Page 27 of Need You to Choose Me

“Did something happen?”

She clears her throat. “There was an incident,” she says softly. “Unfortunately, visiting hours this week will be cancelledfor her until we can get her on the right medication. I’ll let you know when you can come see her.”

Closing my eyes, I pinch my nose. I’d cleared my schedule already, but what was I going to do? I knew Mom needed help, and me forcing my way in when she wasn’t in the right state of mind wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Alex. We’ll get it right, but it takes time. Some medications take months to figure out if it works or not. The last one we tried was too hard on her kidneys. We’re close, though. I can feel it.”

Teeth grinding, I murmur, “And the therapy sessions? Has she been talking?”

Her sigh is light. “Unfortunately, she’s still closed off during them. We’ve found that it helps when family comes with them. Perhaps the next time you come we can schedule you for that. Maybe she’ll speak more openly knowing someone is there who she trusts.”

I’m not the one who needs it, so it’s on the tip of my tongue to say no. But if it helps Mom… “I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

“Of course. I know none of this is easy.”

Wetting my lips, I nod to myself. “Just help her. Please.”

“We will,” she promises before I disconnect the call.

I don’t realize anybody is behind me until Clarkson bumps my arm. “You good?”

I stand a little taller, trying to feign nonchalance. But something tells me the captain can see right through it. And God only knows what he heard. “Better than ever. In fact, I think I might take some time off to visit old friends.”

Clarkson scratches the side of his cheek, above the long scar stretching across the right side of it. He got a blade to the face during his first year in the NHL that almost took out his eye.I always thought it made him look intimidating, but that’s not who he is at all.

He’s not a big talker, but he asks, “You sure everything is all right? I don’t know what that was about, but it sounded serious.”

I glance at my phone, which is white knuckled in my grip. “From what I saw in there, you might want to worry about yourself, Cap.”

It’s a dick thing to say, but I don’t want to spill my guts to him or anybody else.

Patting his shoulder, I walk out to the street where my car is parked along the curb.

Clarkson doesn’t try stopping me.

*

The dilapidated single-storyranch used to look picturesque once. But now the sky-blue siding is chipped and rotting, some of the black shutters have fallen off, and the flower boxes that used to hold colorful plants only have dirt, dead bugs, and fallen leaves in them.

Gripping my steering wheel one last time, I kill the car and get out. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and the last time certainly didn’t add any happy memories when I tricked my mother into getting into the car with me to go to Logan’s. But it was rare that there were good moments at this place anyway.

Using one of the spare keys on my chain, I unlock the door and cringe at the loud squeal of the hinges as I push it open. It smells musty despite hiring somebody to come do a thorough cleaning after Mom was admitted. I make a mental note to get somebody here to check on the place every so often. Maybe spray an air freshener inside every month.

I walk into the living room and fight the frown as my eyes settle on the faded reddish-orange stain on the carpet beside the coffee table.

“You need to eat something,” I tell the woman whose been plastered to the couch for two days straight. Setting the bowl of tomato soup down onto the table, I say, “Come on, Mom. I made your favorite.”

She eyes the bowl with a frown, then rolls onto her other side and pulls the blanket further up her body. “I’m not hungry.”

I swipe my hand down my face and glance at the time on my watch. I’m going to be late for practice. Again. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, and you only ate half a piece of toast. You need to eat something else.”

Suddenly, her hand darts out and smacks into the bowl of hot liquid, sending it flying off the table. I stare at the splattered mess on my shoes, jeans, and the floor knowing it’s not going to clean easily. “I said I’m not fucking hungry! Why won’t you listen to me? You and him never listen to me!” she yells, grabbing the tissue box and throwing that at me too.

I block my face with my hands so it doesn’t hit me. “Mom, calm down. I’m just trying to look out for you. I know you’re sad—”

“He’s dead, Alexander! If he didn’t leave us, he’d be alive right now. If he stayed—”

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