Line Change, page 9
“Uh-oh, is there trouble in paradise?” Millie continues.
“He’s just busy. His dad made him head of his own team and they’re working on this huge project. There’s some kind of town council meeting taking place in a few weeks and Adam has to prepare the whole thing. Hopefully when it’s done, he’ll have more time. Besides, I’m going home at Thanksgiving, so I’ll be able to spend some time with him then.”
“And Mr. Broody? What about him?”
“What about him?” I say and as soon as I’ve said it, I realize it comes out a bit snappy.
Millie doesn’t take the bait and continues. “Do we need to get a costume for him, too?”
“I doubt it. He probably doesn’t even realize we’re having a party, since he’s never at home. I don’t know, Mills, my time thinking about Kyler Rose is over. He can do his own thing, which is fine by me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“What? Yes, of course I am. I’m fine with it,” I quickly tell her.
“Sure, okay. You keep telling yourself that Ross,” she says, referring to the episode of Friends we watched the other night where Ross insists he’s fine with Rachel and Joey dating when he clearly isn’t. “In the meantime, I’ll just be here, waiting to hear what you truly want to say about Kyler Rose.”
“There’s honestly nothing to say. He’s never at home, I don’t see him much on campus. He’s a ghost who ghosts people. So, fine. One less mouth to feed and worry about.”
Except it’s not, because I still make enough food for him and plate up a portion every night, even though the majority of the time the plate goes untouched, and the food goes to waste.
I don’t say anything further for fear of saying too much and giving Millie the wrong idea. We wait for the shop assistant to bag all our costumes and hand them over to us after we’ve paid. Once finished, we buy a few decorations for the house, and some plastic bowls for the candy we’ll have for trick or treaters. The guys are in charge of buying those, and no doubt they’ll have gone to town in Walmart buying the special Halloween bags they always have on sale.
We decide to have some lunch at the mall before going back to the house to start decorating. Sitting down in the restaurant area, Millie opts for a burger and fries, and I have a wrap and a salad. I’m just about to take a sip of my soda when Millie gasps and drops a handful of fries back onto her plate.
“Holy shit-on-a-stick!” she exclaims.
“What?” I say, looking around, wondering what on earth she’s seen.
“Don’t look now, but Kyler is over there and he’s not alone.”
I discreetly look over my shoulder to where Millie is indicating. She’s right, Kyler is standing outside a toy store, near to where we are sitting, and he’s definitely not by himself. Sitting on his shoulders is a little girl, maybe about three or four-years-old in age, wearing jeans, a cute little T-shirt, and blue sneakers. But this isn’t what shocks me the most. What shocks me is the fact this little girl, laughing away without a care in the world, is the spitting image of the man whose shoulders she is sitting on. Right down to the color of her long dark hair, which is haphazardly tied up on each side of her head. Kyler reaches up and gently tickles her sides and the little girl bursts into uncontrollable laughter and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen. He’s like a completely different person. He looks so relaxed and happy. It’s clear she’s the light of his life the way he’s acting around her.
Kyler picks her up off his shoulders and places her on the ground, crouching down next to her with his arm around her. I watch, mesmerized, as she points to something in the window—a little pink and light-blue Spiderman costume with accompanying mask. It’s obviously something the manufacturers have introduced to appeal to their young female fans. Kyler asks her something and she nods enthusiastically. He stands up and takes her hand before letting her lead him into the shop. Looks like this little girl is going to have the best costume this Halloween.
“Wow,” Millie says, interrupting my train of thought. “She looks exactly like him.”
“Yeah, she does,” I murmur, not taking my eyes off the store they went into.
“I guess this explains the absences then.”
I turn around and look back at Millie. “Huh, what?”
She looks pointedly toward the store before returning her attention to me. “Kyler. That’s the reason he’s never at your house. Because he’s looking after his kid, right?”
I look toward the store again and the penny drops. Of course. Millie’s right. The fact he’s never at home: the late nights, the working all hours, the personal issues Jude says he has, it all falls into place. It’s because he has a family he needs to take care of. What I don’t understand is why he hasn’t told the rest of us about them. It’s not as if we’d change our opinion on him. If anything, I’m sure all of us would offer to help out if he needed us to.
Kyler and his little girl walk out of the store, and she’s skipping happily while he clutches a shopping bag and a tiny little pink backpack with a mermaid on the front. If I wasn’t so shocked, my hormones would be going crazy at the sight of this tall, surly, constantly-scowling man clearly doting on his daughter. A brooding Kyler is one thing, but a baby-daddy Kyler, happily smiling without a care in the world? It’s truly a sight to behold.
“Yeah,” I say, realizing I’ve not yet responded to Millie’s latest comment. “I guess it does explain the absences. I’m surprised he’s never said anything though.”
Millie shrugs. “Maybe he just doesn’t want the fact he’s a dad to take the focus off being drafted to the NHL. That’s his endgame, right? Makes sense he wants to succeed if he’s got a young family to look after.”
“I guess you’re right,” I reply distractedly. I look over my shoulder once again, but Kyler and his little girl are no longer in sight.
We finish our meal and Millie gathers up or trays and tidies them away. As she does, I quickly take out my phone and open the last text exchange I had with him all those weeks ago and type out a message to him.
You shouldn’t have to keep your daughter a secret, Kyler. She’s adorable by the way.
Before I overthink it and change my mind, I press send. It’s unlikely I’ll get a response but it’s my way of letting him know that being a young father is nothing to be ashamed of. The three bubbles appear almost immediately, letting me know not only has he read my message but he’s also typing a reply. I hold my breath, somewhat nervous about what he’ll say.
Ky
Who she is, is not anyone’s business.
twelve
Kyler
After reading Thea’s text, I scoop Lacey up into my arms and place her on my hip. For some reason, there’s an urgency in my steps, almost as if Thea is a perceived threat, when deep down, I know she isn’t. For years, I’ve been overprotective of Lacey—mostly because of my sister, and her unwillingness to tell us who Lacey’s father is. “He’s a bad guy,” is all Ally ever says, and she fears his family will take her away. It’s my job to keep Lacey safe. I could never forgive myself if something ever happened to her.
“Uncle Kyler, what’s wrong?” Lacey’s tiny hand rests on my cheek. Warmth spreads through me, dulling my icy demeanor.
“Nothing, Lacey Bear.”
“You look mad.”
I am mad. But why? Is it because Thea is at the mall? It’s a public place and I’m bound to run into someone I know. Is it because Thea saw me with my niece? No, it’s because she assumed Lacey was my daughter and didn’t ask me. Thea seems to have a habit of making a lot of assumptions about me. In a way, it’s my fault. I know I’m closed off, a shut book. I know I don’t give a lot of people anything to go on. Probably because I don’t want their sympathy. I don’t feel like divulging my family drama and how my dad bailed, how my mom and sister are bum magnets, and how they both guilt-trip me into everything. And the last thing I want is for any of my friends to try and help. My issues are my burden and no one else’s, and people like Thea would see me as a charity case and jump at the opportunity to fix me. I’m not broken. I’m severely cracked, and no amount of glue is going to keep me from shattering.
Lacey and I walk into a children’s clothing store. I finally set her down and allow her to roam through the racks of clothes. She picks out a handful of shirts, skirts, jeans, and a couple of new pairs of shoes. She excitedly skips to the counter, where I set everything down and she watches the clerk ring her new clothes in. Every folded item has a story in Lacey’s world. She tells the clerk why the purple shirt is her favorite, and how tomorrow she’s wearing the pink skirt. Lacey loves how the shoes she chose light up and asked the clerk if she had a pair. There’s a point during this process when I want to apologize to the clerk, but she seems so practiced and well versed in dealing with kids of this age I let it go and let my niece live in the glory of buying new things. When the total shows on the register, I hand over the cash and wait for my change.
With three new bags in my hand, Lacey and I exit the store. “I’m hungry.”
“Do you want to go get pizza?”
“No, McDonald’s,” she tells me.
Of course, there’s one in the food court, but I don’t really want to go there. Again, Thea is on my mind, and now I find myself looking over my shoulder. I don’t understand why the fact she saw me with Lacey is bothering me, but it is. This is a part of my life I want to keep to myself, yet I’m out in the open where anyone can see me. My own insecurities and reasonings are giving me whiplash.
“Okay, let’s go to the one with the play palace and we’ll play for a little bit.”
Lacey jumps up and down, almost yanking my arm out of the socket. I could let go of her hand, but the irrational fear I feel weighs heavily on my chest. I’m honestly surprised Lacey hasn’t mentioned the death grip I have on her hand.
As soon as we exit the mall, I pick her up again. She doesn’t balk and rests her head on my shoulder. “I love you, Uncle Kyler.”
“I love you the most,” I tell her.
“Am I your favorite?”
Her question makes me laugh. “Of course, you are. Do you see any other nieces hanging around?”
She shakes her head and giggles. I remember the first time she laughed at something I did. She was a few months old and hearing her laugh was literally the best moment of my life. That’s when I started seeing her as a human and not some crying, pooping blob who didn’t sleep when I did.
I was still in high school when Ally came home and told mom and I she was pregnant. My mom wasn’t supportive, barely said a thing to my sister, except she needed to find a way to take care of her child. I held Ally all night while she cried. She was scared. I was too. I didn’t want my mom to kick her out of the house. When my graduation rolled around, I almost stayed home instead of going to juniors. My mentor encouraged me to leave Northport and spread my wings on the ice. Each day I was gone, I called to talk to Lacey. I never want her to think I don’t love her or can’t be there for her. When I go to the NHL, my baggage will come with me, which is another reason to stay closed off to everyone. The place I’m in with my family doesn’t allow for any outside interference. As much as I’d love to date someone—like Thea—it’ll never happen because I’ll never be able to put them first.
My mom leans into me and whispers, “I’m nervous.”
“I know,” I say as I pat her leg. I’m nervous as well. Today, we find out the fate of the mobile home park, and when everyone must move. The developers invited everyone to a meeting at some fancy posh restaurant. One would think they’d have a buffet or something, but no. If you want to eat, which everyone does because it’s dinner time, then you’re on your own to order. I took one look at the menu and told the server we’ll have coffee. A BLT here costs more than one of my textbooks. It bothers me an establishment can get away with overcharging for two slices of bread, some bacon, a tomato, and generic mayo.
An entire group of suits walk in, and I roll my eyes. They’re each carrying a briefcase instead of the much cooler messenger bags. I groan and my mom gives me the side eye. I don’t know what outcome she’s expecting, but she wrote out a speech about why she needs to live where she does and how their plans for development hurt people like her. I warned her they won’t listen or care; big corporations are all about money. The park owner sold out and didn’t care about his tenants. In fact, I think he’s already taken the money and fled town. I haven’t seen him sleazing around, looking in windows. I’ve never liked him, and I’m glad he’s gone, except for the fact my mom, niece, and sister are about to be homeless.
A suit stands and clears his throat. Not once. Not twice. But three freaking times and I can’t figure out if he’s doing it because he has something stuck or if he didn’t get the attention he wanted the first two times. When the people attending this meeting don’t quiet down, he picks up a fork and a glass of water and bangs the utensil against the glass, and yells, “Be quiet!”
What a pompous ass.
The rest of his minions settle in. One sets out stacks of papers in front of the five empty seats, while another hands out the useless information to us peons. I take it from my mom and flip through the pages—all gibberish. Nothing but plans for the development, how much the investment into Northport is costing these people, and how much it’s going to cost potential renters to lease out space for their business.
Once everyone has settled, the minions sit down next to their fearful leader. I lock eyes with the one who sits on the right and my breathing comes up short. What the fuck? One of these piece-of-shit people is none other than Thea’s boyfriend, Adam. I glare at him, hoping he will look up so I can convey my complete and utter disgust.
When the impatient one starts talking, I focus on Adam. And for the first time in my life, I wish I was some stupid superhero. I’d burn him with my laser eyes and strangle him with my extra-long arms.
The suit continues to talk. I pick up bits and pieces but am having a hard time tearing my attention away from Adam and the woman sitting next to him. They’re oblivious to the people in front of them and how we can see them holding hands under the table. Surely they must know everyone across from them can see when Adam slips his hand between her legs. Now, not only do I want to maim this motherfucker because he works for the company responsible for displacing my family, but this douche is cheating on Thea.
I do what the suit did and clear my throat loudly, until the man stops talking. “May I help you?” His tone has bite. It’s snarky and condescending. He thinks I’m beneath him because I’m on this side of the room and not his.
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just trying to make sure Adam there sees me.” I wink and nod toward his hand. Adam doesn’t flinch. The suit looks at his protégé, shrugs, and continues to babble on about new sewer pipes and water lines. And still, after being called out in front of a room full of people, this piece-of-crap douchebag continues to touch the woman next to him.
As soon as I lift my phone, he stops, ruining every bit of joy I was about to bring to myself. It’s probably a good thing because I don’t want to hurt Thea, but I’ll gladly tell her brother. There’s no way in hell Jude will allow this shit to go on.
I try to pay attention, but the monotonous dribble coming out of this guy’s mouth is boring me. I raise my hand and wait for acknowledgement. When it comes, I ask, “At what point in this packet are you going to get to the crux of the matter?”
“Which is?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say in disbelief. “Do you think all these people are here to listen to you talk about what kind of lighting you’re going to use in your parking lot? You’re displacing people. They’re losing their homes so you can build some strip mall full of nail salons.”
“And you’d rather, I what?” he asks. Before I can even form a response, he starts talking again. “Own a run down, filthy mobile home park, with dirt roads and dilapidated homes? This space is prime real estate and I fully intend to earn my money back. Now I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my business plan or if you think I’m going to put other people’s needs before those of my business. I made each person in the park a generous offer. Some took it, others didn’t. Maybe they thought they could call my bluff, but I assure you, I’m as straightforward as the next person,” he pauses and looks around the room. “If you’re here because you think you’re going to get another dime out of me with some sob story, think again. The offer I made months ago has an expiration date on it. The bulldozer breaks ground in a few months. I suggest you stop at the store on your way home and get some boxes.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. Glancing at my mom, her head is down, and I know, without confirmation, she’s ignored this man’s offer. “I’m leaving,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “I have practice.”
There is zero satisfaction from standing up in the middle of this meeting and pushing my chair forward because the carpet muffles everything. I storm out of there, slamming doors as I go. And, as luck would have it, my car doesn’t start on the first or second try. I slam my hands against the steering wheel and scream out. I want a fucking redo on the family pool. I don’t deserve to have all of this shit put on my shoulders. I just want to play hockey and go pro. That’s the life I want.
