Page 42 of Center Ice
“Yeah.” Audrey’s soft voice fills the space, and I glance over at her standing in the opening to the kitchen. Her skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, like her fever broke in her sleep. Her tank top clings to her, and her sweatpants hang on her hips. She looks exhausted, but she walked down the stairs by herself and is leaning against the door frame without looking like it’s holding her up—which is progress. “That was a tough kindergarten assignment to have sent home. I’d asked if he could draw his own family tree so he could include Jameson and Jules. But there was a note on it from his teacher that just said, ‘Graham decided he didn’t want to draw his own family tree.’”
A hundred questions run through my mind—about what Graham does and doesn’t know, about why her parents aren’t listed there, about whether she eventually wants to give him siblings…
“Audrey—” The angry buzzing of my phone stops me short, because when I glance down at where I must have left it on the counter next to my sweatshirt last night, Caitlyn’s name is flashing on my screen.
AndI know. Right in that split second, I know that I fucked up. I was so concerned about Audrey last night that I completely forgot I was supposed to be at my mom’s house early this morning so I could bring her to an appointment at the hospital. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her, “I have to answer this.”
She nods and folds her arms under her chest, and I’m already grabbing my keys and my wallet and shoving them in my pocket. “I’m on my way,” I say into the phone.
“Where the hell are you?! I’ve called youfourtimes. You were supposed to be at Mom’san hour ago.”
“I’m so sorry. I overslept. I can be there in, like, twenty minutes.”
Caitlyn barks out a laugh. “You can’t get anywhere in Boston in twenty minutes. It’s rush hour. By the time you get out here, and then back into Longwood Medical Center, you’ll miss the damn appointment, Drew.” She spits out my name like I’m the world’s biggest asshole. And in this moment, maybe I am. “This is kind of an important one, you know.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“I have to leave for work. I’ll bring Mom with me. You can meet us at my office and take her from there.”
Even though the doctor’s office Caitlyn works at is only two blocks from the hospital, we generally try not to do this type of hand-off with mom because it can be confusing for her. But right now, we don’t have a choice.
Caitlyn hangs up on me, and I look at Audrey helplessly. We deserve to have this conversation about Graham, but I can’t do it right now. “I’m so sorry, I have to go. I was supposed to take my mom to an appointment this morning.”
“It’s okay, Drew,” she says, and she sounds resigned. “I get it. We’ll talk later.”
I’m angry at myself, and at this situation, and at the way I’m making her feel like she’s not a priority. But isn’t this what Iwas reminding myself about last night—that I already have too much on my plate? She deserves better than what I can offer her right now. She deserves someone who can give everything to a relationship, who can put their whole focus on loving her like she deserves to be loved.
She locks the door behind me, and I take the steps down to my Jeep, knowing that there were no good choices in this situation, but feeling like I somehow made the wrong decision, nonetheless.
Chapter Nineteen
AUDREY
“Tell me again why you’ve pulled that hat down so far you probably can’t even see?” Lauren teases as we walk down the steeply pitched steps inside Boston’s Liberty Arena, where the Rebels play their home games.
“He’s not going to see you, you know,” Jules says from behind me.
“Oh?” Lauren says, her voice taking on the higher-pitched note of interest. “Are we talking about this now?”
I grip the railing in the center of the stairs so I can shoot a look at Jules over my shoulder and not go tumbling down headfirst. I reallycan’tsee much from under the brim of this hat. The players are already on the ice warming up, and the last thing I need is to make a scene and draw attention to myself.
I haven’t talked to Drew since he left my house yesterday morning, and I’d really rather he not know that I’m here tonight.
“No,” I say, my voice strong and certain. “We arenottalking about this right now.”
“We’re going to have to eventually,” Lauren says, pausing as she looks around for her fiancé. He and Graham went ahead while we stopped to grab some drinks and popcorn, but they’re not in our usual row.
“Yes, but eventually is notnow.” A few rows up from the ice, I see Graham standing on a seat with Jameson holding on to his waist so he doesn’t fall, and waving up at us.
Lauren laughs, but continues down the stairs until she gets to the row where Jameson sits with Graham. “Babe,” she says, and it amuses me to no end when she and my grumpy brother, who absolutely melts for his future wife, use these terms of endearment for each other. “Are you just down here to watch warmups?”
“No, these are our seats.”
“Our seats are up there,” she says, hitching her thumb over her shoulder and motioning behind us.
“Remember, I said I was getting new seats this season?” he asks.
“I remember you saying you were gettingmoreseats,” she says, and that’s how I remember it too.
