A missed call from Roger, my old agent, with his usual check in.
Roger: Hey, how’s it going? You take up playing golf yet in your early retirement…like really early?
Most of the time I ignored it. Other times, I respond ignoring the hidden question in his small talk and tell him exactly what he could care less about.
Me: I haven’t, but I can get you a great deal on some clubs if you’re interested.
I chuckled and set my phone down. Not bothering to see his response and answered his unspoken question to myself. “No, not going back, Rog.”
A while back he’d asked if I realized I now lived and operated a business in the same town as a few of the Buffalo Gaters players. Max Withers being one of them.
Truth be told, I hadn't, since I didn't follow their team or their players on the news channels or any social media. The most I’d allow myself was an occasional check in on my own team down in New York City. I’d made life-long friends on that team.
Hockey was no longer my life. And I had no intention of making it be ever again.
2
My heart washeavy and I slid down with my back against the wall in my bedroom. Taking the moment I desperately needed to just…checkout.
I blew out a breath fighting to keep the tears in. Okay…maybe breakdown was more like it.
This isn’t forever.I will get it together.
Eventually.
I had to keep reminding myself of this on almost a daily basis. But seven years had sure as hell felt like forever. And as he got older, it kept getting harder. More expenses, more questions, more guilt.
I gave in to the water works and let them flow. Sometimes we needed this. Not single moms. Most of them seemed to have it all together. But the single moms who were determined to make it work—on their own—without ever asking for a penny. Without everneedinganyone.
Even if their kid’s father did have millions.
“Jax doesn’t need money. He’s fine. We’re fine.” I repeated that last one about ten times, whispering it like a chant until I believed it.
I made sure my baby had everything. I made sure no one would ever ask him why he didn’t.
Releasing the tension, I breathed out and opened my eyes, glancing around my orderly, picture-perfect bedroom. Everything in the apartment had to be. There were more than enough people in this town who knew who I was. Who Jax’s father was.
So I made sure it showed.
Even if it cost me every cent of my paycheck to make it happen. The last thing I ever wanted Jax to have to answer is why he’s poor when his father was Max Withers, Buffalo’s star hockey player and team captain.
And even though I had to miss some games and most practices because I was stuck working, I knew he appreciated it. I was raising a good kid. The only thing in the universe who knew how to make me smile.
I stared at my bedroom door as if sensing him on the other side of it.
Surely enough.
“Mom did’ya find them?”
I jumped, wiping the moisture from my eyes. “No honey, not in here.” I cleared my throat and pulled open the door. “Where was the last place you saw them?”
“I don’t remember,”
I groaned. “Jax, you need to start taking better care of your stuff.”
He shrugged and stared in the direction of his room. “I don’t really need them anyway.”
“Why not? You plan on running on the field barefoot? Or in your tennis shoes?”
