Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

Canyon

I drive home faster than I should, equal parts annoyed and worried. Ally had been excited about her first sleepover, and I'd spoken to her friend's mom, letting her know that Ally had only been living with me a short time. She'd said she would keep an eye on them, so I'm aggravated that something had gone wrong.

"Ally?" I let myself into my condo and find Stevie sitting at the island in the kitchen. "Hey. God, I'm sorry. I left my phone in the living room, so I didn't hear it ring."

"It's all right." She yawns. "But I need to get some sleep."

"I owe you one, Stevie."

"It's all right. She was upset. I think I calmed her down but…"

"But?"

"I guess some of her new friends Googled her mom and found all the gory details of Carly's overdose. Her criminal record. Everything. Pre-teens are better than the CIA at finding dirt."

"Fuck. And they gave her a hard time?"

"Yeah." She nods.

"Is she in her room?"

"She was in the bathroom washing her face and putting on pajamas."

"All right. I'll go talk to her. Thanks again."

"No worries."

I let her out and then pad down the hall to Ally's room. Her door is open, but the lights are out and I can see her huddled form under the blankets.

"Hey, kiddo. You feel like talking?"

"No."

"You sure?" I walk in and sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm a pretty good listener."

"I hate this school!" she hisses, burying her face in the pillow.

"Tell me what happened."

"They're just rich, spoiled mean girls!"

"Okay, but what did they do?"

"They called Mom names. They said she was probably a crack whore and…" Her voice breaks. "…I'm probably going to be one too!"

"Oh, Ally." I lean over and wrap my arms around her, something she hasn't let me do before now. "Sweetie, that's not true. Your mom was an addict, but she couldn't help it. Addiction is a disease."

"I don't even know what a crack whore is!" she sniffles against my shoulder. "And they laughed at me when I said that."

I stroke her hair, hating everything about these girls.

I have to fix this.

I don't know how, but I will.

"Where was Rhea's mom?" I ask.

"Her parents went to bed. We were down in the basement watching movies. Then the movie ended, and they started picking on me. And someone called me a bastard because I don't have a dad." She starts to cry in earnest, and all I can do is hold her.

"Why did you make him leave us?" she gulped between sobs. "Why did you do that?"

Ah, shit.

This isn't the time for this conversation.

But what choice do I have?

Since I absolutely can't tell her the whole truth, I'm going to have to pick and choose enough pieces of it to make it believable.

"Ally… your dad wasn't a good guy. I don't know what your mom told you, but he used to hit her. She had bruises all over her body. And then I came home early from school one day and…I caught him hurting you. You were only two, and I loved you so much, I snapped. I beat the crap out of him. I'm sorry if that hurts you, to know that I'm the reason your dad left and that he was an abusive ass, but there was no way I was going to let him hurt you."

Ally's quiet for a long time.

So long I'm afraid she's fallen asleep.

But then she stirs, slowly pulling away and lying down again.

"Mom told me she had bad luck with boyfriends."

"Yeah, your father wouldn't have been my first choice for her. Or you."

"Mom was always sad," she whispers. "I heard her on the phone once, and she said she was lonely. That if it wasn't for me, she would have ended it. I didn't understand what that meant, but now…" She swallows and lifts big hazel eyes to meet mine. "Did she mean she wanted to die?"

Fuck fuck fuck.

How do I answer that?

Is honesty the best policy here?

Why can't we have these conversations in therapy instead of in the middle of the night?

"I don't think she wanted to die, exactly," I say carefully, "but if she was sad and lonely, she probably just wanted to not feel that way anymore."

"She left me," she says sadly. "So now I'm the one who's sad and lonely."

Jesus.

If that's not a shot straight to the heart, I don't know what is.

"Honey, you're not alone, okay? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

"You didn't even pick up tonight! I called and called…"

"I fell asleep and didn't hear my phone. I'm sorry. From now on, I'll make sure the ringer is on and the phone is next to me."

"You were with Saylor ." She says her name almost accusingly.

"Yes, I was, but that's not why I didn't pick up. We were sleeping. I have practice in the morning, so we went to bed early, which is what I would have done even if I was here at home. I'm not used to leaving my ringer on, and I apologize for that. It won't happen again."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow we're going to talk about school. If you really hate this school, there's another one we can go to. But it's farther away and I don't know that it'll be any better. There are going to be rich mean girls anywhere you go."

"Do I have to go to private school?"

"Yes. Because I'm a local celebrity and it wouldn't be safe for you to go to a public school. But let me get some sleep. In the morning, I have practice so I'm going to drop you off at Autumn's, and then when I'm done we'll go to lunch and talk about a plan."

"What kind of plan?"

"I don't know yet. I need to think about it, but I'm going to fix this situation at school."

"You promise?" She eyes me as if she doesn't believe it.

"I promise."

I lean over and brush my lips over her forehead.

Then I slip out of the room wondering how the hell I'm going to keep that promise.

* * *

I'm exhausted at practice and it's hard to think about anything but Ally.

She left me and now I'm sad and lonely.

I'm pissed at Carly all over again because everything happening is her fault.

Her fault for not believing me when I'd told her what Shawn had done.

Her fault for cutting us off.

Her fault for overdosing and leaving her child an orphan.

And definitely her fault my life has been turned upside down.

"You all right?" Marty asks me after practice. "You were definitely not yourself out there today."

"Becoming a guardian to a sad, grieving eleven-year-old is not for the faint of heart," I reply, yanking a T-shirt on over my sweats.

"It's rough, huh?"

I shake my head. "Beyond rough. Last night she was talking about her mom. She overheard her mom telling someone on the phone that she was sad and lonely. So then Ally says, ‘yeah, so she left me and now I'm the one that's sad and lonely.' Or something like that."

"Damn." Gabe overhears us and grimaces. "Poor kid."

"She was at a sleepover last night and the little bitches she goes to school with googled her mom and told Ally she'd been a crack whore."

"Jesus." Marty shakes his head. "Kids suck."

"Girls are tough," Gabe agrees. "My daughter Brandi has had some trouble this year too. Her mom went down to the school and raised hell."

"I guess that's what I need to do," I say, "but I don't know what to say. I mean, the internet exists, and Carly's arrest history and overdose is public record. The information is out there. I can't tell other kids' parents what they can and can't look at online."

"No, but you can have a very stern heart-to-heart with the parents of the kid whose house it was," Gabe says. "Parents are responsible for the shit their kids do. They don't get a pass simply because the information is out there. There has to be some accountability."

"Yeah, I suppose so." I've already been thinking about calling Rhea's mom.

"This isn't even your kid?" One of my teammates, Philippe Lilleberg, shakes his head. "Why would you take on that kind of responsibility? Most people don't like their own kids, much less someone else's."

"Speak for yourself," Marty mutters. "I love my kids."

"Yeah, because you're not the one in charge. You're off playing hockey while your wife takes care of them. You'd feel different if you were in charge twenty-four seven."

"How the fuck would you know?" Gabe asks him. "You don't have kids."

"No, but I see it all the time. No one likes being a full-time parent. Why do you think athletes have such a high divorce rate? The wives are exhausted handling it on their own.

I close my locker and grab my bag. "Well, Ally doesn't have anyone else, so whether I like it or not, she's my responsibility now."

"Don't listen to him," Marty says, following me toward the players' parking lot. "I love my kids. They're awesome. Sure, it's a lot of work sometimes, but I don't feel like it's a bad thing. We wouldn't have had three if we didn't want them."

"Yeah, but that's just it. You did want them. You had them on purpose. Ally technically isn't my kid." I feel a wave of guilt saying those words out loud.

"Are you thinking of putting her in foster care?"

Am I?

No.

That's not going to happen.

"As much as part of me wants to say yes, the answer is no. I can't do that to her. She's had a tough enough life without me giving up on her too, you know?"

"I'm glad you're stepping up to the plate," Marty replies. "Honestly, I would've offered to take her if my marriage wasn't on the rocks. Brenna and I wanted a big family." He pauses. "At least, I thought we did. I feel like I don't know her anymore."

"Therapy isn't helping?"

His eyes darken. "No. We haven't had sex in…months."

I grimace. "Is that…normal?"

"Not really. I guess it's a little normal, with three under five in the house, but not three months."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to bring it up in our next therapy session."

"What happens if you separate? Will she leave L.A.?"

He grunts. "And take my kids? Not a chance in hell. I'll fight tooth and nail to keep my kids here."

"Would a judge rule in your favor?"

"I'm not the one who wants to leave. I don't hit her, I've never cheated, I provide a good life for them—I shouldn't be the one who's punished."

"I don't know if any of that counts in a divorce, though."

"You say it like it's a foregone conclusion."

"I apologize." I realize that's how it sounds. "It just sounds like…well, to be honest, from the outside looking in, it seems like she's checked out of your marriage. And I hate that for you because I know you love her."

Marty pauses as we go outside. "I did," he said quietly. "Once upon a time I would have moved heaven and earth to make her happy."

"And now?"

"Now all I care about is my kids."

"You've let her dick you around long enough. Talk to her. Whether it's one-on-one or with the therapist but ask her flat out what she wants and give her a time limit."

"The truth is, I'm a little scared of what the answer is going to be."

I unlock the door of my car. "Well, better to know now than to let her string you along any longer."

"You have a point." He lifts his hand in a wave. "Good luck with Ally."

"See you tomorrow!" I wave and head for Ally's school.

I'm about to threaten to pull her out, along with all the money I'd been planning to donate. As the saying goes, money talks and bullshit walks. Except my money will be the thing walking away if the school doesn't find a way to make me—and Ally—want to stay.