Page 20 of Drawn to You

If only I could have told her not to feel guilty over working two jobs from the time I was in fourth grade until I finished high school. My dad took off and left her as a single mom, and she did whatever it took to care for me, even though it left her very little time for herself.

I didn’t get it as a child. Why she couldn’t be at my dance recitals. Why we never took vacations. I get it now, and I admire my mom’s resilience.

Dane walks out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a white towel wrapped around his waist. I force myself not to look because I don’t want to get busted again.

“You need the bathroom?” he asks.

“Yes.”

I gather my toiletries and clean clothes, trying to erase the mental image of the last time I saw my mom. The nurse told me seeing her body would give me closure, but it also gave me nightmares.

“I’m going down for breakfast,” Dane says. “Are you coming to the morning skate?”

“Might as well.”

“Bus leaves in thirty minutes.”

I walk past him and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I press my back to the door and close my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks.

The flight to Boston was a little better than the Tampa flight, but I still threw up once and felt sick for most of it. We got to our hotel around four a.m., making the seven a.m. wake-up time feel downright offensive.

And now we get to do it all over again. After tonight’s game, we’ll fly to Seattle. I have to perk up because it’s going to be a long day. Hopefully coffee and concealer will get me through.

I take a quick shower, dry my hair, put on light makeup and dress in black leggings, a maroon cami, a gray cardigan sweater and black flats.

I’m taking part in a Zoom meeting with everyone at my office later this morning, and this is as professional as I can look while living out of a backpack.

After packing my things, I walk down to the hotel dining room, where most of the team and staff are eating breakfast.

Dane is sitting at a table with two other players and I take the remaining seat. He’s signing something for a little boy who’s smiling at him like he’s the greatest thing ever.

“Marco,” the boy says.

“Marco, what position do you play?” Dane asks as he writes on a piece of paper.

“Defense and sometimes goalie,” Marco says.

“Awesome. Keep your grades up, okay? And listen to your parents; they know what they’re talking about.”

Marco nods and a man waiting nearby asks if he can take a photo. Dane stands up and stands next to Marco, smiling for several photos.

“I guess we look like his assistants,” Aiden mutters when Dane sits back down.

Dane grins. “Hey, if you want kids to ask for your autograph, try to suck less.”

Aiden scoffs and glances at me. “Feeling any better, Josie?”

“Better than last night,” I say. “Thanks.”

I look at Dane, who has half a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, the other half of the plate loaded with bacon, sausage and fruit. “Did you ask the housekeeper how Mr. Darcy’s doing?”

Dane shrugs. “He’s alive.”

I glare at him across the table. “Is he eating? Does he seem anxious?”

“How’s my housekeeper supposed to know if your cat is anxious?” He scoops a forkful of eggs into his mouth, sounding completely uninterested.

“I told you what to ask her, and instead, you asked if he’s alive.” I shake my head.

---