Page 67 of No Pucks

Logan: I’m going over there to tell her.

Logan: Send me the proof you have.

Evander: I’m emailing the proof.

Evander: I enlisted Grandfather to help.

Logan: You did what?

Evander: He was going to find out eventually and I needed cash.

Logan: I guess.

I’m not mad he did, but I know Mother won’t want anyone knowing.

Evander: Do you want me there?

Logan: No. But I need Dad out of the house. Can you distract him?

Evander: How?

Logan: I don’t know. Make something up.

Evander: I’m going to see if Grandfather can help. See if he can drag him out for the team.

Logan: okay

We land a few hours later,and I warn my brother I’m on my way over.

I knock despite having a key. The brownstone doesn’t feel like home any longer. Maybe it never did.

A few moments later, my mother pulls open the door, confusion pulling her forehead. “Logan, you didn’t tell me you were coming up for a visit.” She checks her watch. “Weren’t you flying home today?” She steps aside. “Come in.”

I slip in and remove my coat, handing it to the waiting housekeeper, Lena. She pats my cheek when I do, giving me a wink. She’s our former nanny and treats me as much like a mother as my real one. I smile, catching her hand to squeeze, loving her like one too.

“Can I get you some tea?” Lena asks me. “Your mother is in the middle of a pot in the sun room.”

“Please, Lena, that would be lovely,” my mother replies before I can. “You are staying, right?” She lifts a brow. “Your father had to run out, but he’ll be back if you came to see him.”

“Yes, I’m staying, and I came to see you.”

“Me? What a pleasant surprise.” She hugs me before we move to the sunroom.

We talk about the game for a few minutes as we wait for tea, but once Lena is gone, my mother’s body language changes, getting serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything’s wrong?” I’m not sure why I don’t just say it. Ripping the Band-Aid off should be easier, but shattering her bubble doesn’t come readily.

“Are you going to be the kid who comes home once a month just to see me?” Her questions gives me pause.

“Do you want me to be?”

“Of course I want to see my oldest. No matter how independent you’ve been your whole life, I love you and always want you here.” She smiles, easing a little.

“I will make an effort to come home more. It’s just—hard with Dad here.” Maybe I could ease into it.

I’m so mad about being the one who has to do this.

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