Page 150 of Behind the Net

“I don’t want you to shoulder this alone, because I love you and I owe you everything, but you have to give mesomething.” I scrub a hand down my face, and my chest sinks further in defeat. “I don’t know what to do anymore. If you can’t take care of yourself, if I’m always worrying about you, I can’t have a normal life. You know what I told myself for years, Mom? I told myself that I can’t meet anyone or get married until I retire from hockey because I need to focus on my career and taking care of you.”

Pain flashes through her eyes.

“I’m in love with Pippa.” My voice softens as I think about the woman outside this room. “I love her, and I want to be with her, but I worry that it’s going to get in the way of taking care of you.” I rub the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what to do.”

My mom’s face falls, and she looks so heartbroken.

I swallow past a thick throat and take a seat beside her on the bed. “I love you so much. It kills me to watch this happen.”

She runs her fingers along the beads on her wrist and takes a slow, deep breath.

“I felt so much guilt for what happened with your father,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes closed with the pain. “If you had been in the car, I never would have forgiven myself.”

“I know.” She’s never said this out loud, but somehow, I know it.

“I have never been the mother you needed.” A tear leaks out of her eye, and she wipes it away fast before she shakes her head to herself. “I thought that stuff was behind me.” Her eyes are watery when she meets mine, and her throat works. I know she means the depression and anxiety. “I wanted it to be behind me so badly.”

“You always felt guilt because you never made Dad get the help he needed, right?” I ask.

She meets my eyes and nods.

“How is what you’re doing any different?” My voice is soft because this is going to be the hardest truth to stomach. “You know deep down you need help and you’re ignoring the problem.”

In her eyes, I see it all: guilt, worry, regret, self-hatred, and resignation.

“Yeah,” she says, deflating. “You’re right.”

“I don’t want to be right.”

A rueful smile ghosts over her face. “It’s hard admitting that there’s a problem.” She stops herself. “ThatIhave a problem.”

“I know.”

Her gaze lifts to mine. “I want you to have everything.”

“I want you to get a therapist and tackle this like I know you can.” I think about Pippa and the stuff she’s been through with her ex, how he tried to decimate her confidence, but she rose up stronger and brighter. “Having these issues doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger, and I know you can do this.”

A moment passes where we just look at each other. Things have changed for the better. I can feel it.

“You love Pippa?” she asks softly, eyes roaming over me with warm admiration.

I huff. “That’s what you got from all of this?”

She laughs lightly and sighs. “I’m going to get a therapist, I’m going to talk to them about medication, and I’m going to give this a serious try. Because I don’t want to drown in this anymore, and I want you to be happy.” Through her sadness and shame, her eyes spark with teasing. “So, you love Pippa?”

I smile and my heart expands, filling every corner of the room. “Yep. I love Pippa.”

“And she loves you?”

“Yep,” Pippa calls from the hall.

We both burst out laughing.

Pippa pokes her head in the door with an embarrassed smile. She’s blushing. “Sorry.”

My mom waves her in. “Come in, come in.”

Pippa wanders into the room and leans against the table near the door.

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