Page 10 of The Truth of Our Secrets

Chapter five

Jayce

The arena calms me. Working for The Enforcers hockey team made retirement from playing easier. The smell of the ice and ever-present man sweat is my normal. It reminds me not to panic. Despite the hold Emmet has over Madyson, she loves me. I’ll lay down my life for her while he treats her feelings like they’re inconsequential.

Clues of Emmet’s violent temper go right over her head. Even if he was being bullied, we all have choices. Violence is not the answer.

He’s capable of inflicting damage. My priority is ensuring my wife is never in danger.

It’s the least I can do for her. I’ve seen the long-term effects of violence and so has Madyson. She’s my number one concern.

When I hear voices, I wander down to the physical therapist’s room. Dylon’s shoulder isn’t healing properly, and I’m afraid he’s pushing himself. It’s detrimental to his recovery, but athletes can be stupid when they’re afraid their careers are on the line.

Our trainer’s soothing voice explains the reasons for focusing on mobility and range of motion.

Clearing my throat, I lean in the doorway, choosing my words carefully. If he thinks we’re ganging up on him, it’ll make the situation worse. I’m not sure Dylon will follow, the trainer, Grayson's instructions.

“It seems counterproductive to take it slow. But your shoulder will get stronger. We rely on your slapshot and don’t want to take any chances with your recovery. It’s still early in the season.”

Dylon chin lifts in acknowledgment. One freak accident put his career in jeopardy. He came off a stellar last season. I understand the urgency to get back on the ice. Retiring from the game was a hard decision.

“You good?” I ask.

“Why don’t you go mother that pretty little wife of yours,” he grumbles.

“I’ll quit mothering if you listen to your trainer,” I say seriously. “And keep your thoughts about my wife to yourself.” I point my finger at him in part warning part joke.

He uses his good arm to give me a mock salute. “Sure thing.” He grins.

That’s my cue to leave. Sometimes my title of Director of Player Development should be: Highly Paid Babysitter of Giant Men. I love my job. But being the bad guy isn’t my thing. Formulating drills and weight routines to keep them in shape is much more suited to my personality.

And thankfully I rarely have to do media. Being filmed makes my skin crawl and causes panic attacks. Madyson has been the key to helping me manage it. I don’t think I would survive losing her after all we’ve been through.

One more reason to cut Emmet from our lives.

Emmet

“How you feelin’, Mom?” I step into her run-down trailer and shut the door to keep the meager amount of heat inside.

“I’m doing great.” She stretches out on the threadbare couch in her bathrobe. It’s appropriate at 10:00 p.m. except she’s been wearing it for days. She lost another cashier job because she didn’t show up.

I love my mom. I do. It’s just I’ve been parenting her since I was a kid and I’m tired. If Alec hadn’t asked Cole if I could crash in the room above the shop, I’d be homeless. I can’t afford to keep paying her bills and mine.

Her medication is so expensive, and it’s bankrupting me. I wouldn’t mind so much if she took it and managed her symptoms. But I swear to God, the harder I try, the worse she becomes.

Like she doesn’t see any issue with letting her twenty-two-year-old son pay her bills and try to keep his twenty-year-old sister at the local city college. One of us has to break out of this life and I’m betting on my sister.

She’s smart and capable and just needs a chance. Hockey was my ticket to get an education, but that crashed and burned. Instead, I took care of my sister so social services didn’t put her in the system. She’ll be the first to graduate in our family. I’ll make sure of it.

I miss hockey and wonder if I would’ve earned a degree if circumstances were different.

My mom’s mental illness almost killed us all. My sister thinks I should let Mom handle her own life. But then she wouldn’t be here. Mom says she’s not meant for this world anymore. It’s the illness talking and I can’t in good conscience let her hurt herself.

“Did you take your meds today?”

She gives me a doe-eyed, innocent look. As if she has no idea what I’m talking about. As if I don’t ask her the same question every fucking day.

I can’t take the train out every day to check on her. She has a hard time with the aides. But if I stay here, my options are working at Walmart or the factory. And the factory hires people for a few years, then gets rid of them. No reason to pay extra vacation time or benefits. There’s always a new crop of grads needing work. This town is a typical poverty-stricken area.

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