Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I laughed. “Sexy joggers?”
“Very sexy.” He tilted his chin to the night sky. “Elmwood has more stars than anywhere else I’ve ever been. Or is this technically Wood Hollow since it’s a new development?”
“It’s still Elmwood. I bought the last parcel of land at the fringe of the forest and hired the contractor in charge of the new houses in Wood Hollow to build me one. My mom dealt with everything, though. She has great taste, and she knows what I like.”
“You’re close to her too.”
“Yeah. I told you my mom and dad are great friends. She loves Smitty now too…and the kids.”
He cocked his head curiously. “Just one big happy family, eh?”
“In a way. Mom and Eric have their own lives, and they love to travel. I see more of them during regular season than I do in Elmwood in the summertime. But they all spend holidays together whether or not I’m able to join them now. Nathan, Char, and Ells call her Mama Piper. Nath and Char are old enough to sort through the logistics of why I have a mother and father and they have two dads, but kids go with the flow. They love her and my mom loves them. She says it’s her practice for being a grandma someday…and then she taps her watch and tells me she has no plans to live forever.” My lips twitched in amusement. “It’s funny that my dad’s second family has taken some of the pressure off, though. Definitely odd modern-day dynamics.”
“Maybe, but you’re lucky.”
“Yeah, when I was little, I assumed every divorced couple was like my parents—friends who didn’t want to live together anymore.”
Trinsky snorted derisively. “No disrespect, Milligan, but you live in a fucking fairy tale.”
I frowned. “Well…I know it’s—”
“You don’t know. Not really, and I’m fucking glad you don’t.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” And I was, but I also saw an opening. “You…you said you didn’t know your dad.”
“Nope. Never met him. He was basically a sperm donor.”
“Oh.”
I thought that was it, but after a long silence, Mason continued.
“I built up this fantasy in my head that he’d come home or that one of the guys she’d bring by would be the one who’d stay. That they’d give me more than a passing glance and that she’d give a shit if they turned out to be abusive assholes. For the record, my prayers were not answered.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I set my hand over his, aware this was the first time he’d ever talked about his childhood. I’d had a feeling it wasn’t a good story, and my heart ached for the little boy he’d been.
Mason’s jaw tightened. “I learned early on to trust my instincts and stay light on my feet. I knew when to stay away from my mom and when I could try to fix her. Nine years old, picking up needles, cleaning up bottles, and cigarette butts, and scrounging for loose change to buy food when the fridge was empty. My childhood was one fucked-up cycle of parenting a parent who was her own worst enemy. But…I got this glorious reprieve from her the summer I turned ten when she passed out behind the wheel and wrapped her car around a tree.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah, I know it sounds awful, but it was a wake-up call.”
“Shit. Was she hurt? Were you in the car?”
“No, she was alone and she was fine, but it was her third DUI in two months. Mom lost her job, her loser boyfriend, and she had to go to mandated rehab. I was seconds away from becoming a casualty of the system and you know, I didn’t mind. I was hungry all the fucking time. I would have happily taken my chances with a foster family. But my Aunt Carla showed up in her Escalade and took me to live with her in her fancy house five miles away. I’d never heard of her. Ever. My mom’s own fucking sister. She was amazing. And no, the house wasn’t fancy, but it was a real house and there was food in the pantry. And there were kids in the neighborhood, and one of them had a dad who worked for the Kings.”
“The Zamboni man.”
His smile reached his eyes this time. “Mike and Ty Petrowski. I fly them out to Denver for a few games every season.”
“That’s cool.”
“That handful of years with an aunt who took on a kid she barely knew changed my life. I got to see how people with self-respect and discipline lived, and I found hockey. I never looked back.”
“Was your mom in recovery when she had Eddie?” I asked.
Mason sighed deeply. “She was. She’d been two years sober and had a new job when I returned home to live with her, and everything seemed to be going in the right direction. Then she got pregnant. And at first, I was happy for her, but Eddie’s dad was like every other piece of shit she’d ever dated. Toxic personalities who think being a man means being loud and aggressive. He’d moved half of his shit into the house, and there were nauseating plans for a big wedding and blah, blah, blah. I was too busy with hockey to get sucked into it. As long as she wasn’t using, I didn’t care. I just wanted…peace.”