Page 94 of Play Book

“I guess that’s what I need to do,” I say, “but I don’t know what to say. I mean, the internet exists, and Carly’s arrest history and overdose is public record. The information is out there. I can’t tell other kids’ parents what they can and can’t look at online.”

“No, but you can have a very stern heart-to-heart with the parents of the kid whose house it was,” Gabe says. “Parents are responsible for the shit their kids do. They don’t get a pass simply because the information is out there. There has to be some accountability.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” I’ve already been thinking about calling Rhea’s mom.

“This isn’t even your kid?” One of my teammates, Philippe Lilleberg, shakes his head. “Why would you take on that kind of responsibility? Most people don’t like their own kids, much less someone else’s.”

“Speak for yourself,” Marty mutters. “I love my kids.”

“Yeah, because you’re not the one in charge. You’re off playing hockey while your wife takes care of them. You’d feel different if you were in charge twenty-four seven.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Gabe asks him. “You don’t have kids.”

“No, but I see it all the time. No one likes being a full-time parent. Why do you think athletes have such a high divorce rate? The wives are exhausted handling it on their own.

I close my locker and grab my bag. “Well, Ally doesn’t have anyone else, so whether I like it or not, she’s my responsibility now.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Marty says, following me toward the players’ parking lot. “I love my kids. They’re awesome. Sure, it’s a lot of work sometimes, but I don’t feel like it’s a bad thing. We wouldn’t have had three if we didn’t want them.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it. You did want them. You had them on purpose. Ally technically isn’t my kid.” I feel a wave of guilt saying those words out loud.

“Are you thinking of putting her in foster care?”

Am I?

No.

That’s not going to happen.

“As much as part of me wants to say yes, the answer is no. I can’t do that to her. She’s had a tough enough life without me giving up on her too, you know?”

“I’m glad you’re stepping up to the plate,” Marty replies. “Honestly, I would’ve offered to take her if my marriage wasn’t on the rocks. Brenna and I wanted a big family.” He pauses. “At least, I thought we did. I feel like I don’t know her anymore.”

“Therapy isn’t helping?”

His eyes darken. “No. We haven’t had sex in…months.”

I grimace. “Is that…normal?”

“Not really. I guess it’s a little normal, with three under five in the house, but not three months.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to bring it up in our next therapy session.”

“What happens if you separate? Will she leave L.A.?”

He grunts. “And take my kids? Not a chance in hell. I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep my kids here.”

“Would a judge rule in your favor?”

“I’m not the one who wants to leave. I don’t hit her, I’ve never cheated, I provide a good life for them—I shouldn’t be the one who’s punished.”

“I don’t know if any of that counts in a divorce, though.”

“You say it like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

“I apologize.” I realize that’s how it sounds. “It just sounds like…well, to be honest, from the outside looking in, it seems like she’s checked out of your marriage. And I hate that for you because I know you love her.”

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