Page 94 of Crush
“Well …?” Cynthia raised a palm, begging the question.
My nostrils flared. “I seriously hope you're not suggesting that she was.”
“It's just funny, that's all. I mean, youdidfind out about the affair because of her, right? And then you went and filed for divorce immediately after. So, in a way, shewasthe reason.”
Blood boiled in my veins. “You're unbelievable. Listen to the words coming out of your mouth, Cynthia.Youput our daughter in that position. She didn't want to be there. What a horrifying thing for an eight-year-old—to be the first one to find out that Mommy is cheating on Daddy.”
“Here we go, time for the guilt trip.” Cynthia rolled her eyes and reached for the window.
“Wait. Wait,” I said, measuring my voice. “I'm not trying to guilt trip you. I'm telling you, very simply, that as long as Chloe is willing to go to therapy and talk to a professional about this, I'm going to support her.”
“Sounds like a threat to me,” Cynthia said.
“Only because some part of you is scared that Chloe will learn the proper tools to sort out her issues.”
“Deep, Shea. Deep. Maybe you should become a therapist yourself?”
I ignored the smart remark. “I know you won't believe this, but I actually don't wantyou to have a shitty relationship with your daughter. I want you to figure your problems out and have a healthy relationship—because I want our daughter to be well-adjusted and have a happy life.”
“Oh, and since you have all the answers, I suppose you know just what I should do?”
Her comment might've been bait, but I took it anyway.
“Look. Youhaveto stop blaming Chloe for the divorce. Because she's picking up on the fact that you blame her, consciously or otherwise. She's a smart girl, smarter than we realize, and she's perceptive as hell. And once she starts therapy, it's just a matter of time before she figures all this out. She's too smart not to, Cynthia. I just wantyouto figure it out before she does, so you can help her—and not be a roadblock to her healing.”
Cynthia looked as if she couldn't decide whether to scream at me in a rage or break into tears. In the end, she chose neither. Without a word, her expression went stony and solemn, and her window began to whir as it rolled up.
I watched her car race off, an emptiness inside me. It was an awful feeling, that my daughter might not ever have a healthy relationship with her mother. I knew in my heart that it would cause Chloe a lot more pain and anguish in the coming years—and I felt awful, knowing I'd played a big role in causing that pain. I was just a kid when I met Cynthia. A dumb kid, high on fame, and with a million-dollar contract burning a hole in my pocket. I hadn't known what to look for in a woman. I just hadn't known.
I walked back inside and saw all three kids gathered in the kitchen around Brynn. She was busy chopping vegetables for the night's meal. The twins, engaged in a frenzy to tell Brynn about their weekends, wrestled and jostled and shouted over each other. Chloe, the wise and elder sister, stood at Brynn's guard and kept her brothers in line—while she herself updated Brynn on the latest gossip from her day at school.
It was chaos, but a loving chaos, and Brynn flourished in it. She cared about those kids as if they were her own. It was no wonder they were so magnetically drawn to her, why they did what she asked without arguing or sneaking off to do something else. They respected her, looked up to her, theylovedher.
I walked in and gave my kids one more big hug.
I hadn't known what to look for in a woman before, but I do now.
***
Two days later.
I strolled into the dressing room, my bag slung over my shoulder. The two days off—away from hockey and sneaking out with Brynn at any chance we got—had done me well.
But stepping into that room was like walking into a funeral. The mood was tense, the faces nervous, the usual jokes and laughs nonexistent.
The Boston Brawlers had lost their swagger.
“Chins up, boys,” I said as I took a seat at my stall. “It's way too morose in here. Why isn't anybody talking or having fun in here?”
Their defeated eyes looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
“Down 2-0 in our series, Boomer,” Brooks grumbled. “I'm not finding a whole lot to laugh about right now. Unlessyougot something to cheer us up?”
“Sure do.” I chuckled as I slipped out of my suit jacket. “Guys, I admit it. You were right all along.”
Everyone peeked up at me, eyes big and curious.
“About what?” Ilya asked.
