Page 89 of Forbidden Hockey
“Is that … not cool with you? Sorry, he’s been pestering me since the start of the season. He’s fucking relentless.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just odd timing.” I spill about Maxwell.
“What a dick? Do you want me to talk to Rhett or Maverick?”
“Not yet. I’ve got it handled. Though, if he asks me my opinion on gentle parenting one more fucking time …”
Dirk has the audacity to laugh. “Okay, he’s a dick and I’m by no means in support of whatever the fuck he’s doing, but it’s kind of hilarious. Maybe the man’s dealt with so much scum of the earth that he’s lost the ability to deal with good humans.”
That’s … probably right on the money. Fuck, now I kind of feel sorry for the asshole. Not completely, just the thinnest sliver of empathy. Could a man who’s seen what Maxwell has ever let down his guard enough to let his sons be?
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
That’s the understanding he was talking about. That’s why he picked me. No way he didn’t investigate the fuck outta me before he graced me with his evil presence.
He was right. I do understand how he operates because I’m the same; I just made different choices. I’ve seen too much, things I’ve been actively working to protect my son from seeing. I know what kind of shit lives in the world, but I never want Dash to know it. I want him to live a blissful hockey life, drinking beer with his buddies.
Blissfully unaware will never be me. But I had to do exactly what I’d suggested Maxwell should do: let my guard down enough to let my son be.
If he hasn’t done it, maybe he can’t.
Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit and he’s just an evil fucker.
But it doesn’t change the fact that in that way, we’re the same. It’s something regular civilians will never understand. I don’t even want my pretty boy to know what I know or see what I’ve seen. How much will he let me get away with not telling him? We’re in a relationship now, which means we’re partners. I won’t lie or hide things from him, but I’d like to die with some of what I know, and I hope he can understand that when the time comes.
Because it will come.
“Trav? Where did you go?”
“Fuck, sorry. I just realized how alike Maxwell and I are, and I don’t like it.”
“Trav, you’re not even in the same stratosphere as Maxwell.”
“We’ve been through similar shit, though. I understand him.”
“Hunt always says we’re defined by the choices we make. Even though I’m pissed at him right now, he’s right about that one.”
“And I agree, baby, but sometimes certain choices feel like they’re the only ones we have.” I don’t add that during those fucking times, it’s the choice between a tray full of shit choices. I’ve had to make some of those kinds of choices.
“Fair,” he says. “And I can’t fathom what you’ve been through, Trav, but it’s what’s in your heart when you make a horrible decision.”
If that’s true, then I guess it’s yet to be determined as to what Maxwell’s motives are when he makes decisions for his sons—is it because he’s protecting them, or because he wants to control them? If I were to measure a guess, I’d say it’s both. I don’t think the man has pure intentions, but I don’t think he’s pure evil either.
I’ve seen pure evil, I know what it looks like. Maxwell ain’t it, or I wouldn’t let him set foot in my bar, mayor or not.
“Do you think I’ll ever get to know what you’ve been through, Trav?” Dirk asks. There’s so much hope in his voice. He already knows a little bit. I told him and Dash about my stint in prison as a lesson in what not to do, so that they’d never land themselves there.
“I want to tell you. It’s fair that you get to know me—the real me—but some things need to stay buried. Okay?”
He puts a hand to his forehead, then seems to change course and runs it through his hair instead—he was looking for his hat, wasn’t he? I should have kept it. I’ve got some of his clothes here, but I don’t have anything of real sentimental value.
“Um, yeah. I guess I can understand that.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s childish, but I want to know everything about you.”
That pushes at one of those guards I have up, one of those protective-type ones that I don’t know if I can tear down. The thing only Maxwell would understand, a similarity between us that’s gonna fucking haunt me.Fucking Elkingtons.
“I’ll … work on it, okay?” It’s the best I can offer for now. Dirk nods. “But enough shitty stuff, are you naked over there, pretty boy?’
