Chapter 55
I stand and stare at the masterpiece I’ve hung above the fireplace like it’s a fine piece of art and smile to myself. I’m all alone in this big ol’ house that I grew up in, and it feels weird to know that the deed is in my name instead of Jay’s and Mary-Ann’s.
All their belongings are still inside, and they’re due back soon after meeting with the realtor and lawyers to finish the selling process.
They refused to accept my offer to get them caught up on bills and purchase Taytum’s insulin pump as well as future medications. Jay’s exact words were, “You can pay for Taytum’s medical expenses when you’re married and she’s on your insurance. For now, it’s not your problem.”
I took that as an excuse to propose, but apparently, running across the living room and kneeling in front of Taytum three seconds after the words left her father’s mouth wasn’t what anyone had in mind.
After I had filled Claire and Theo in on what was going on with Taytum and how I was going to contact my father after nearly fifteen years of not speaking and take the money he had offered me after he learned of my mother dying, Claire came up with a much better plan.
At the time, I wasn’t sure it would work.
But thanks to her close proximity to some high-up people in the pros, I was quickly granted an agent, presented to multiple pro teams that already had their eye on me, and several offers were on the table within days. Each came with a signing bonus that I could choose to receive over time, like most players, or right away.
Naturally, I went with the highest one, and the money was in my account as soon as I signed the papers.
It was enough to buy the Olsons’ house in secrecy and purchase Taytum’s insulin pump out of pocket, plus take care of some other expenses.
“They’re going to kill you.”
I spin at the sound of Aunt Jo’s voice. I smirk and point to the frame behind me with a black-and-white photo of the hockey god Bobby Orr–only, I’ve photoshopped my face where his would be. “Do you like it?”
She scans the picture and furrows her brow. “Is that Bobby Orr?”
I pretend to be wounded. “Uh, no. It’s obviously me.”
Her raspy laugh fills the living room as she comes over and smacks me on the back of the head. “What am I going to do with you going all the way to Pittsburgh next year?”
I shrug. “Not laugh as much.”
She fixes the frame for me, making sure it’s straight, before taking a seat on the couch. “I’m proud of you,” she says with watery eyes.
The croak in her voice makes me uncomfortable. “Stop it,” I warn.
Typically, she listens to me and will stop giving me compliments. Not that I don’t enjoy when someone inflates my ego, but it’s different with her. Her praise means as much to me as if my real mother were the one saying it.
Only this time, she doesn’t stop. “I’m proud of your maturity.”
“I am the most immature twenty-three-year-old there is.” That’s what Coach says, at least.
Aunt Jo shakes her head. “That’s not true. I don’t know many twenty-three-year-olds who would be willing to call up the man they hate the most to ask him for money for something incredibly selfless.”
I glance away because not only do I hate thinking about Henry, but I hate talking about him even more.
“He would have given you the money,” she notes.
“I’m sure he would have, and I’m sure he would have used it as an excuse to slip back into my life or, if anything, used it as a way to rid himself of the guilt over her death.”
My biological father didn’t kill my mother with his own bare hands.
He wasn’t charged with murder, and he didn’t end up in some high-security prison.
But he did leave us with nothing, and when she got sick and begged for his help, he took too long to show up.
She died, and when I found out that he could have saved her all along, I wanted nothing to do with him.
I didn’t want his money, because if it couldn’t bring back my mom, what difference did it make?
But for Taytum, I was willing to stir up a shit-ton of baggage if it meant helping her and the Olsons.
Four car doors slam, and I push up off the wall. My aunt stands, and we walk to the front door to break the news to Jay and Mary-Ann that they don’t actually have to move. Her hand falls to mine, and she squeezes it. “I’m still proud,” she whispers.
I elbow her gently. “Stop being mushy…” The door opens. “But thanks, Mom.”
Her eyes well. I’ve called her Mom from time to time, and I know it hits her hard.
“Well?” I ask, pulling Taytum to my side when she and the rest of the family walk through the front door.
“It’s done.” Jay claps his hands once. “Now we just have to figure out where we’re going to go.”
Mary-Ann launches into a whole spiel, discussing some smaller houses that they’ve found and possibly even just renting an RV and living in it for a while.
Taytum tenses.
I rub my hand down her back and whisper, “Relax. I have a surprise.”
“Your surprises never go over well,” she says.
She isn’t wrong.
But this one is different.
“I have a surprise for you guys.” We’re all standing in the foyer, and I start to lead them into the living room. My aunt can barely keep a straight face. “Well, I have two surprises.”
Emory is the first to notice it. There’s a giant crease in between his eyebrows. “What the hell is that?”
I smirk. “What?”
“That.” He points to the photo above the fireplace and moves closer. “That’s not even you.”
“Is that Bobby Orr?” Jay asks, scrutinizing the photo closer.
Taytum is amused, but she’s also confused.
Just wait, baby.
“It’s part of the surprise.”
“Your face photoshopped onto Bobby Orr’s body is part of a surprise?” Emory asks. “This oughta be good.”
Mary-Ann looks at me with skepticism. “Why is it hanging above the fireplace?”
“Well, because it’s a housewarming gift.”
I meet Taytum’s squint. Her blue eyes swim with questions as she continues to silently ask me what’s going on.
Emory scoffs. “You’re supposed to get a housewarming gift when someone purchases a house. Not when they sell it.”
“Obviously.” I roll my eyes. “I got it for myself.”
The room falls silent.
The Olsons blink several times, and I’m prepared to defend my case. I pull my phone out, open the text from my realtor, then hand it over to them.
Congratulations! The paperwork has been signed. The house is yours.
“Now, before you get mad…it’s already done. I bought it with cash from my signing bonus, and I did it for you. It’s yours.”
Taytum gasps. My eyes fly to hers. Those perfect, kissable lips part, and I’m having a hard time abiding by her brother’s ridiculous rule that we don’t kiss around him.
“You were the private buyer?” Mary-Ann asks in awe.
I nod. “And my only request…”
Emory cuts me off. “Here we go…”
I point to the photo behind me. “Is that you keep my photo up.”
Jay chuckles, and Mary-Ann can’t wipe the smile off her face. Emory comes up in front of me and pulls me into a hug. I’m shocked until he adds, “You suck at photoshop.”
I laugh, and then Taytum is crashing into my chest and wrapping her arms around my torso. She’s warm to the touch, and I know it’s from being worked up with emotion. My hand traps her face to my chest because, knowing her and her stubbornness, she’s trying to wipe away her tears so no one knows she’s crying.
I know, though.
I know everything about her.
Jay and Mary-Ann grab hands and look at me from across the living room. I shake my head at them because I don’t want their gratitude, nor do I want their argument.
It’s a done deal.
The house is bought, and now they can use what they’ve made on the sale to catch their bills up. Taytum’s sugar is finally regulated with her new pump, and the cost is covered.
“Thank you,” Taytum whispers against my chest.
I turn us around and put my back to everyone. Our only audience is the photo of Bobby Orr with my face poorly photoshopped overtop of his. “No.” I grab her cheeks and bring her face close. “Thank you. ”
“For what?”
I stare into her blue eyes that I fell for when I was too young to even know what love was. “For letting me take care of you.”