“Hi, Mom.”
“Char-char, how’s my baby girl?”
“I’m good.” I prop the phone on my shoulder, dump a handful of marshmallows into my hot chocolate, and head for the living room. “How are you?”
“Fantastic. Just wonderful! I can’t talk long because I’m in between clients, but I wanted to let you know I’ll be in town next week.”
I sit up straighter, fingers of unease raking down my spine and slithering lower. It’s such an uncomfortable feeling, especially when I’m talking to my mom. “In Chicago? When?”
“Probably not until later in the week. I’ll know more soon, but I want to spend some time with you! I haven’t seen my baby in almost a year, and I miss you. Oh! And I have some new fun things for you, too! Early birthday presents and such. You’ll be around? I know sometimes you travel for work.”
I hold in my sigh of relief. Darren leaves for the first two away games of the playoffs in a couple of days, so I don’t have to worry about my mom being in town at the same time he is. So far I’ve been lucky that her infrequent visits have coincided nicely with his away games.
Also, I don’t actually travel for work, but sometimes I go to away games with Violet when they’re on the weekends or we can get a day off, especially on the long stretches when the guys are gone for more than a week. It’s nice to break up the separation a little. I don’t talk to my mom about relationships since she’s very much against them. She hasn’t had a real boyfriend since we left The Ranch, and that was over a decade ago.
“That would be great. What’s in Chicago, other than me?” My mom wouldn’t just come for the sake of visiting me. It’s not that she doesn’t love me—she does—but her life is . . . strange. She doesn’t stay in the same place for long, moving around the country and refusing to set down any roots. She’s not designed for parenting, something I learned once we left The Ranch. She’s really good at a few things: getaways, making candies, and being a career Dominatrix.
“I have a work conference. It should be a lot of fun. Oh! My five o’clock is here! I’ll call you when I’m in town.”
“Okay. Oh, and Mom?”
“Yes, Char-char?”
“Can you bring me more candies? I’m almost out.”
“Of course, honey. I’ll bring lots.”
I end the call and flop back on the couch. It’s close to dinnertime, but I don’t feel like making anything. I wonder what Darren’s doing now. For the first time ever, I consider what it would be like to have someone to come home to, how I might like to curl up in that reading chair in Darren’s living room and wait for him to walk through the door.
Sometimes I think it might be nice to be less independent and not quite so afraid of being trapped in someone’s jar.DARREN
Practice is tense, as expected. I follow Alex to the sauna and drop down on the bench. Half the team is in here, and most of them are talking about the upcoming playoff game against Nashville. Not knowing who’s safe and who isn’t only adds to the stress.
After a while, the sauna clears out until it’s me, Alex, Miller, Randy, Lance, and Rookie.
“So . . .” Rookie slaps his bare thighs. “You and your girl get freaky, huh?”
Of course he’s the one to start off the conversation.
I shrug. “I guess it depends on your definition of freaky.”
“Whatever floats your boat, right?” Miller glances nervously at Lance when he scoffs.
I don’t know his whole story, only bits and pieces from time spent with him. But based on his previous on-ice behavior, his penchant for fights, his occasional destructive meltdowns, and his former reputation with women, I can take a stab in the dark.
I wonder if the ability to intuit brokenness in other people is a sixth sense only other damaged people are privy to. Like me and Charlene. Sometimes the most broken souls find each other, as if their missing pieces exist in another person. It doesn’t matter what form the abuse takes. The holes it leaves in the psyche fracture the soul, too. It probably accounts in part for my instant attraction to Charlene. She’s guarded and open at the same time. I might want more from her, but I won’t take it at the risk of pushing her too far and losing her entirely.
“As long as you’re both into it, it’s cool, yeah? Consenting adults and all that.” Randy runs his fingers through his beard thoughtfully. “Do you buy Charlene’s lingerie, or does she do the shopping?”
I try not to envision all the lace and satin and leather we left in the living room last night. “I buy the lace, she buys the leather.”