Page 64 of Scoring Grey

Her eyes meet mine, and I see her sadness. Hearing the hurt in our son’s voice is never easy, no matter what put it there, but it makes it harder now, knowing that we’re working on giving him the future he’s always wanted, and he had to see that.

“I’m sorry you saw that photo, buddy,” Eloise sympathizes.

I join her on the bed. “That picture wasn’t what it looked like, champ. You know how sometimes the news says things that aren’t so nice about Grandma Beck?”

While Eloise has done a phenomenal job keeping him away from prying eyes, he knows who his grandparents are. Ada Beck, Eloise’s mom, has no problem with the limelight, and because of that, she gets the good, bad, and ugly. But we’ve raised him to know what the truth looks like. He nods.

“That happens to me too, champ. But we’ve handled it, and there aren’t going to be any more pictures like that.” I bump Eloise’s shoulder. “Unless it’s me and Mom. Your mom is the only girl I love, Adler.” I know the word I just said, and it’s one I’ve used indirectly. I’ve admitted I love her; she read the words written in my journal, but I’ve yet to say them directly to her. No time has felt monumental enough to carry their weight. When I said it, I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted her to know I meant it with every ounce of my being, but I realize now no time will be perfect. They can only be perfect after the words are said. Saying them aloud for the first time with our son as witness feels right. This right here is my whole heart. Her eyes find mine, and she holds them, witnessing the depth of my confession.

“I’ve loved her since the first day I met her, and I’ll love her until the day I die.” Every single day, before I even knew her name, I loved her. I prayed for her and all that I have now. All the years of heartache were worth it to watch her pretty lips part and her free hand cover her chest as my words leave their mark on her heart.

“Did you hear that, Mom? Did you, did you? Dad says he loves you.”

She turns back to him. “Yeah, buddy. I heard him.”

“So you don’t have to cry anymore.”

She clears her throat. “Adler, buddy, what are you talking about?”

Yeah, champ, what are you talking about?I knew Eloise cried when we were younger. I listened and let my heart break right alongside hers, but I didn’t think she was still crying.

He looks away from the phone. “I hear you sometimes at night after you tuck me in. When I can’t fall asleep, I’ll sneak out of my room and sit at the top of the staircase and watch whatever show you have on TV, and sometimes you cry, but the show isn’t sad. You’re sad. Now you don’t have to be sad.”

She’s quiet, and I know it’s because she’s at a loss for words. That revelation is the last one she wanted me to hear.

“Adler,” Eloise’s dad calls. “Dinner is ready. Come get it before it’s cold.”

“Be right there, Grandpa,” he yells back.

“I gotta go.” His face drops, but only a little before he says, “Dad, I almost forgot that call they made against you for cross-checking LaRoi was crap. The refs had it out for you. They’re mad you played like a beast.”

“I deserved that suspension, champ. The puck was frozen, and I pushed back after the whistle was blown. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t intend to hit him in the neck. I’m responsible for my stick,” I remind him. Granted, given the night, the score, and the teams, some infractions are overlooked or missed altogether. However, I knew what I was doing. I was hoping for a suspension. In hockey, a suspended player can’t be in the arena during a game if a suspension is handed down, and while I may not have responded to Eloise’s texts, I read them. I wanted time with my girl, and now I have it.

Eloise looks at me with wide eyes. “You got suspended? How many games?”

“Just one. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, tell Coach Beck if he’s mad to call me. You scored a hat trick and then got thrown out. It’s sus.”

“Remind me again what sus means?”

“Suspicious,” Eloise and Adler say in unison as though its meaning is blatantly obvious.

“Okay, I got to go. Love you, Mom, love you, Dad.” Adler hurries with a wave. “Grandpa made his five-cheese macaroni, and I don’t like it when it gets cold.”

“Bye, buddy, I love you,” Eloise says.

“Bye, champ,” I tag on.

We sit in silence after the call ends. I hate knowing that Adler had to see that picture, and while he’s young, he’s wise beyond his years. My little guy has been the man of the house, taking care of his mom the way I’ve wanted to, and while I know he’s aware his mother has always had my heart, I’m sure he’s upset that picture was released. I can’t help but feel like I failed him. I’m supposed to protect him and his mother, and that picture casts doubt; for that, Blair will pay. Eloise places the phone on the bedside table, and I consider bringing up the love comment, but I know it caught her off guard, and I don’t want to put her in a position where she feels like she needs to say it back. I only ever want to hear those words if she means them.

“I want to show you something,” I say, nudging her knee with mine. She turns to me with a soft smile and nods. I reach under the bed and pull out my playbook.

“Do you hide that somewhere new every day?” I furrow my brow, confused by her comment. “You’re always pulling that out of a different spot.”

My eyebrows rise as a realization sets in. “I guess it’s an old habit. This journal contains my thoughts, so I never kept it in one place. Nothing in my house was safe from my father’s prying eyes, but this playbook was usually tucked in my hockey bag or stacked with my schoolbooks, and for that reason, he never opened it.” I open the book and turn to the page I want her to read. Saving it with my finger, I say, “We have so much to talk about, but starting here feels right. Maybe after you read this, you’ll see we were never as far apart as you thought.”

The last thing I want is for her to feel guilt over a choice she made six years ago. There’s no taking it back, but I hope that when she reads the words I wrote, she’ll know I meant it when I said I chose her, but more than that: I chose me.

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