Our Overtime: Ice League Book 1 (The Ice League Series)

It was Canyon’s sixth birthday and the two of us were cooped up in this damn hotel room. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes against the rising sun’s light coming in through the shades of the huge suite. We’d already been here three full days. When Kevin suggested we come with him on this business trip I agreed because I thought he wanted to be with his son on his birthday. How pathetic of me for believing that. He was a twisted son of a bitch. I knew he didn’t care about me. But now he was treating Canyon with disdain as well.

This was probably the first birthday he would remember and damn it all if it wasn’t a good memory.

It was decided. I would make it a great day. We were leaving this damn hotel.

He was laying in the hotel bed next to me and I lightly ran my nails through his hair like he loved. His angelic little face dotted with freckles was just coming out of sleep. I loved this little boy more than I’d ever loved anyone. Even more than him… but I would not say his name.

Tonight, I would take Canyon to a Caps game. He loved hockey. He knew practically all the big players and their stats. It was amazing to me how much his little brain remembered. Maybe I could even get a Happy Birthday message written to him on the big screen.

I would just have to swallow my pride over the fact that the boy I previously loved with my whole life would be on the ice in front of us.

I pushed down anxiety over being in the same building as him. He would never know. He would never care. It was an admission I had learned to accept. Maybe I could block out all the hate and regret and just remember the good for tonight. There had been a lot of good.

He stirred awake then, “Morning, Mommy.” He smiled with his eyes still closed and I leaned down to kiss his little nose.

“I have a big birthday surprise for you today,” I told him sweetly. “Happy birthday my perfect little boy.” I moved to get up, but he took my hand and put it back on his head. He wanted me to continue racking his hair. I couldn’t help but give in to his cute request. One day he wouldn’t want it anymore and he was my only baby. I reached over to grab the clicker with my free hand to change the station to a cartoon and then grabbed my coffee.

I was almost afraid Canyon was going to fall asleep during the game tonight, but he had a cherry icee, candy, and popcorn in front of him, so I bet that would probably keep him wired.

“This is the best, Mom! Thank you!” He said.

I patted his cheek and stole some of his candy, “No problem, baby. So, who’s going to win?”

He rattled off some stats of the guys on Capitals and their opponents tonight, the Boston Bruins.

“I really like Ericksen, but Greyson Scott is my favorite player,” he said. I almost choked on the popcorn.

“Gr-… Greyson Scott?” I asked him. I couldn’t believe I’d said his name aloud to my child. It felt like a dirty secret for some reason. Probably because I’d loved him and not his father.

“Yeah, mom. He lived in Northfield. Just like me!” he said.

I nodded.

It was almost like him mentioning his name allowed me to look for him on the ice.

I immediately picked him out. I still knew his skating. I secretly sometimes did turn a specific game on to see him. But I hadn’t known my son liked watching him as well.

“He’s on fire right now, scoring up a storm lately. Maybe he’ll score for my birthday, you think?” he turned to me with a hopeful look.

I smiled at him and ruffled his hair. I loved his innocence, “Maybe he will,” I told him.

Grey was on the starting line, front and center. He took his face-off stance the exact same way he had as a high school kid. He was just much larger now. The camera zoomed in on his face and I had to swallow down self-pity. He was still such a beautiful guy. But his eyes did not look playful anymore. They looked hard and cold. I hoped that was just his game face. He had been a good boy, and a good guy. I silently prayed the world hadn’t turned him into a bad man.

As soon as the game started, my little man was moving around in his seat as he watched the game, and I couldn’t help but feel joy. I was so happy I stole away and took him to this game.

With Canyon cheering next to me, it was almost impossible to not get into the game. I soon found myself cheering and high-fiving my son over the Caps triumphs.

But I couldn’t help but think of the irony. Of him down there living out his dream and me sitting up here looking down at him from the nose-bleeds.

Canyon fell asleep on the Metro, and again in the Uber. He usually didn’t stay up past his bedtime at 9pm and it was already almost midnight. I was thankful he was still small enough that I could carry him inside.

He stood up by himself in the elevator and rested his little head against my stomach. I closed my eyes hard, cherishing this last minute of peace with him before we had to answer to Kevin.

“Fucking hell,” Kevin mouthed at me, shaking his head as soon as I opened the door. I was hit with a massive stench of alcohol.

I held Canyon’s ear against my stomach as we shuffled into the room, pushing past him.

I laid Canyon in bed and took off his shoes slowly. He immediately curled into a ball and pulled the covers higher onto himself.

I cherished how peaceful he looked.

A second later a heavy hand gripped my upper arm and ripped me forward so hard I almost fell on my face.

I hoped he was pushing me into the hallway. He couldn’t do anything then.

But I was wrong. He shoved me into the privacy of the small bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind us, I turned to face him and was met with a splintering slap across the face.

I held my face and willed the tears not to come forward. That would only give him more power and show him that what he did had worked.

I stayed silent. I knew the drill. He was drunk off his ass. It showed in his red face and crazed eyes.

“What the fuck, Julianna,” he whispered. “Where the fuck were you two?”

“I took him out for his birthday,” I said boldly.

“Where?” he demanded.

I paused. I didn’t want to let him know. Because he would twist the reason why I had gone.

“Where?” he demanded harsher and took a step closer to me. I commanded myself not to flinch as he neared.

“Where!” he shouted this time and I did flinch.

“A hockey game,” I told him.

He seemed to back off then.

But I was wrong.

I felt another heavy hand hit my face and this time the force almost made me fall into the tub.

“It’s going to show!” I hissed, trying to hide the hysteria I was feeling.

That finally caused him to back off.

But he wasn’t done taking shots. He gave a snide laugh, “Went to watch the old boyfriend, huh?” he spit. “He doesn’t want you. Ungrateful,” he spit.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until he left the bathroom and I finally exhaled.

I tried to calm my breathing and think back to how worth it going to the game had been.

I thought of my precious boy’s smile and willed myself not to cry. My throat burned. We had to get out of this. There had to be a way out. I had messed up. But I didn’t deserve this. No one did.