Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
Mother rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “Easton, you are being ridiculous. She has every right to take him places. If you insist, I’ll go with them. That should reassure you.”
“It doesn’t. I said no.” I bit the words out through clenched teeth, my frustration rising. “Easton, she’s his grandmother too. She has a familial right to build a relationship with him.”
“The hell she does. She wanted a relationship with him so much that he almost didn’t exist. Tell me, Mother, when he screams bloody murder and tells people he’s been kidnapped while out with her, how well is that going to go over for your photo op, I’m sure she has planned? You think the investigating officers might pose in those photos with her?”
Her eyes blazed with anger, but mine were way past that. I was ready to detonate.
“Easton, you wouldn’t dare try that.”
“We’ve already taught him that for safety, considering his last name. He’s a bright kid and would figure out how to get away from her on his own. I wouldn’t have to do a thing. Cole is an excellent judge of character and knows who loves him… and who doesn’t.” I made sure to keep my gaze locked on her, emphasizing those last three words.
“He is spending a day with her, and that’s final!” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.
“THE HELL HE IS! I SAID NO! SHE CAN F**K OFF!” My voice boomed angrily, uncaring if I woke him.
Seconds later, my door flew open, and Dad rushed in, followed closely by my brothers. Jackson was already pissed off.
“Easton? Why are you yelling at your mother?” Dad demanded, his expression a mix of concern and authority.
“She thinks I’m going to let Vivienne take Cole out for a day! Is she back, Dad? Did you help plan this outing?” My voice was laced with disbelief.
Mother closed her eyes, clearly bracing herself.
Dad glanced between us, uncertainty etched on his face. “We saw her tonight, and she mentioned returning for a while to do a movie promotion. But we said nothing about Cole, Imogen. There is no way that’s a good idea. She’s a complete stranger to him.”
“I could go with them,” Mother offered, but Dad shook his head firmly.
“Easton is Cole’s father, and this decision should be his.” Dad’s tone was final, and I could sense the tension in the air.
I glared at my mother, ready for another round of this ridiculous argument until a scared little voice called over the monitor. “Daddy? Daddy?”
“I got him,” Jackson said, sprinting towards the connecting door.
Dad shook his head, staring between us. “Imogen, Cole’s welfare needs to come before your long-standing friendship with Vivienne.” Jackson stepped in with Cole clinging to him, his little face filled with concern.
“We’ll talk more about this over the weekend. You should get him back to bed,” Dad said, hugging Cole before leaving the room.
Mother lingered, her expression unreadable. “You win this time. But don’t forget your place too much, son.”
She turned to find Kingston and Becker both glaring at her. Her gaze swept over all of us before she left, the tension still hanging in the air.
“Tell us on the way to class. He’s scared.” Jackson handed Cole to me.
“Sorry, buddy, for yelling. Want to sleep with Daddy tonight?” I asked, my heart softening at his small, tired form.
“Uh huh. I tired.”
Me too.
Easton
As I glide across the rink, my movements are deliberate and slow, each push of my skates sending me forward with a gentle grace. The rest of the team has long since packed up and headed home, leaving me in the solitude of the ice. Tomorrow night looms large-a big game awaits, and I need every ounce of focus I can muster. But tonight? Tonight, I just want to drown out everything else. It’s the first time in ages that I’m avoiding the familiar path back home. Normally, I can’t wait to get there, to see Cole, to tuck him in and whisper goodnight. But tonight feels different. Tonight, I can’t bear the thought of facing Luci after what happened last night. Her reaction still stings, and I know I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. She deserves better than to be dragged into the chaos of my life. I shouldn’t have taken that risk with her.
My brothers share my fury towards our mother. When I revealed her ridiculous plan to let Cole’s maternal grandmother spend time with him, the anger was palpable. I can’t imagine them allowing her to take him anywhere. The very thought makes my stomach churn.
With Vivienne Winters returning after years away, I know I need to confront that entire mess head-on. And now, I have to warn Luci about her too. Just the thought of explaining that convoluted situation makes me groan internally.
Pushing off the wall, I grab my hockey stick as I glide past it, closing my eyes for a moment. I let the rhythm of my skating take over, making a wide circle on the ice. I know this rink like the back of my hand; I could navigate it blindfolded if I had to. This is where I truly belong. Ever since Dad first took us to the downtown rink and strapped skates to our feet when we were just five, the ice has felt like home. The cold, crisp air fills my lungs as I glide effortlessly over the frozen surface, and normally, it brings me peace. But tonight, that peace eludes me.
Suddenly, the sound of skate blades cutting through the ice jolts me from my thoughts, followed by the unmistakable thud of a puck hitting the surface. I can hear Becker making a sharp turn, clearly trying to get my attention. Sure enough, he comes sliding to a halt, leaning back dramatically as if he were a bird about to take flight, arms spread wide. He’s joined by Jackson and Kingston, all of them gathered around a puck with their sticks at the ready. Becker’s grin radiates self-satisfaction.
“Shinny game?” Jackson asks, a playful smile creeping across his face.
Despite the weight on my shoulders, I can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, let’s play.” Moments like these are rare; we hardly ever get to just mess around and enjoy ourselves anymore.
“No goalies, every man for himself!” Becker declares, slapping his stick against the ice with an exaggerated growl, his eyes narrowing in mock seriousness.
Kingston chimes in, slapping his stick against Becker’s with a flourish. “It’s on, gentlemen!” He adopts a ridiculous British accent, making me chuckle. As kids, we often pretended to be characters from our wild imaginations. Kingston would take on the role of a British nobleman or a pirate, while Becker would morph into some sort of animal, and Jackson fancied himself a robot. It made for chaotic games, but the laughter was worth it. I can still picture Jackson’s stiff movements as he took shots like a clunky metal man.
Jackson swiftly snatches the puck and takes off. “Sneaky bastard,” I mutter under my breath, pushing off to chase after him as Becker howls like a wolf beside me. I glance at Becker, sharing a grin as we skate faster, but Jackson is too quick, darting away just as we close in. Kingston attempts to swoop in from the side, but in a flash, Jackson slaps the puck into the net. Becker whistles, “Damn, that was a pretty wrist shot!”
In a flash, Becker steals the puck and bolts in the opposite direction, with Kingston hot on his heels. I take a moment to sit back and watch, relishing the joy of the game. Jackson gives me a playful poke with his stick before darting off again. We play for a solid hour, with Jackson emerging as the ‘winner’-though I didn’t even try to win. I was just enjoying the moment.
When we finally return, Baker is waiting for us in the kitchen, a baby monitor resting beside him. He looks up from his book, peering over his reading glasses. “You guys had a late practice. Your parents went out to dinner with some friends. I sent Luci home an hour ago after Cole fell asleep.”