Hockey With Benefits(101)

She was in my college life.

I was hiding out in a laundromat because of her.

Cruz tugged on my hand until he wasn’t just holding my pinkie, or my hand. He reached over, lifted me up so I was on his lap. He wrapped his arms around me, propping his chin on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

Maybe. Probably not, though.

“I hate when she would say she was going to kill herself. I hated it so much.” A last wall broke in me, and the tears started. I looked down, unable to see him seeing me because it was too real. Too raw. I was too exposed. Those tears were slow. I’d been through so much because of her that it was hard for her to make me cry, but this, in regard to this subject, I’d cry all day long.

“That’s real. That’s a tragedy. If someone says it, you believe them. You just do. You don’t ever mess with that, but she did. It’s the one go-to she can use that I will respond every time. I have to, because if I don’t, what if she’s not twisting it? Her doctors and her psychologists and her therapists, and her psychiatrists tell me that typically with her disorder, she won’t go through with it, but when’s the line? There’s not a line with that, not that. Someone says it, they get believed. It’s my rule. Because if you don’t… If you don’t believe it one time… When does her one disorder converge into another and that one, they do this. She does this. When’s that call coming? And I can’t do anything, like anything. I go to her, and she uses me up, over and over again until I’m the one who–” I stopped myself, choking back a sob. “Until I’m the one who’s thinking about it. But I’m the bad guy. I am. I can’t get away, and I can’t give enough. It’s never enough. It’s never–and I’m trapped and here she is, in this life now. This was mine. Just mine, and she got in here. Again.” I looked up, half seeing him through the tears. “But I love her, and I wish I didn’t, and I wish I could just not care. But I do. I do, and no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I never want to get the call that she’s gone because then she’s gone and she’s the only mother I have.”

“Baby.” I heard the tenderness in his tone, but I couldn’t see it. I looked down, my eyes swimming, and he pressed a hand to my temple, pulling me close to him. He kissed my forehead, smoothing my hair down, and held me. “I’m sorry, Mara. I’m so sorry.”

He held me, and right then, that was enough. There was nothing to say.

Him talking shit about my mom? I didn’t need that. I thought enough shit about her. He understood. He got it, and that was the takeaway here for me.

I got him. I got someone who understood.

We stayed like that for a while until Cruz asked, “Let me do some things for you.”

“Like what?” I looked up to see him now.

Man, oh man. His hair was messed up, and I frowned. “Didn’t you shower?”

He laughed, but in a whoosh, he stood up, lifting me with him. He held me for a moment until I got my bearings, then set me down. He smoothed my hair down once more, his eyes all serious, and he held up a hand. “I’d like to be the one to call your dad about your mom’s latest thing. I can tell him about the blogger, and exactly the channels we have to go through to get her stuff removed.”

“He’s going to know you’re my boyfriend.”

He grinned, slowly. “Is that a bad thing?”

I swallowed over a knot. “Uh, that’s meeting the parents. That’s a big thing. A big commitment deal.”

“I think it’ll be fine.”

“What are some of the other things you mentioned?”

“I need to let some people know that I found you and that you’re okay. A whole bunch of people were looking for you.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t–I didn’t mean for that to happen, for them to worry about me.”

He traced a tender hand down the side of my face, smoothing my hair down again, and drew me back to his chest. “I know, but despite your efforts to keep people at bay, you’ve failed horribly, and people care. I also don’t think you need to worry about people judging you about your mom.”

I started to shrug, but he stopped me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

He added, “I mean it. You have people, and some are louder than others. It’ll get blasted that the whole interview was a setup. Your mom’s truth doesn’t need to come out, but we’ll change the narrative. Let me do that for you.”

I’d had my dad in my corner, as much as he could be, as much as I would let him when I was a kid and when she had custody over me. Then I had a nurse from Fallen Crest and a cop. Now I had Cruz.

A softness came over me. “Yes. I’d really, really, really like that.”

“Good.” He leaned down, his lips finding mine. He was kissing me tenderly, delicately, gently.

“Gotta warn you also, we’ve had an audience the whole time.” He indicated the door.

Atwater and Barclay were there, both grinning and both waving.

Atwater said, “Heya, Mara. The tear-stricken look agrees with you. You can cry more around us, you know.”

I shook my head. “Shut up.” Atwater enveloped me in a big hug right away, lifting me off my feet.

Barclay was next, and he added, more quieter during our hug, “We got your back. Angela has your back. All your friends have your back. I’m sure your boy told you, but it’s going to be okay.”