“I’m the ass?” he questions. “He’s a goddamn sophomore in college, Julia. More talent in his fucking pinky toe than half the collegiate players put together. Everything rests on the next few years for this kid. Do you see that? Do any of yousee that? And Margo, my god. You were given everything. Every privilege. Every opportunity and you still ended up exactly where?—"
“Enough,” Jules says. “I’m serious. We’re not getting anywhere.”
Coach sighs in frustration. “Fine, then let’s get somewhere. You said you have a doctor’s appointment. Have you looked into adoption agencies yet?”
“What?” JT can’t hide his anger or surprise.
My uncle doesn’t even notice. He’s in problem-solving mode. “Jules, who’s your friend? The one who makes all the jewelry?”
My aunt furrows her brow. “Kate? Why do you—oh, my god, stop. You cannot arrange a damn adoption, Hudson.”
“JT and I are going to raise our baby, Uncle Hudson,” I say, finding my voice.
But of course, he’s shaking his head before I’m even finished with my sentence. “How the hell are you going to do that? You don’t have a job, Margo, and you can’t access your trust for three more years. And you?” he says, turning his attention back on JT, “You really think you’re going to play house while you claw your way up the ranks of the NHL? Not likely. You’ll be distracted and they’ll eat you alive. You think I’m the bad guy, I know. I’m the asshole. Fine. But you have no clue what the real world is like. Not one clue.” He’s pacing now, and rubbing his temples as though we’re giving him a headache. I don’t feel like his niece right now. I don’t feel like family. I’m just one more crisis to deal with, one more shitstorm to fix.
It’s too much.
“I love JT,” I say before I can hold onto the words and save them for a time when we’re alone. “I love him, and he loves me and our baby. We are a family. You don’t have to like it, Uncle Hudson, but you’re not going to change it.” It’s strange how much lighter I feel right now, as though I’vetaken away anyone else’s ability to make me feel guilty or unworthy.
I chance a glance at JT and see that his smile has never been brighter. Maybe there would have been a better time or place for my declaration of love, or maybe it came at exactly the right time.
My uncle rakes his hands through his hair. “Do you think love is going to be enough? Is it going to pay the bills? Get up in the middle of the night with a screaming baby?”
I can feel the anger and frustration rolling off JT in waves at my uncle’s words.
“We’re done here,” my boyfriend says, taking my hand. “We were done about fifteen minutes ago, and we should have left then.”
My uncle’s voice is cold, almost unrecognizable. “If you leave this house, Margo, don’t bother coming back.”
It’s not even a tough decision. I grab my bag and my coat and follow JT out the door.
CHAPTER 32
JT
Since I gotto Bainbridge over a year ago, I’ve been to Coach’s house dozens of times, but I never imagined ringing his doorbell with empty boxes in hand or ascending the staircase and filling those boxes with all the things Maggie left behind.
But that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Jules let me in half an hour ago, and I can hear Coach stomping around, but it’s probably best if we don’t see each other.
Maggie’s a bit of a neat freak, which is good because it’s not taking me long to pack. It’s also bad because she may not last twenty-fours in the hockey house if she’s used to things being this neat and orderly.
I’m minding my business, packing up her toiletries when I hear voices through the vent that I just can’t ignore.
“You’re going to lose her. You get that, right, Hudson? She’s all you have left of Kirstin, or your parents, and you are pushing her away.”
Coach isn’t having any of his wife’s logic. “Actions have consequences, Jules.”
There’s a beat of silence before Jules’s voice drifts up through the vent again. “And what about our actions?”
“What the—that was different. That was not this in any way, shape, or form.”
“Wasn’t it?” Jules asks, her voice rising.
“No,” he insists. “They are young. Too damn young.”
“How old were you?” Jules volleys back, and I can’t lie, I’m curious about their argument. I make it a point never to get too involved in people’s relationships. It’s not my place, and what the hell would I have to offer. But until the past twenty-four hours, I looked up to Coach as a mentor, a friend, almost like a brother. He seemed to have the perfect life: a pro career that was great, even if it was short, a coaching gig that he loves, and a wife who adores him.
