Page 93 of The Only Goal

I tried to calm him, quietly panicking that he’d mention Baxter’s name in front of Hudson, but by some miracle, that didn’t happen. In the end, Hudson stepped in and promised to take him to the ice rink once we got back to Chesterfield. This calmed him a little, but as soon as we were alone in my car and we hit the road, Kai’s tears started up all over again. He blubbered three names on repeat—Fezzik, Casey, Baxter—and cried himself to sleep.

We stopped twice on the way back. Kai didn’t say a word during lunch or dinner. He sat there quietly nibbling his food while I tried to make polite conversation with my husband. He seemed happy and relaxed, his smile growing a mile wide when he noticed I was wearing my rings again. He took my hand, brushing his thumb over the diamond he bought me last year to replace the tiny speck he’d given me in high school. He gazed at me across the table, obviously hoping for some kind of gushy smile, but I couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d have to be completely blind not to notice how tense I was, but he acted as if everything was cool and we were a happy family heading home from a road trip.

Happy family.

Shit. I need to get that into my head, right? If I want to avoid some ugly custody battle and give Kai the best chance of a smooth, stress-less upbringing, then I’m going to have to find my happy somehow.

As we drive back into Chesterfield and hit the familiar suburban streets, I honestly don’t know how I’m going to do it. But then I glance into the rearview mirror and spot my son’s sweet face, and I know I have to try.

Kai is still asleep when I pull into our driveway. It’s nearly one in the morning, and I feel physically sick as I unload my son and carry him up to bed. I’m exhausted after the eleven-and-a-half-hour drive. I can only imagine how spent Hudson must be, but he seems to be running on adrenaline as he leads us inside, being the ever-attentive husband and father, paving the way so I can easily walk Kai to his room.

Settling him under the covers, I brush his hair back and kiss his forehead, inhaling his sweet scent and reminding myself why I’m doing this. He needs stability. He thrives on routine. Raising him here is a better choice, right?

It’s like I’m working overtime to convince myself of that.

Rubbing my arms, I try to ward off the chill seeping through me as I walk to my bedroom.

My veins are running with pure ice as I step back into the familiar room with the king-sized bed and the waffle duvet I picked out. Everything in this house was carefully chosen by me. The furniture all matches, the large pillows on the bed, the comforter draped across the armchair. This house has my stamp all over it.

“You cold, honey?” Hudson asks from his side of the bed. He’s taking off his watch and unbuttoning his cuffs.

I shrug, my throat feeling rusty when I try to speak. “Just tired.”

“Why don’t you jump in the shower to warm up, and then you can get some rest. I’ll keep an ear out for Kai in case he wakes.”

I stare across the room at him and finally nod. I’m feeling robotic and lifeless.

Shouldn’t I be happier?

I’ve made the best decision for my son, so you’d think I’d feel some sense of relief, but as I step into my bathroom, I’m frozen all over again. All I can do is stare at the shower and picture my naked husband in there, his ass cheeks squished against the glass as he took some nameless woman against the wall.

My throat burns as I snatch a towel off the railing and walk out of our en suite.

“Where are you going?” Hudson calls to my back.

I pause at the door and mutter, “I can’t shower in there. I’m going to use Kai’s bathroom.”

Not bothering to look back, I walk into the main bathroom and take my sweet time in the shower. Exhaustion is tugging at me from every angle, but I stay beneath that hot spray, the glass steaming up around me as I rest my head on the wall and weep beneath the water. I don’t even wash myself; I just soak until I’m completely empty.

I do a useless job of drying myself, missing a huge section on my back and forgetting all about my hair. Droplets run down my body, catching in the towel I’ve wrapped tightly around me. When I pad back into the master bedroom and see Hudson reading off his iPad in bed, my stomach starts roiling all over again.

He glances up at me, smiling like he always does.

It’s all so familiar, yet it somehow feels wrong. I’m a stranger in my own home.

Hudson’s still looking at me while I hover in the doorway, stuck once again. Frozen and numb as I try to get my brain to work properly.

“I put toothpaste on your toothbrush for you.” The side of his mouth tips up.

It’s been something we’ve been doing for each other ever since we got married. Because I’m always going to bed before him, I prepare his toothbrush and it sits by the sink until he sneaks in the door after work and gets ready for bed.

I’m usually up and reading, waiting for him to get home, and the role reversal is throwing me.

When I still don’t move, he lets out another heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I tainted the shower for you. We’re gonna get through this, and you can use your en suite again. I promise.”

My throat hurts when I swallow.

“I’m gonna find us a counselor tomorrow, and we can?—”

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