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Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny (Taking Shots) by Madsen, Cindi (33)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ryder

When I grabbed my phone off my nightstand, I noticed that both of my parents had called and left messages. I was tempted to listen to them so I could get an idea of what I was about to face, but it wasn’t like two minutes would be enough time to prepare.

I slid the phone into the pocket of my jeans and glanced at Lindsay. She pulled her brown waves into a messy bun and smoothed a hand down her crumpled outfit—Mom would undoubtedly notice the wrinkles. She used to harp on my wrinkled shirts all the time. Hopefully she’d keep it to herself—not that it mattered much, because it wasn’t like they wouldn’t realize Lindsay had been here all night the second they saw us.

“Ready?” I asked her.

“There’s still the window option.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at our possible escape route.

“Not to scare you even more, but they’d probably track us down. They’re crazy focused, especially when they’re together. Mostly so they can get whatever it is out of the way and get as far away from each other as they can.” I held out my hand and Lindsay took it. “I don’t care what they think, or what they say. I just want to get this over with and get back to you and me.”

All my life, I’d fallen in line and done what they wanted me to. It just seemed easier, and I’d had my countdown to college and living on my own. You’d think after two years, they’d accept it, but clearly they thought they could still come in and pull strings. I was over being in the middle; over holding back to avoid rocking the boat.

Lindsay gave me a fortifying smile and laced her fingers with mine, and her strength transferred to me.

We walked out into the living room, hand in hand.

“Oh,” Mom said, the shock and revulsion clear before she pulled out her fake politician charm. “Lindsay. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“I feel the same way about you two,” I said. “I know we didn’t have an appointment.”

“Ryder.” Dad’s sharp tone cut through the room. He gave Lindsay a patronizing smile. “Nice to see you again, but this is a family matter. Would you mind catching up with Ryder later, sweetheart?”

Mom’s eye twitched at the “sweetheart” and I wrapped my arm around Lindsay’s waist, our fingers still linked. “I probably should’ve been clearer last night,” I said. “Lindsay’s my girlfriend. She and I have plans this morning, and then I’ve got game prep, so say what you came to say, and then we need to get going.”

Mom shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect her. You, too.”

I hesitated. Mom might want me to go for the girls she set me up with, but she usually did try to keep others from Dad’s blast radius when he was in a mood, and the stern look on his face made it clear he came prepared for battle.

I wanted Lindsay here, but it was for selfish reasons. It was easier to remember what I wanted when she was with me. Easier to speak my mind. I lowered my voice. “It could get ugly—strike that. It most likely will. If you need to go get some work done at the paper, I totally understand.”

She lifted her chin, that fiery attitude I loved her for taking hold. “If you need me, I’m staying.”

I glanced at my parents. I was an adult—I could take whatever they told me. Dad would probably threaten to cut off his financial support, but I didn’t think Mom would leave me without a way to make it for the next few months. I had some money saved, too. Not enough to be set for college or anything, but enough to finish out this semester and figure out what to do about the next one, even if it meant tightening my budget or student loans. “I’ll be okay.”

“Um…I also…” Lindsay reached up, like she was going to twist a strand of hair around her finger, but then seemed to realize she’d pulled it up and rubbed her hand behind her neck instead. “Well, I rode here with you last night.” She tipped onto her toes and whispered, “When you went all caveman on me.”

I got lost in the memories of carrying her out of the bar, then from my car and into my bedroom, where I tossed her on the bed and went to exploring every inch of her with my hands and lips.

“I can call a cab,” Lindsay said, “but it’ll take a few min—”

“No way. Just take my car.” I grabbed my keys, placed them in her palm, and walked her to the door. “I’ll call you later.”

She ran her hand down the side of my face and whispered, “You’re a kick-ass hockey player, and you don’t need to live in anyone’s shadow. Just remember that.”

I kissed her good-bye, taking my time, because I was over caring what my parents thought. Over letting things get in the way of Lindsay and me. I knew what I wanted, and it was her. I watched her until she climbed in my car and drove out of the parking lot.

Then I let go of the wall that I’d erected and turned to face my parents. “What’s so important that you both came down?” I almost made a joke about an unknown relative dying, but I’d feel super guilty if that were true, even though it was also unlikely, so I held it in.

“It involves that girl, actually,” Dad said, and I stiffened.

Mom walked over, her heels clacking against the floor, and placed her hand on my shoulder. “There’s something you should know.” She glanced at Dad and a sense of foreboding pricked my skin. I wasn’t sure why. Nothing they said could make any difference. “Lindsay looked so familiar, but I thought maybe I was wrong. Or that I was just projecting.”

“Which wouldn’t be surprising,” Dad muttered.

Mom spun on him, her words sharp. “You asked me to help, even though this is a painful subject for me, so maybe you can hold back the insults for five whole minutes? I think I deserve that much after everything I suffered through during our marriage.”

She turned back to me and ruffled my hair like I was a little kid, and I silently prayed that my roommates would stay far, far away from this mess, whatever it was. “Honey, you know I want the best for you. I know that Lindsay’s pretty, and right now she seems like a good idea, but those little moments are what can ruin the big picture.” A hint of spite entered her expression. “Just ask your father.”

Dad clenched his jaw. “I thought we were pausing the jabs.”

Mom shrugged, a smug, what-can-you-do gesture.

“Look, what your mom is saying is girls like Lindsay…” Dad sighed. “I’ve met a hundred of them. They like you because they look at you as their ticket to more. She’s already borrowing your car, and then she’ll just need some money for this or that, until suddenly you’re supporting her shopping sprees and buying her an apartment.”

Offense bubbled up, making my blood pump hotter. “Lindsay’s not a gold digger. She doesn’t even know that I have money.” Or more accurately that I would once I turned twenty-one and Dad released my trust fund. At least it didn’t depend on whether or not he was proud of me, because I now knew I’d never attain that level, and I was done killing myself trying.

“Oh, son, girls always know.” Dad arched his eyebrows. “And I’m guessing you told her that I used to play for the NHL…”

I opened my mouth and closed it without saying anything, not sure how to respond. I tried to remember when exactly I’d told her, then got mad at myself because it didn’t matter.

Nope, it didn’t matter that it was the night everything seemed to change between us.

“Like I said, girls always know. Especially one raised to manipulate men into giving her everything.” Dad took a step toward me, and it almost looked like he was going to put his hand on my shoulder like Mom had, but he dropped it before making contact. Which was good. I wouldn’t know what to do with a gesture like that from him, but I sure as hell didn’t want it, especially now. “Lindsay’s mom…”

The sense of foreboding grew, binding my lungs.

“Remember when I found out your father had put his girlfriend up in a nice apartment on the outskirts of the city?” Mom asked. “Well, that was Lindsay’s mother, and when I found out, that was the final straw that tore our family apart for good.”

I shook my head. “That’s the craziest story I’ve ever heard. Who concocted it?” I looked at Dad. “You?” I turned to Mom. “You? Really, all this to try to get rid of a girlfriend you don’t approve of?”

“It’s true,” Dad said. “Yvette Rivera worked the hockey circuit. She went to every hockey game, event, and party she could along the East Coast. She’s a beautiful woman and she knew just what to say to pull guys in, especially when they might be feeling underappreciated at home.”

Mom made a disgusted noise.

“Anyway, I got caught up with her and started seeing her more and more, and…” He cleared his throat. “For a while, I was supporting her and her daughter. At the time, Lindsay must’ve been about twelve or so. I wasn’t sure it was her at first, but she looks so much like her mom, and when your mother told me she was the editor of the paper, I looked her up, and sure enough, the name fit. I…” He ran a hand along his jaw. “Since I was trying to keep it a secret, I only visited after Lindsay was asleep or when she stayed with friends or her grandparents.”

Dad’s features hardened and an angry vein throbbed in his forehead. “That woman tore my family apart. I won’t let her daughter play my son the way she played me.”

So nice how he blamed the woman and not himself. From the disgusted look on Mom’s face, she was thinking the same, or maybe she was just angry about his affair, and she had every right to be. My mind spun over everything else he’d said, and what it meant. I could hardly believe it, but I put the pieces together with what Lindsay had said about her mom, and I hated that it might not be a total lie.

“Lindsay’s not playing me,” I said, my voice coming out less steady than I wanted it to. “Maybe her mom played you, but she’s not like that.”

“After she’d sunk her hooks into me, nice and deep, I heard the sob story,” Dad said. “About how she just needed time to get on her feet. About how Lindsay’s father left her with nothing and she’d been struggling to make ends meet as a single mom ever since. She even told me she might have to move if she couldn’t find a way to stay, and like an idiot, I offered to help her out. I’m not sure any of it was true. I just know that while I was paying for her apartment, she was out flirting with my teammates, trying to get what she could from them as well.

“Obviously, Lindsay’s a pretty girl, and she’s clearly learned her mom’s same tricks. I bet she knows exactly what to say…” Dad clenched his jaw, his eyes far away for a moment before they returned to me. “You chose the worst possible person in the world to get involved with, and don’t tell me it hasn’t messed with how well you’ve been playing. I was there at the game last night when you looked up at her, right before you started racking up mistakes.”

“Lindsay’s not like that,” I repeated, ignoring what he’d said about the game since it was a little too true. Each breath tightened my chest. For the first time, I’d finally let someone all the way in. I thought of how long she’d resisted my advances, and how hesitant she was to get involved…

This whole situation seemed surreal, like a bad dream I’d wake up from. And while I wished I would, it didn’t change anything. It was something Lindsay and I might have to work through, and yeah, I’d rather her mom not be the reason my parents broke up, but really, they’d been on the brink of divorce for years before that. “You guys need to go. I’ve got a lot to do today to prepare for tomorrow’s game.”

“That’s the point,” Dad said. “You need your head straight. Just take a break from her—at least until after the Frozen Four Championship. If you’re right about her, she’ll understand. But if you don’t play well in this tournament, the scouts will see that, and your coach will hesitate to play you next year. No one wants a player who chokes in the big games.”

I’d been teetering on the brink of anger as it was, but that pushed me right over the edge. “No one wants their parents to come drop a huge bomb on them the day before one of the biggest games of their lives, either, but you don’t care about what I want, do you, Dad? You want me to be just like you. But I’m not. I’m the guy who needs a backup plan in case I’m as bad at hockey as you say. And if I never get drafted, I’ll brush myself off and…teach high school math or something. If it comes to that, I’ll even be mostly okay with that.”

The words came out tight, because they weren’t 100 percent true, even as I tried to make them so. But I still liked that I had given myself options.

Both of my parents wrinkled their noses. My mom seemed to be inwardly struggling with something before her face smoothed. “At least try to be a college professor, if you’re going that route.”

“He’s not fucking going that route,” Dad snapped. “After they win the Frozen Four Tournament, he’ll experience what it feels like to be a winner after some actual time on the ice and realize he also wants to make money. This is just his way of lashing out.”

I exhaled a breath, suddenly exhausted, the desire to be alone taking over. I did want to experience winning the Frozen Four Tournament, as not just someone who’d played a few seconds, but for most of the game. I wanted to play for the NHL. It would be nice if my dad’s approval didn’t rely on it, and clearly it did. Say I did make it, even then, it would never be enough. In a way, it was a relief to let go of the need to make him proud. To not feel like I had to live in his shadow as Lindsay had put it.

I walked to the door and held it open. “Good-bye, Mom and Dad. Next time, call first.”

Dad crossed his arms and so I crossed mine right back. If it came down to it, I was in better shape, and for the first time in my life, I could easily take him.

“You’ve still got eight months until the trust fund that I set up for you kicks in. You might want to think about that.”

I flicked my eyes to the ceiling like I was pondering it and then looked back at him. “Thought about it. Feel the same way. Out.

“I’ll see you after the game. Don’t do anything stupid before that.”

I refused to respond to that.

Dad stormed out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

The worried look Mom cast my way wasn’t as easy to ignore. Yes, she made me do the dance of the good little son for her campaigns, but when it came down to it, I believed she had my best intentions at heart, even if she didn’t truly know what would be best for me. “You know I wouldn’t be here—with him—if I wasn’t concerned. Her mother already broke up my marriage. Don’t let her daughter ruin your career and all of that potential you have inside you. Don’t let them take away the man I know my son can be.”

Dramatic to the end. “I won’t, Mom. Like I keep saying, Lindsay isn’t like her mom.”

“I hope not, but I still want you to be careful.” She shot me her no-nonsense look, patted my cheek, and then walked toward the open door.

She abruptly spun around. “What your father forgot to tell you is that he was all set to leave me and start a life with Yvette.” A positively smug look accompanied her delivery of the last line of the story. “But she’d already moved on with one of his teammates.”

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