Page 66 of Pucking Forbidden

Her whole expression softens.

“My dad’s mom. She was always there. She took care of me while Dad went through law school. Once he realized in college that he wasn't going to get drafted to go pro, he flipped a switch and went full-throttle into law. Grandpa was there too, of course, but he was busy with coaching, so it was just me and Grandma a lot of the time. She encouraged me to skate when I was old enough, and I never doubted that she’d be there for me…until she wasn’t.”

“What happened?” I know Coach Sullivan is a widower, and has been for a while, but he never really talks about his late wife. I always got the sense it was too painful for him.

“She died when I was in middle school,” she whispers. “Heart attack just…out of the blue. No one saw it coming.”

Damn…that’s awful. I can’t imagine what I’d do if that happened to Mrs. Clay. It would flip my whole world upside down, and I’m not sure I’d ever be able to right it again.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

She gives me a small smile. “Thanks. It was a long time ago.” Then, clearly wanting to shift the conversation away from herself, she asks, “What about you? What’s your family like?”

The moment the word family leaves her mouth, a dark feeling washes over me. My jaw tightens, the familiar, bitter tension coiling in my gut before I can stop it. I pull my gaze away for a split second, staring down at the island. When I manage to look back at Hadley, I see genuine curiosity and softness in her eyes. The tension eases just enough for me to breathe. I lean forward, resting my forearms on the cool surface, choosing to bypass my actual blood relatives entirely to dive straight into the one person who actually matters.

“I had Mrs. Clay for most of my childhood,” I explain in a rough voice. “She lived next door to me when I was growing up. She looked out for me when…when things at home weren’t so great.”

If she’s confused why I’m not talking about my actual family, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she grins. “I like her already.”

“Yeah,” I nod, a small breath of a laugh slipping out. “Most people do.”

I swirl my fork through the last of the rich cream sauce before taking another bite. I chew slowly before setting the fork down with a quiet clink against the ceramic bowl.

“She’s the one who kept me in the game,” I continue, picking up my water glass and taking a sip. “I always had a talent for it, and I loved the sport, but…”

The word dies in my throat.

Thoughts of my father trigger a violent, unbidden rush of memory, the jagged edges of my nightmares bleeding into my waking world. My jaw locks so hard my teeth ache. Beneath the edge of the table, my hands curl into tight, white-knuckled fists, my fingernails biting deep into my palms as I desperately fight to slam the heavy iron doors shut on the past before it completely swallows me whole.

Before the silence can stretch into a canyon, I feel a small, warm hand sliding directly over my clenched fist.

“She stepped in,” Hadley murmurs.

Her voice is a steady, gentle lifeline pulling me back from the brink. When I finally force my gaze up to look at her, there is no pity in her eyes, no demanding curiosity, and absolutely no judgment. There are no questions in her gaze, only a quiet understanding that tells me she already knows the blank spaces are filled with horrors, and she doesn't need me to bleed to prove it.

“Was she strict?” Hadley asks, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and empathy.

“Hell yeah, she was,” I admit, a smirk curling my lips. “She’d threaten to keep me out of the rink if I got anything less than a B.”

Hadley’s expression softens. “Wow. That’s pretty amazing.”

I nodded, warmth unfurling in my chest. I stand up, feeling the need to move, and start clearing away the plates. Hadley helps, and when we’re done, we move into the living room and turn on the TV. We find Good Will Hunting playing, and it becomes background noise as we focus back in on each other.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TOO CLOSE

JULIAN

“Tell me more about Mrs. Clay,” she urges.

“She started taking me to practice after that,” I explain, relaxing against the couch. “Games, too. Sat in the same spot every time. Yelled at the refs like she knew what she was talking about.”

Hadley laughs under her breath. “Did she?”

“Not even a little,” I chuckle. “It didn’t stop her.”

“She sounds amazing,” Hadley softly says.

“Yeah, she is,” I agree. “She kind of just… filled in the gaps in my life where things were missing.”