Page 6 of King

“What are you doing?” Brittany asks out of the side of her mouth.

“Winging it,” I mutter and then smile brightly when they race back again. “Okay… let’s divide into groups and we’re going to just work on some skating basics today.”

Luckily, practice is only supposed to be thirty minutes long as the rink is promised to another peewee group, and with the time already spent with Coach Peters trying to get the kids undercontrol, I barely have them for a full fifteen minutes. I’m able to instruct them adequately in basic skating skills from the edge of the boards, and at the end of that fifteen minutes, I’m exhausted from trying to wrangle the nine of them.

After saying goodbye to the parents, who are more than grateful and appreciative, I spend five minutes with Mr. Carlan to go over the practice and game schedule. Luckily, they only practice once a week and have one game a week, always on Saturday mornings, so it won’t be that big of a hardship for me. Of course, the first game is this Saturday, but Mr. Carlan seemed completely nonplussed that I didn’t know what I was doing, nor that we only have one practice under our belt, nor that I’m not even sure the kids know the basic rules as I sure as hell don’t.

“Relax,” he said with a pat on my shoulder. “The rules are online and the games are a free-for-all. It’s a bunch of little kids skating after the puck and falling down a lot.”

That actually reassures me some, but still… I’m a tiny bit irritated that Brittany roped me into this. But when Izzy flings her arms around my legs as I step outside of the rink to where they were waiting for me, the overwhelming love I have for this kid chases away all the negative feelings. I’d always wanted to have children, but Izzy is the closest I’m getting to that dream right now, so I bask in her love and gratitude.

And if I’m honest, I’ll admit I actually enjoyed the challenge. The kids’ energy was infectious, and their enthusiasm made up for my lack of experience. In all, I feel accomplished.

“We survived,” Brittany says as we walk toward my car. I cut a sharp glare at her, and she amends, “You survived.”

I can’t help but laugh. “It wasn’t all that bad and with only one practice and one game a week, I can work my schedule around it. But you owe me big-time.”

“I absolutely owe you,” she says, looping her arm through mine with Izzy holding on to her other hand. “You’re the best sister ever.”

“Yes, I am,” I say with authority. “How about we go get burgers?”

“Yes,” Izzy exclaims as I unlink my arm from Britt’s and move to the driver’s door. Just as I’m unlocking my car, my phone rings.

I reach into my purse, put it to my ear and connect with a sassy “Talk to me,” thinking it’s most likely someone from my office. That’s who I get the most calls from, as I don’t have any friends in the area. All my friends were my ex-husband’s, and well… he’s an ex.

I cringe when I hear Scott’s voice.

The ex.

“I want to talk about the alimony payments.”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” I say, my eyes catching my sister’s over the top of the car. She can tell by my tone and pointed look that I don’t want Izzy to hear any of this, so she helps her get into the back before sliding in the front passenger seat.

He ignores my refusal. “I need a break on the payments. I’m in a bind right now.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. I want to scream at him that he’s an idiot and there’s no way he can be in a bind. He’s a goddamned orthopedic surgeon who doesn’t have a dime of debt because we paid his medical school loans off first. I’m guessing his secret penchant for gambling and a mistress with expensive tastes has him in quite the pickle.

I take a deep breath and am proud of how calm my voice is. “The court ordered the payments, Scott. I have nothing to do with them.”

“Yes, but if I miss them, you’re the one who would notify the court, causing them to garnish my wages or some shit like that. I’m asking you to let me skip a few payments and not say anything to the court.”

“And why would I do that?” I ask, my tone rising just a bit. “You’re the one who cheated on me and disgraced our marital vows. I’m the one left with all the debt because I helped to pay off your loans. The court thought the alimony was fair and so do I. It’s the least you could do for me.”

“Jesus, you’re a bitch. I don’t—”

I disconnect the call. I don’t have to listen to his abuse anymore. He immediately dials back, the ringtone triggering my anxiety. If I were to answer it, he’d scream at me. This will be followed by short bursts of foul texts where I’ll be called every name in the book. Then he’ll leave a voicemail or two bemoaning his lot in life and how I never gave him a fair chance. By tomorrow, I’ll get an apology in the form of a call or a text and the cycle starts all over again.

But the greatest thing about being divorced from that man is that I can now choose not to listen to it. I don’t have to go home to an environment where I walk on eggshells all the time and wait for the other shoe to drop. It was the same way I felt growing up, never knowing what might set my dad off, although usually with him, alcohol was involved. With Scott, he’s just a straight-up asshole.

“You’re a piece of work,” I mutter under my breath, berating myself for at least the millionth time for marrying a man so similar to my abusive father.

But that pattern has been broken for good, a symbolic event when those divorce papers were finalized. Now I’m free of a bad marriage, a dissatisfying relationship, and I’m never going back to that place again.

I open the door and slide in. Brittany grips my hand, her look silently asking if everything is okay. She knows what I went through with Scott. She went through the same with our father, and then with Izzy’s father.

The Montreaux women sure know how to pick ’em.

CHAPTER 3

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