Glove Save (Carolina Comets)
Glove Save: Chapter 9

I’ve had some scary moments in my life, like when I got pregnant by a guy I wasn’t in love with and realized he would have to be in my life forever now. Getting married to the same guy because it was “the right thing.” The first time my ex had too much to drink. The other night in the bar when that asshole cornered me.

But this moment right here? It’s the worst of them all.

Macie’s a crumpled pile of skin and bones, and I’m sitting on the bleachers dumbfounded and unable to move.

The sound of Greer’s skates against the ice is what snaps me out of my haze and has me sprinting down the steps and onto the slippery surface. I don’t have the right footwear on, so I’m unsurprised when I land right on my ass. Pain shoots through my backside, but I don’t care. I need to get to my daughter. It’s the only thing that matters right now.

I crawl my way across the ice, my hands frozen and my knees likely bruised. Greer has her cradled in his arms. He’s speaking to her, but I can’t make it out.

All I see is a nod. She’s moving.

Thank god she’s moving.

“Macie! Macie! Macie!” I chant, reaching for her.

Her arms fly up, circling around my neck and hugging me tightly.

I grip her, holding her closer than I ever have before, rocking her back and forth. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”

“Mom…” she says weakly, and for the first time since I saw her go down, tears begin leaking from my eyes.

I try my hardest not to let out the sob that seems to be caught in my tight chest. I don’t want to scare her. I don’t want her to know I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.

“Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

She shakes her head. “It hurts, but—”

“Where?” I pull her away, running my hands over her face and her head. “Where does it hurt?”

I keep pressing all over her body, feeling for anything that could even possibly be out of place.

“Just…sore. Everywhere,” she says, but I keep checking.

She’s missing something. I’m missing something.

“I need to get to a doctor.”

“Stevie.” A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and it takes me a second to remember we’re not alone.

Greer.

“Doctor,” I say to him.

“I can have the team doctor look at her, but she’s okay.”

“I want to be sure.”

He tucks his lips together, likely stifling his need to tell me she’s fine, then nods. “Okay.” He shoves up from the ice, bends down, and picks Macie up with zero strain.

“Hey!” she complains as he scoops her up in his arms.

“Quiet,” he argues back. “Your mom said so, and since you didn’t bite me today, I’m definitely more scared of her.”

“Why would I bite you?”

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, he puts his hand out to me. “Come on.”

I slide my palm against his, letting him pull me up, which he does effortlessly. Geez, how much does this guy work out?

No. Don’t think about that now. Think about your daughter.

He takes short strides as we make our way across the rink.

“I can skate,” Macie protests.

“I’m sure you can,” Greer says.

“I want to have you checked out first,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes.

Any other time, I’d chastise her, but not right now. Not when she looks so small and frail in Greer’s arms.

When we finally step off the ice, we head down a carpeted tunnel and make a right. There are all kinds of equipment strewn about: helmets, sticks, stacks of pucks. Photos and plaques line the walls as we make our way down the hall, shouts coming from all directions and loud music playing as we pass what looks like a gym. It definitely feels like a sports atmosphere.

We turn into an office, and I’m surprised to see someone up on the table in the middle of the room.

“Collin!”

He looks up from whatever the doctor is doing to his leg and grins. “Oh, hey. What’s going on?” He looks down at Macie in Greer’s arms. “Everything okay?”

He’s asking Greer, not me.

“She’s fine, but mom’s worried.”

“I’m worried because she’s my kid.”

“Oh, I’m aware. You are two peas in a damn pod,” Greer mutters, shuffling said kid around.

“Learning to skate?” Collin asks Macie.

“Yes, and I’m fine.” She stretches the word out, completely annoyed with me.

I get it. She could be okay…but she could also not be okay and just not want to say anything. It’s my duty as her mother to have her checked out, even if it’s against her will.

“Where can I set her, Doc?”

The doctor tucks his lips together, raises his brows, and nods toward the other unoccupied table. “Over there is fine.” He looks at Collin. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Collin, who also looks like he’s about two seconds away from laughing, says, “It’s fine. Take your time. I’m avoiding Harper right now anyway.”

“What for?” Greer asks as he sets Macie down. “I thought you two were all stupid in love.”

“Oh, we are. Like stupid, stupid in love, but she wants me to model this new design she’s working on, and it’s painful. How actors do it, getting all covered in makeup, prosthetics, and whatever else for hours and hours…I don’t get it. I’d rather get slammed into the boards by Milan Lucic every single day than sit through that shit.”

“Dude, Lucic is a beast.”

“Exactly my point,” Collin says.

The doctor stops in front of Macie, looking down at her. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Just my ego.”

“Oh, you’re definitely hockey player material with that one.” He laughs, then points to her legs. “May I?”

She nods, and the doctor spends the next five minutes going over every part of her body, checking for bumps, bruises, and anything else I can think of.

“You didn’t hit your head, right?”

“No.”

“You’re lucky.” The doctor frowns over at Greer. “Though next time, maybe wear a helmet?”

Greer pales, his hand going to his stomach like he’s about to puke. It’s the same way I feel seeing my kid lying on the cold, sterile bed.

“Yeah. Next time,” he mutters.

“Next time?” It comes out a squeak, and even I hear the panic in my own voice. All the eyes in the room are on me, including Macie’s, whose baby blues look about twice their normal size.

“Well.” The doctor claps his hands together. “Everything looks good to me. You may be a little sore tomorrow—especially that ego—but everything looks fine. Perfectly healthy.”

“Really?” I ask.

The doctor nods. “Really.”

I take my first real breath in minutes and let out a slow, steady exhale of relief.

She’s okay. She’s going to be okay.

I look down at Macie, who is staring up at me with worried eyes.

“I told you so,” she says defiantly, though the bite her words usually carry is missing.

“Yeah, you did,” I say quietly. I grab a strand of her hair, the same color as mine, running it through my fingers while I let my heart calm down. “You’re okay.”

I’m not saying it to her; I’m saying it for me.

She’s okay. She’s going to be okay.

If I keep repeating it, then it’s true.

“Can I go back out there now?”

My heart begins to hammer in my chest again, and I see her crumpled on the ice all over. The panic that races through me is unlike anything else. I hate it. I hate it so much I want to scream.

But before I can, Greer steps up.

“I think we should call it a day.”

“But—”

“Hey, life ain’t all about you, kid. I have my own shit to take care of.”

I want to yell at him for cursing in front of my kid, but I don’t have it in me. I’m just too glad she’s okay.

“Fine,” Macie mutters. Then she looks up at me. “Can we go, then?”

“Yes. And we’re getting ice cream on the way home.”

“Okay.” I’ve never heard her be less enthused about ice cream before. “I’m going to go put my shoes back on.”

I nod as she hops off the table. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She walks out of the room and down the hall. I watch her until she disappears around the corner toward the ice.

She won’t go on it. I know her well enough to know she won’t risk getting in trouble like that.

“You good?”

I whirl back around to replace Greer staring at me. Collin too. The doctor isn’t paying any attention.

“I’m fine,” I tell Greer.

He tips his head to the side, his lips twisted as he studies me. After what feels like hours under his hot stare, he rights his head and nods.

“Okay.”

Then he brushes past me and out the door without another word.

“I think what he meant to say was he’s sorry Macie got hurt,” Collin says.

I let out a half-huff, half-laugh. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant at all.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you, Collin. Really.” I shoot him a smile, then give the doctor a wave.

I knew this whole thing with Greer was a mistake, and today really proved me right.

Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do next.

“So she’s done?” Scout asks quietly.

I look out at my daughter, who is sitting at her favorite picnic table after a long, grueling day at school. She has her nose back in that same hockey book as before, only this time, she looks a lot less excited to be reading it.

“She’s done.”

This morning as she sat on her favorite barstool eating her favorite breakfast—waffles with peanut butter—she announced that she no longer wants to play hockey.

It broke my heart all over again to see her shoulders drop and her chin wobble when she said it. I asked her if she was sure, and she nodded. I wasn’t going to push the subject anymore, so I did what I do every morning: I drove her to school with SportsCenter playing on the radio, kissed her goodbye, and went to work.

She hasn’t said a word since I picked her up.

“That’s just…sad. She loves the game so much.”

“She’s still going to watch,” I tell Scout. “But not play.”

Scout frowns. “It’s not the same, I’m sure.”

“Probably not, but it’s what she said she wants.”

“I still can’t believe she fell.”

“Oh man, Scout. It was awful. I’ve never been so scared. I don’t know how you watch Miller play knowing it’s your heart out there on the ice like that.”

She shrugs, her favorite well-worn overalls slipping off her shoulders a bit. She tugs them back up. “It’s not always easy, but you have to remember that they love the game. It’s what makes them happy. It’s what drives them. They need it.”

“Yeah…” I cast one last look at Macie just as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out, and my lips shift into a frown when I see what’s on the screen.

King of Hell: Are you avoiding me?

“You okay?” Scout asks.

“It’s Greer. He’s worried I’m avoiding him because I haven’t answered him about Macie’s next training session.”

“You haven’t told him yet?”

I shake my head. “No. She just told me this morning that she doesn’t want to play again. I haven’t had a chance to get in touch with him.”

“Still so weird to see you two getting along.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say.

“No? I mean, he’s training your kid. That’s getting along.”

“Was—he was training my kid. So now we have no reason to play nice.”

Me: She doesn’t want to play anymore.

King of Hell: Seriously?

Me: Yeah. Sorry to have wasted your time.

King of Hell: SERIOUSLY?!

Me: I’ll still be your date if that’s what you’re worried about.

“I don’t give a shit about the date.”

I jump, and my phone goes sailing out of my hand, landing on the floor of the donut truck with a loud clamor.

“Well, I do, but I have other worries too.”

I pick up my phone, immediately annoyed that my worst fear has come true—it’s cracked.

“Great,” I mutter, pushing up to my feet, only to be met with Greer standing just on the other side of the counter. “Were you texting me from the parking lot?”

“Yes.”

“Why? That’s creepy.”

“I wanted to know why you were avoiding me.”

“I’m not.”

He lifts his dark, heavy brows as if to say, Really? I call bullshit.

Yeah, I call bullshit too. I was totally avoiding him.

“Hey, Greer,” Scout says.

“Lady Miller,” he answers, and my sister giggles like a little schoolgirl.

It’s annoying, but mostly because Greer is annoying.

“What do you want?” I ask the goalie, hoping whatever it is, I can get it for him and make him leave faster.

“I’m not here for the food. I have a game tonight.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because…” He looks over his shoulder at Macie, who is trying very hard to pretend she’s actually reading the book in her hands and not listening to our conversation.

Note to self: My kid would make a terrible actress.

Greer leans in closer to the truck and quietly asks, “Why doesn’t she want to play again? Because of the fall?”

I nod. “I think so.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Greer!” I hiss at him. “She’s ten. Leave her alone.”

“Well, I’m just saying. That’s bullshit. I know she wants to play.”

“She’s scared.”

He narrows his eyes, giving me that same annoying hard stare he gave me yesterday, the one that made me squirm and want to be anywhere but under his gaze.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Why?”

“Because.”

I sigh, not in the mood to deal with his crap. “Be my guest, but she’s not very talkative today.”

“Hmm.” It’s all he says before he stalks away, going straight for the table Macie’s sitting at.

Watching him try to tuck his long legs in is almost comical, but the look on his face is anything but. He seems serious, even more serious than Greer usually is, and that’s saying something.

“What’s going on?” Scout asks, nodding toward them.

“He wanted to talk to her.”

“What for?”

I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“They’re both wearing the same frown. It’s adorable,” Scout says.

She’s right. They are both frowning, and they’re taking turns shooting quick glances this way. It’s clear they’re talking about me. Or us.

Whatever it is, it’s quiet, and neither of them is giving away much of anything. It’s taking everything I have in me to stay rooted in the cute baby blue truck and not march out there and demand to be part of the conversation.

After what seems like hours, Greer finally pushes away from the table and comes back up to the truck.

“It’s you,” he says quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“The reason she doesn’t want to play anymore—it’s you.”

“What!”

“Shh!” Greer says. “Lower your voice.” He peeks back over his shoulder to see if Macie is watching. Naturally, she is. He sends her a wave, then glowers back at me. “Way to keep that causal and not suspicious at all.”

“Hey, you were talking about me first.”

“Yeah, because your kid is afraid to confide in you because she doesn’t want you going all mom on her.”

“Going all mom?”

He shrugs. “That’s what she called it.”

“That’s…”

“Probably accurate,” Scout says, joining in on the conversation.

I whip my head her way. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Sorry.” My younger sister winces. “But it’s true. I’m betting your reaction to the fall was worse than Macie actually hitting the ice. She probably doesn’t want to scare you again. So even though she loves the game, she’s saying she doesn’t want to play so she doesn’t upset you.”

Greer points his finger at her. “Bingo.”

“What? That’s just…”

My words trail off as I look out at my daughter. She’s watching us, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, a look of worry etched across her face. It’s that same look she gave me in the doctor’s office yesterday when he got done checking her out. She wasn’t scared because she fell. She was scared because she thought she wasn’t going to be able to play again.

“True,” I finish. “That’s just true.”

Greer sighs. “You need to tell her it’s okay to play.”

“But…how?”

“I’m not a mom, so I can’t answer that for you. Look,” he says, grabbing a pen from the cup on the counter, then a napkin. He scribbles something down and shoves it my way. “I have to get to the arena, but take this.”

“What is it?” I ask, picking up the napkin and looking at it. “A phone number?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Call that number. Ask for advice. She’ll give it to you.”

“Who is it?”

“Someone with a lot of experience going through what you are right now.”

I stare down at the number he’s scrawled. “Okay…”

“Call,” he instructs, his voice stern. He sends a wave to Scout. “Lady Miller.”

My sister giggles again, but I don’t even have it in me to be annoyed this time. I’m too enamored with the mysterious phone number.

“Later, kid,” I hear Greer say to Macie as he walks past her.

She watches him cross the parking lot to his car, all the while a longing gaze settling into her eyes. She wants to play hockey with him badly, and I want her to be happy…and safe.

Macie sits there watching the lot, not moving until I tell her it’s time to go. She doesn’t say anything on the car ride home or when we make it into our apartment. She doesn’t speak through dinner or even attempt to turn on the game, which I know she knows is on because she’s Macie, she loves hockey, and she has the Comets schedule memorized.

When she goes to bed without asking what the score is, I know she’s truly bummed. I kiss her forehead, tuck her in for the night, and then make my way to the kitchen, where I pour a glass of wine before stepping out onto our small patio.

With a steadying breath, I punch in the number as best I can on my shattered screen and put the phone up to my ear. It rings twice before someone picks up.

“Hello?” A soft feminine voice comes over the line.

“Um…hi.” I let out a long breath. “This is going to sound weird, but Greer gave me your number. See, my kid wants to learn to play hockey, and he’s agreed to train her. Yesterday, though, on her first day, she fell. I freaked, and now my kid won’t play. He said you may have some insight.”

The woman chuckles. “Well, all right, then. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Stevie.”

“Nicks?”

“The one and only.”

She laughs. “Look, Stevie, I’ve been in the same boat as you. I remember the first time Jacob took a spill on the ice. I threw a huge fit and made them stop practicing while I called an ambulance for him. He was fine, of course, just a little bruised, but it scared the shit out of me. Us moms never want to see our babies hurting, you know?” She sighs. “He told me afterward that he never wanted to play hockey again. At first, I was relieved. I loved the idea of my kid not getting hurt. But then I realized he didn’t want to play because I scared him, not the game. He loved it. He belonged on that ice. It meant everything to him. My freak-out hurt him worse than falling ever did.”

“What’d you do?”

“I took his scrawny little ass to the next practice and made him play.”

I laugh. “I can’t imagine him being scrawny.”

Greer’s so big now, easily topping six four. He’s still lean, but if the way his shirts cling to him is anything to go off, it’s all muscle.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart. He was. A mouthy little shit, too, though he hasn’t grown out of that yet.”

She lets out another breathy laugh, and for some reason, I can just picture her sitting outside like me, but instead of a glass of wine in her hand, it’s a cigarette. She’s an older version of Greer, all dark hair and bright eyes, only instead of frowning at the entire world, she smiles constantly.

The image makes me giggle.

“What’s that for?” she asks, not missing it.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about your son.”

“Are you soft on him?”

“Excuse me?”

“My son. I assume you are if you’re calling his mom.”

“Oh. Um, I’m his date for your wedding. Congratulations, by the way. I’m really looking forward to it.” I sincerely hope she doesn’t have that weird I know when I’m being lied to thing moms seem to have.

“Aw, thanks, sugar. I’m sure my son isn’t too happy to be attending yet another wedding of mine.”

“That’s not true. He’s very excited.”

She lets out another raucous laugh. “You don’t need to lie for him, but I appreciate it. Makes me like you more. You said you have a daughter? I’m surprised you’re dating my son, then. He’s not really fond of kids.”

I want to correct her and tell her I’m definitely not dating her son, but I just let it go for now.

“He’s great with Macie.” I take a sip of my wine to swallow down the lie.

All right, so it’s not a complete lie. They do seem to be getting along better now than before. They have a weird relationship, but if it means she’s not calling him The Jackass every five minutes, I’ll take it.

“Well, I’m glad. Maybe he’s growing up some, settling down instead of being so stubborn about love. Though I’m sure I’m to blame for that one.” She chuckles, but there’s no sweetness to it like there was before. Instead, it’s pure sadness. I want to reach through the phone and hug her. “Anyhoo, enough about me. We’re talking about you and your kiddo. Tell me what happened.”

So I do. I describe the fall Macie took and how my heart climbed into my throat and hasn’t really left. How Macie is moping around, feeling down, and how helpless I feel about everything.

When I’m done, the woman sighs. “Oh, Stevie, sweetheart. It’ll all be all right. I’ve been a hockey mom for a long time now. It’s hard. I know that, but we have to let our kids figure their stuff out, you know? If she wants this—and it sounds like she does—you have to let her have it. She’ll be okay. Goalies wear lots of gear, you know.”

A weight that’s been slowly settling onto my shoulders begins to lift as her words sink in. She’s right. I know she is.

“I have to let her do this.”

“You do, and I have full faith in you and her. If my son is willing to give up his free time to help her, he must see something in her.”

I don’t want to burst her bubble and tell her the only reason he agreed to train Macie was that I would be his date, so I don’t.

“Yeah, he must.”

“Well, listen, sweetheart, I’m going to get going. Us older ladies need all the beauty sleep we can get, and I’m sure you still have lots to think about tonight.”

“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me… Well, shoot. I never even asked you your name.”

“It’s Loretta.”

“Lynn?” I tease.

“The one and only.” She gives me another one of those laughs that I’m really starting to love. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Loretta.”

I hang up the phone, then set it on my belly, lifting my wineglass to my lips and taking the final sip. I stare at the moon while I do exactly what Loretta said I would—I worry. I mull over every word of our conversation, then replay Macie falling.

It’s going to be tough letting my only baby do something that almost guarantees she’s going to come home bruised or broken.

But…I know what I have to do.

Me: I want her to play.

Me: Call me tomorrow?

King of Hell: You got it.