Shane’s face actually lights up and he bobs his head in gratitude. “Thanks, man. That’s really generous.”
“No worries,” I reply genially, but seriously… that’s all up to Emory if she’ll even let Shane take Felicity to a game. I won’t push her either way, but I’ll gladly provide the tickets and tour if Emory feels comfortable with it. Throwing my head toward my car, I say, “I’ve got to get going or I’m going to be late for practice.”
Sticking my hand out again, we shake farewell, and I don’t look back as I leave Shane behind. I’ll text Emory later to find out why he stopped by, but I expect he’s testing boundaries to see what he can get away with.
While Emory welcomed me in happily this morning—I’m sure having nothing to do with the fact I was bearing croissants and donuts—I don’t think she’ll be as accommodating to Shane just dropping by.
I drive to the arena in a mood that’s hard to describe. I feel like I’m walking on air or something, and I imagine it’s a combination of things. I always get pumped up before a game, but that’s pure adrenaline-fueled competitiveness that lights me up. There’s something softer though surrounding that hyped-up feeling, and I’d almost say it’s like a balm.
Maybe a knowledge that my life has become richer, that I have someone by my side who cares for me in a way I’ve not been cared for before, and even a bit of hope within me that things will just continue to get better.
As I enter the locker room to get dressed for our morning skate, I keep all of that to myself. If I start mooning over Emory the way Kane does over his wedding plans, I’ll never hear the end of it from the guys, even those who have each fallen hopelessly in love lately.
CHAPTER 22
Emory
“I can’t fucking stand this,” I mutter as I lean against the kitchen sink, chewing at my thumbnail nervously. My eyes are pinned on Felicity, kneeling on the couch, her belly pressed against the back and her hands holding back the curtains as she stares expectantly out the window for her father—I glance down at my watch—who is now officially twenty minutes late.
“Call him again,” Jenna advises softly. She’s as worried as I am, pacing back and forth.
Nabbing the phone off the counter, I dial Shane’s number. It rings twice and goes straight to voice mail.
This is Shane. Leave a message.
“Shane,” I hiss into the phone so Felicity can’t hear me, partially turning my body toward the sink. “Where in the hell are you? You’re late and now we’re all starting to get worried. Call me.”
I disconnect the call, glance over my shoulder to see my daughter still eagerly awaiting her father, and make a quick decision. My fingers fly over the screen of my smartphone as I pull up Safari and google the hotel Shane is staying at. Using the call link, I dial the number.
“The Orion,” I young male answers the phone. “How may I help you?”
“Yes,” I say distractedly, because at that moment, Felicity’s head swivels and she looks back at me. Her expression is no longer excited but tinged with worry.
“Ma’am?” I hear and I jerk my eyes away.
“Yes, sorry,” I say into the phone, making my voice crisp and professional. “Can you please connect me to Shane Kelly’s room?”
“Just a minute,” the man replies, and I hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Kelly checked out this morning.”
“He… what?” I stammer.
“It appears he checked out this morning,” the man repeats.
My eyes snap to Jenna who’s watching me with raised eyebrows. I disconnect the call without a farewell to the helpful clerk, my body feeling slightly numb.
“He checked out of his hotel,” I whisper to her.
“Was he planning on it?” Jenna asks, cutting a glance at Felicity who is once again looking out the window.
“No,” I say harshly. “His parents had paid for it up through the end of the month.”
Because Shane’s parents do everything for him, especially once he became addicted to drugs. I blame them for a good chunk of his inability to stick to rehab because they were always enabling him. Letting him check out early and come home, paying for his rent, and a car because he couldn’t hold a job.
“Shit,” I curse low under my breath, and dial Shane again. When his voice mail message ends and I hear a beep, I’m so furious I can barely speak. “You goddamn motherfucker. Your daughter is here waiting for you to take her to a dance and you’re probably off with a needle stuck in your arm somewhere, aren’t you?”
My eyes fixate on Jenna, because I can’t bear to look at my daughter with her face nearly pressed to the window waiting for her dad. I take in a stuttering breath and let it out, not sure how much time I have left on the voice message. “Shane… we’re done with you. You couldn’t even make it a month since you got out of rehab before the lure of drugs was more important than your daughter. If you’re still in the Phoenix area, which I doubt, don’t bother coming back here. You’re officially not allowed to see Felicity.”
I jab the disconnect button viciously and tears well in my eyes. Jenna’s hand comes to my shoulder, lays there ever so softly. With the hand holding my phone, I turn it and wipe it over my eyes, dispelling any liquid before it can fall.
“Maybe he moved to a new hotel and he’s running late,” Jenna suggests weakly.
I shake my head adamantly. “No. He’s using again. I know the signs. Not showing up for something important, refusing to answer the phone. I’m not surprised really… not after yesterday.”
Jenna nods but she wasn’t here to witness it. She only heard about it second hand from me, but after Jett had left—the taste of butter croissants still on my tongue—Shane had shown up wanting to walk Felicity to school.
I wasn’t cool with him just showing up unannounced like that, but with great effort I put Felicity above those harsh feelings, knowing she’d love to have her dad walk with her to school.
Except, after I swallowed my ire and told Shane it was fine to take her, he didn’t seem to want to go.
He wanted to sit around, eat my croissants and talk about how I’d moved on with Jett. It was wholly inappropriate to talk to me about that, much less in front of Felicity. I told Felicity to go brush her teeth and grab her school bag, and in that minute and a half she was gone, I laid into Shane.
Not screaming crazy, because I didn’t want Felicity to see me that way even if I felt it, but I made sure that there was absolute clarity about the situation.
He and I were no more.
I had moved on a long time ago, and he needed to do the same.
I reiterated he was welcome to have a place in Felicity’s life but he was not welcome to come and go around my house as he pleased.
Shane was apologetic. He said I was right and that he was being intrusive.
He said all the right things, and deep down… I knew he’d been crushed by what I’d said. That no matter how many years had elapsed since we were together, or the fact he killed any love I ever had for him, or that I’ve been clear since the day I separated from him that it was over for good, he still had some expectation.