Page 87 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Molly

“Hey, Dollface.”

I jump in my chair with a surprised yelp, spilling coffee down the front of my fleece robe. “Holy crap, Blake. You scared me.”

“Hey, Mom,” Matty pops out from behind his dad, handing me a wad of paper towels.

“What are you guys doing here?” I take them from him and start blotting the front of my robe. Matty is supposed to be staying with Blake until school starts back up again next week. “I might have to confiscate everyone’s keys to avoid third-degree burns.”

“Sorry about that,” Blake says, resting a hand on Matty’s head. “The spawn forgot his headphones.”

Matty steps toward the hall but stops at the last second and turns to me, giving me a quick hug before rocketing off again.

I watch him go and turn to Blake. “A hug? What did you do to him?”

“Let’s just say we had a long heart-to-heart last night, and he’s working on some feelings.”

My chest tightens. “Is everything okay?” I gesture for my ex to sit down while I grab another mug from the cabinet and fill it with hot coffee.

“Yeah.” He pauses, extending his long legs under the table. “I think it will be, that is.”

I hand him the fresh mug and slide back into my chair across from him. “That sounds cryptic. What happened?”

But instead of answering, Blake studies me for a minute and runs a hand through his hair before asking, “You and Bobby still taking a break?”

“Can we not talk about that? I’d rather talk about our son.” It’s been damn near impossible to keep the man out of my head as it is. My insomnia has gotten even worse because of all the intrusive thoughts. I finally decided at four-thirty this morning that I might need to get a cat after all. Allergies be damned, I need someone to keep me company in bed.

Blake lets out a long exhale and ignores my wishes entirely. “You know, I think I judged Bobby without getting to know him. I saw his age and his social status and made assumptions about him. About you and him. About his influence on Matty. A lot of things.”

I give up on salvaging my robe and drop the paper towels to the table. “Blake, I’m happy you’re on a journey of self-discovery and all, but what does this have to do with Matty?”

He doesn’t appear to hear me. “You know, you spend a lot more time and energy making sure everyone else is okay than making sureyou’reokay.”

I shrug because that pretty much describes every mom I know.

“Even with our divorce, you were more concerned about me and Matty, and I let that happen. I was selfish.” He spins his coffee mug on the table in front of him, eyes trained on the movement.

“Blake, you didn’t wake up one day and decide to be gay,” I remind him.

“No, but I made it all about me—and Matty, to some extent. I didn’t focus enough on how it must have felt foryou. I knew it hurt you, but looking back, I think I was more worried about you being mad at me than you being genuinely okay.” He meets my eyes again. “I’m really sorry, Molly.”

I reach out to lay my hand over one of his. “It’s been hard on everyone. And it was a huge struggle for you, so don’t downplay it.”

“Right back atcha, Dollface.” He flips our hands over so he’s holding mine now. “Don’t downplay how it all affected you either, especially considering the number your parents did on you. You spend your life waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I was supposed to keep that from happening. Then I basically smacked you in the face with the damn shoe!”

Since he did not, in fact, hit me in the face with any shoe, metaphorical or otherwise, I move to protest. But he holds his free hand up. “I know I didn’tchooseto be gay, and I didn’t take the whole thing lightly, but deep down I knew, even when I asked you to marry me, I think. And that’s on me.”

“Blake, I don’t regret our years together. You’re my best friend. And you gave me Matty.”

“I don’t regret it either, but I do regret that I hurt you and made it even harder for you to trust yourself and other people.”

I shrug again because...that’s life. “I’m just wired to be wary, I guess.”

“Yeah. About that...” He gently disentangles our hands and brings his mug to his lips for a sip.

“What?”

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