whole story, casually sipping her wine while I spilled my heart out. Once I finished talking, she just watched me, probably leeching more information out of me somehow—things I’m not even aware of.

“Are you stupid?” are the first words out of her mouth. In fact, they’re the only words out of her mouth as she sits and stares at me with a look of pure bewilderment.

“What? What the heck, ma? Did you listen to anything I said?”

“Yes, I did. Every single word. Are you really so dense that you can’t see how much that woman loves you? It’s fucking clear as day, and it seems like you’re being too fucking stubborn to fight for her.”

If anyone else said any of that to me, I would probably be pissed, but hockey moms are built different. They drive a bunch of boys around, listen to us shit talk and get in fights on the ice, so they learn to fucking dish it. And my mom? She’s perfected it.

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t do any of this! She broke up with me, all because her brother decided he wanted to be a dick. Do I want to coach in the NHL? I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I don’t have plenty of time. If he wants to throw his dream away because he’s throwing a bitch fit, I say, let him,” I shoot back, frustrated that she’s trying to turn this on me.

“She broke up with you because she knows you. She knows your past—about everything with hockey and Rory—and if she loves you like I think she does, then she would want to make sure nothing else got in your way, including her.”

“She’s too smart of a girl to do something as fucking stupid as that.”

“Love makes people stupid, son.”

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