Page 77 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

“I thinkIdo.” A series of flashes go off, and we both turn to see a photographer snapping our picture. “Shit!” Bobby bites out, turning so his back is to the guy.

“Bobby, I think you need to go.” I gesture behind him. “Your team is taking the ice.” I don’t want him getting into trouble with the coach on top of this awful conversation.

He gives me a hard look, one that shows all his conflicted feelings. And I want to pull him in and kiss him. Make it all better. But that won’t work. Instead, I let him go and wander the stands until I find an inconspicuous spot from which to watch the game.

It’s evident from the second Bobby’s skates hit the ice in the first period that he’s on edge. He’s hogging the puck and misses every time he shoots for the goal. The coach is going hoarse yelling at him and then lecturing him when he hits the bench. In the second period, he gets two penalties and spends more time in the penalty box than on the ice. By the third period, I can’t stand it any longer. I leave when Bobby trips his own teammate, Pete Fornier, and the Gold Rush steal the puck to score. The tension in the arena is palpable, and I can’t help feeling like it’s all my fault.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off for the next week.” Coco stands with her arms crossed beside my office chair the next morning.

“I’m just grabbing a few things, I promise, boss.” I rifle through my top drawer for a flash drive I need in case clients reach out over the holiday. Just as my fingers close around it, my cell phone vibrates on top of the desk. “Don’t answer it!” I yell.

Coco pulls her head back and stares at me like I just spontaneously morphed into a dragon right before her eyes and might barbecue her. “Are you okay, darling?”

I shake my head. “Sorry. Just a bit jumpy.” I muster a forced smile as I grab my phone to shove it back in my bag. But that’s when I see it’s Matty’s school calling, not Bobby or my parents again. Shit! To think that we almost made it to Christmas break without more drama.

“Hello, this is Molly Sparks,” I answer, immediately pulling my lip between my teeth to gnaw on it.

“Ms. Sparks, this is Vice Principal Finley.”

“Is there a problem with Matthew?” I get straight to the point.

He pauses, making me wonder exactly how bad it is that the man can’t speak. Finally, he says, “In a manner of speaking. Are you available to come to school?”

Crap, crap, crap!

“Of course.” I check my watch. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll see you when you get here. Just come straight to the office.”

I hang up and hike my bag up onto my shoulder. “Damn!” I turn to Coco. “Sorry, Coco, I have to run. It’s Matty’s school.”

“Oh dear,” she responds. “Good luck.” When I thank her and book it to the back door, she calls out behind me, “Text me later so I know everything is okay!”

I make it to the school in record time, pulling into a parking spot just as the buses are lining up to take kids home from the half-day before break. This is so not how I wanted to start the holidays. It’s bad enough that I have to break it to Matty that Bobby won’t be around for Christmas. Now I might have to ground him too. Merry freaking Christmas.

When I go through security and then step up to the front desk and give my name, the woman behind the desk gasps. At first, I think maybe someone famous just walked in behind me, but I quickly realize her attention is focused only on me.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims, her salt and pepper curls bouncing around her face. “You’re Molly Sparks.”

“Um...yes.” I did just introduce myself, so I’m entirely unclear why this news is so noteworthy.

“I was just reading about you and that hot young hockey player of yours! Lemme grab it.” She digs around in her purse while the blood drains from my face.

“Oh! No need!” I try. “I’m just here to see Vice Principal Finley.”

But she’s entirely undeterred, practically squealing as she unearths the device and swipes her finger over the screen before turning it my way. And right there in vivid color is a shot of Bobby and me from last night’s game, deep in conversation and oblivious to prying eyes.

She turns the screen back to examine it herself with an almost hungry expression. “What I wouldn’t give for a fling with some young stud like Roadie.” She lifts her eyes to me. “We might have a few more miles on us, but even us older women have needs, am I right?”

It takes everything I have not to turn around and flee. But I must be on God’s rotation today because the vice principal chooses that moment to stick his head out of his office. “Molly?”

“Yes!” I practically shout and then stride toward him in case he was thinking of coming out for some small talk with me and the young-hockey-stud enthusiast.

“Enjoy yourself for the rest of us!” the woman calls behind me as I step into his office. Dear god.

“Hey, Mom.”

My head whips around. Matty leans against the far wall of the office. But instead of a worried or guilty expression, my son is wearing a devilish grin.

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