Page 50 of Pucking Forbidden

Rylee points at me. “Hadley’s on board with the rest of us.”

The conversation shifts from weddings to babies, and Rylee announces, “I’m thinking about going back to work. Part-time to start, maybe. Then ramp back up to full-time.”

Stacey blinks, pausing mid-sip. “Wait, did you finally lock down the child care situation? Last I heard, you were still playing phone tag.”

“I actually just talked to her yesterday,” Rylee says, a relieved smile breaking across her face. “Your sitter’s referral came through. She connected me with a girl named Mia, and she’s amazing. We’re doing a trial run next week.”

“Oh, thank God,” Stacey says, letting out a breath and leaning back. “I told you my girl wouldn't steer you wrong. Having someone you actually trust makes the transition back to work a million times easier.”

“I love being a mom,” Rylee adds, glancing down at Ciara with an expression of pure love. “I just don’t want to give up my career.”

“You don’t have to,” Skyler insists. “You can do both. You’ve got a village behind you, mama!”

Rylee gives her a grateful smile, then turns to me.

“How are you doing, Hadley?” she asks. “How’s school going? Are things better now that you’re here?”

“Not really,” I admit. The room seems to shift, the ambient noise of the house fading as the attention turns toward me. I feel exposed, suddenly very conscious of how young and unmoored I sound. “I’m still miserable, but being back here really does help. It’s just that I don’t like my major at all. The location really doesn’t change that. I hate it, and it feels like I’m just waking up every day to read about a world I don’t want to live in. At least now I’m able to enjoy my life outside of school, so that’s a definite improvement.”

I look down at my hands, gripping my sparkling water so tightly my knuckles turn white. The anger burns hot in my throat, mixed with a deep, exhausting sense of powerlessness.

“I want to be independent. I want to feel like an actual adult who can make her own choices, but how am I supposed to do that when I can’t even get him to listen to me? If I change my major, or if I drop out, he might never speak to me again. I can’t…I can’t stand the thought of disappointing him.”

I stop, my throat tight, suddenly feeling very small in a room full of women who have built their own lives.

“That sucks,” Grace mutters.

“It does,” I agree.

“Millie’s rink is hiring,” Stacey says.

I blink. “What?”

“It’s just part-time,” she continues. “But it could be something to help you get a little more independence.”

I stare at her for a long moment, feeling like she’s just spoken some incredible revelation. “My dad has never let me work. He always says it takes focus away from my studies.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t,” Skyler says. “Last time I checked, your dad doesn’t legally own your brain. If you want to rebel, Hadley, stop asking for his permission to do it.”

I hesitate another moment as I turn the idea over and over in my head.

Grace appears thoughtful for a moment. “It could show your Dad that you can be independent. That you can do both work and succeed in school.”

“Exactly,” Stacey nods.

“Or,” I add, the heavy reality of my father’s possible reaction fully setting in, “it could make him really mad. Like, nuclear option mad. If I push him too far, he could end up cutting off the rent and forcing me to move in with Grandpa… or worse, move back in with him.”

Skyler grins. “Well, Carson still has his old apartment. He actually had to renew the lease because so many people have stayed there. He decided not to give it up, just in case.”

“The Night Hawks stopover,” Grace chuckles. “You could totally move in there, and it’d be one less thing your Dad can hold over you.”

I laugh, shaking my head. I’m definitely tempted by the idea, and I’m so grateful all these women are so willing to try and help. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“Are we wrong?” Grace presses.

“No,” I admit. “But still…”

I trail off, my gaze drifting back to where Henry is contentedly banging his plastic cup against the rug. I think about it for a few moments, letting the silence stretch as I weigh the possibility of defying my father against the slow suffocation of staying exactly where I am.