Page 39 of Shot Through the Heart

“You had no right to interfere like that. You had no right to keepmy daughterfrom me.”

“I am your mother. It is my job to protect you,” she says, some of her usual steel coming back.

“You’re the one I needed protecting from!” I snap. “You knew how much I loved Stella, how much she meant to me. Yet you sent her away and made me believe the worst about her. Worse than that, you made me miss the birth of my child.”

“You would have turned down the scholarship!” She seethes back at me. “Your whole career, your whole life, was all about to happen. I knew if you kept going with that girl you would have let her hold you back. And if you knew she was pregnant? You would have kissed your hockey career goodbye.”

“You don’t know that.” Even as I say it, I know she’s not completely wrong. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have given up hockey completely, but I do know that whatever I did would have been the best decision because I would have had Stella by my side.

However, like Stella told me the other night, there’s no use dwelling on the woulda, coulda, shouldas.

“They were my choices to make, and you stole them all from me. Honestly, I don’t see how I can ever forgive you for that.”

“Greyson William, I did what was best for?—”

“Yourself. You did whatyouthought would work out best for you. The truth is out, so no use denying it now, Mom.” I shake my head, but I can’t find it in me to feel anything but a sense of rightness as I continue. “Your choice didn’t just hurt me, you hurt Stella and let my baby go four years without her dad. I won’t let that happen again. Until I decide otherwise, I suggest you stay silent. No calls, no texts. I will reach out to you when I am ready.”

“I think you’re being a bit too harsh.” My mother cries, but the sound only grates on my nerves.

“Actually, I think I’m being rather nice. This is the part where you get to face the consequences of your actions for once in your life.”

I don’t bother waiting for her response and end the call.

My chest heaves as I play back the conversation. While I managed to keep the yelling to a minimum, going no contact doesn’t lessen the anguish I feel.

The silence in my apartment feels almost deafening and my skin itches to move. I glance at the time, then at my gear bag by the door. If I were to leave now, there’s a chance I could beat anyone else to the rink to snag in some solo laps on the ice to clear my mind.

Dominik is normally the first one of us there, occasionally dragging along Dean or Landon. Before Dom came along, none of the guys even considered showing up a second before we were told to. Now it’s very rare to get time alone on a game day.

But it’s early enough now that I should manage at least an hour by myself.

With my mind made up, I snatch my keys and wallet from the counter and head out.

Once I park, I slip my earbuds in and blast my favorite rock band while I make my way inside, hoping security or any lingering staff will take the hint and give me space. Not that anyone usually bugs me. That’s part of the reason I even have the contract with Stella.

Which is something we’ll have to figure out how to end early, even if that means I have to buy out the rest of the contract. There’s no way I’m going to be able to keep things professional now.

No one stops me as I head into the locker room to get changed into my gear and skates. Even with the volume of my earbuds dangerously loud, it does nothing to stop my mind from wandering as I rush through the motions. It’s impossible not to think about Stella and Harper. The strength it took for Stella to do everything as a single mom blows my mind, regardless of the fact that I wish she hadn’t. Then I keep wondering what Harper will think of me, or if she’ll even like me at all.

Yeah, I definitely need to stop thinking.

It isn’t until I’ve finished tightening my laces and finally take my earbuds out that I realize my hope for solo skate time is a bust.

The music blasting in the arena vibrates through the tunnel as I head toward the rink. It would be wishful thinking to let myself believe it’s just an early sound check. Although that would have been preferable to what I do find.

Carter and Reid, two of the forwards on my line, are sitting on the half-wall cracking up while recording the scene before us on their phones.

Dominik, Landon, and Dean are all on the ice, jumping on their skates and doing a modified version of the “Cotton Eye Joe.” Landon falls behind, struggling to keep up with the beat. Dean adds his hockey stick to the mix, tapping it on the ice with each foot and screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs. Dominik looks like he’s barely breaking a sweat and smoothly does the line dance on skates.

“What the hell,” I grumble just as Dean spots me from over Carter’s shoulder.

“Grey! Perfect timing. We have a running challenge to see who can do the ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ the best on skates.” Even as he talks, he continues to move.

I shake my head, trudging past the two watching from the sidelines.

“Aww, come on.”

“I’m not here to dance,” I say, trying to keep the bite out of my words, but the way Dean’s expression falls tells me I failed. He’s very much like a golden retriever puppy. Energetic, fast, and a little shaggy. He teases and jokes around the majority of the time, but he’s one of the most caring guys on the team. Hurting his feelings feels the same as accidentally stepping on a dog’s tail.

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