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Sunday afternoon, Benjamin pulled into the driveway of the home where he’d grown up and turned off the engine. Though December was only a few days away, the lights strung along the eaves and windows were not yet gleaming through the wintery dusk. Tradition held they wouldn’t be illuminated until the first of the month.
Despite the fact it was long past the time he and his mother should have had a serious talk, he didn’t get out of his car. A few more minutes couldn’t make things any worse.
Instead, he contemplated the empty seat next to him. He would much rather think about necking with Lynn than have the conversation waiting for him inside.
Their date had, surprisingly, recovered from its rocky start. He’d been able to ignore his mother and Kelly for the most part, and when they left before he and Lynn had finished their entrées, the atmosphere had eased further. By the time they finished coffee and dessert, he was back on an even keel.
He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t invite him in when he brought her home. He needed to regain her trust, and one date was just the start. Their goodnight kiss began chaste enough, but turned fiery in seconds. When she dragged herself away, breathless and tousled with eyes that promised more burning through the dark, he clutched the steering wheel to keep from hauling her back into his arms.
“Call me.” Her husky voice was deeper than usual and ruffled across his skin like velvet. “Tomorrow.”
“I will.” He had waited for her to enter her house, and then, for the second time, driven home with an aching erection that needed manual attention.
He hadn’t called her yet, but he would. As soon as he’d had it out with his mother.
He climbed out of his car and paced down the side of the house to the back door. Though he hadn’t lived there for almost two decades, the habits of his childhood and teen years were deeply ingrained. He turned the knob and stepped inside a small mudroom just off the kitchen.
“Mom?”
“In here.”
He toed off his boots and unzipped his parka, hanging it on the back of a dining chair as he followed her voice through the opening that led to the living room. She was sitting in her usual chair, an upholstered rocker placed next to an octagonal table that held a lamp, her reading glasses, and a mug that probably contained tea.
On the other side of the table was his father’s empty recliner. Sorrow punched his chest. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the sight.
Thea’s lap was covered in fluffy mint-green wool. She was an avid knitter and always had something on the go. When he was a kid he’d look up from the ice during practices, even games, and see needles flashing from her seat in the stands.
She shifted her feet off the chair’s matching ottoman and he lowered to the squashy surface. He waited as she finished a row, set her work down, threaded her fingers together, and met his gaze squarely. “I should have told you.”
He’d half expected her to defend herself so her blunt admission was welcome. “It would have been a shock, no matter what. But it would have been nice not to discover it in public.” He’d had time to think, though, and he’d been able to see her side of things a little more clearly. And realized his peaceful acceptance would be a tiny way of making amends for the tragedy he’d caused. “It’s your life, Mom. If he makes you happy, I’m happy for you. Where did you meet?”
Thea’s cheeks flushed. “Online.”
His eyes widened. “Online? Like, on Tinder?”
“I joined a dating site for people over fifty.” Her fingers fidgeted with the blanket on her lap but she didn’t look away. “Kelly contacted me, we messaged for a while, and then we went for coffee. We enjoyed our time together so we started seeing each other regularly.”
“When was this? After you got back from Auntie Janet’s?” That would explain why Thea had had little time for him since her return from Vancouver.
“Before that. Before you got your job, actually.”
“You’ve been seeing this guy for months?” What other secrets was his mother hiding? Did he want to know?
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. But I didn’t think it was worth mentioning unless it grew serious.” She picked up the needles, ruching the loops together as if preparing to start work again, and then dropped it back in her lap.
“And is it?” Had it looked serious last night or just flirty?
“It depends how you define serious.” He raised an eyebrow and his mother acknowledged his unspoken reproof with a fleeting smile. “Fine. We’re not seeing other people. But we’re a long way from moving in together. Does that answer your question?”
The idea that his mother might be having casual sex gave him the shudders. He really, really didn’t want to hear any further details. “I suppose.” He stood, paced to the front window, and stared out at the snow-covered lawn and street. The clouds were heavy and grey, and scattered flakes heralded more was on its way.
“You know I’ll never stop loving your father.” Thea’s voice was quiet and firm. “But he wouldn’t want me to sit at home and mourn him forever. We talked about it.”
He turned to face her. “You talked about it? Really?”
“Of course we did. I’m sure all married couples do at least once or twice.” Her gaze dropped to the knitting on her lap and she smoothed the rows of stitches absently. “Being with someone else doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget him.”
“I would never think that.” He took a deep breath, moved away from the window, and with deliberation sat in his father’s recliner, perching on the edge. He couldn’t put it off any longer. It was his turn to confess. “I would never deny you the right to be happy. Especially since I’m the reason he died.”
There. He’d finally said it. The words that ate at his soul, gnawed at his heart.
Thea frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”
He’d hoped the acknowledgment of his sin would be enough, but she looked honestly confused. She mustn’t have heard him. “I’m the reason he died. I caused his heart attack.”
He’d never forget the terrible choking that had rattled through his phone speaker, the guttural groan, the heavy thud, the sudden silence. His mother’s screams as he’d sat, frozen, impotent, half a continent away.
He’d never forget his father’s last, disappointed words. “Maybe hockey isn’t the life you should be chasing, son.”
It had been the off season and his father had been trying to convince him to come home instead of hiding in Los Angeles where he had been coaching. What had started as a friendly conversation about family and friends had grown heated when his father had suggested it might be time for Benjamin to look at a new career.
“There are so many other jobs out there. What about teaching? Or sales? I know hockey has been your life for a long time, but if it doesn’t make you happy...” He’d trailed off with a sigh.
Though Benjamin had spent the last decade drifting from job to job without purpose or plan, that day he had decided to take a stand. He was accusing his father of giving up on him when the fatal, final noises had interrupted his self-centred diatribe.
“Oh, honey.” His mother lifted a trembling hand to her mouth, her eyes glazed. “Do you really believe that?”
“It was me, Mom.” His throat was so thick with tears he could barely choke out the words. “I killed him.”
“You did no such thing. High blood pressure, too much red meat and not enough exercise killed him.”
“I was arguing with him. If I hadn’t—”
She rose abruptly, her work tumbling to the floor in a tangled mess. Ignoring it, she planted her hands on his shoulders and gave him a shake. “It had nothing to do with you. Nothing. Maybe you had a disagreement, but your father got angrier watching the Canucks play. He wasn’t upset, not really. He just wanted you to know it was okay to come home. That you didn’t have to keep trying to prove yourself.”
A fissure opened in the darkness of his heart and dawn seeped in. “I thought—”
She cut him off again. “If I did anything to make you think I blamed you, I’m sorry. I don’t and I never did. And your father would say the same thing if he were here. It was horrible, horrible timing. But that’s all your conversation was. A coincidence. Not a cause.”
“If I had been a better player, if I had been good enough to make him proud, the conversation never would have happened.” It was his fault. It had to be. It couldn’t just be cruel fate.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she forced him to look at her. “He was proud of you, Benjamin. So proud. It had nothing to do with how many pucks you put across the goal line or how fast you could skate from one blue line to the next. You were his son.” She said the last word with such fervor she shuddered.
The burden he’d been carrying for more than two years lightened. He blinked back a surge of emotion that made him want to curl into a ball and howl. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You’re a good son, Benjamin. I love you. And so did your father.”
She was wrong—he wasn’t a good son. Not as good as he could be. Maybe that’s what made his failure to live up to their expectations so painful. Their quiet faith shouted louder than any words.
For now, he’d take the comfort she offered. He laid his palms over her hands and pressed them. “I love you, too.”
She studied his face and seemingly satisfied with what she saw, patted him once more and returned to her chair. He slid further back in his father’s recliner, relaxing into the well-worn seat gingerly but no longer with the sense he didn’t belong there.
“Kelly is coming for dinner.” She picked up her knitting, untangled it, and set to work. “Would you like to stay?”
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SENDING BENJAMIN HOME on Saturday night had been the right thing to do. Not what Lynn had wanted to do, but the right thing.
He’d recovered well, but he’d been overthrown by the discovery his mother was dating. He was hurting and vulnerable and though she knew he would have accepted an invitation to her bed with alacrity, she would have felt as if she was taking advantage of his turmoil.
Sunday was laundry day and the warm, comforting scents of detergent and dryer sheets filled the house. Between chores and Oscar, she kept busy, though nothing completely prevented her from wondering how it was going with Thea and Benjamin. She kept her phone close, ready for his call—which didn’t come until Oscar was in bed.
She was curled on the couch under a soft, fluffy throw with her latest binge-worthy escape streaming on the television. Hitting pause, she swept up her phone and answered.
“Did I catch you at a good time?” Benjamin sounded tired but calm. “I would have called earlier but I ended up having dinner with my mom and Kelly and by the time I got home it was around Oscar’s bedtime so I figured I should wait.”
She was struck yet again at his consideration, his total acceptance of Oscar, and had to clear the tenderness from her throat before she could speak. “I appreciate the thought. He’s down and out. I have plenty of time to talk now.” She plumped a pillow behind her back and slid down the cushions, stretching her legs toward the opposite arm of the sofa. “So, how did it go?”
“Better than I expected. Kelly seems a good guy.”
“I’m glad. It must still be hard. Seeing him with your mom.” She picked at a loose thread in the blanket and bit back a curse when it unravelled, creating a hole.
“It’s weird. He’s different than my dad. Loud when he was quiet. Likes to cook when he didn’t know how to boil water. I never would have picked him for her.”
“As long as he treats her well. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Yeah.” He sighed, long and slow. “Anyway, enough about my mother. When can I see you again?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch but she answered in a teasing tone. “Tomorrow at the arena?”
He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant. I want to kiss you again. Somewhere more comfortable than the front seat of my car.”
Desire glowed low in her belly. “I like the sound of that.”
“Friday evening is open.” His tone was both hopeful and suggestive.
“Stephanie and I are going to a Christmas party hosted by our book club that night.”
“I guess that won’t work then.” His disappointment rang through the speaker.
“Unless you wanted to come along? To the Christmas party? Don’t let the book club part scare you off. I can guarantee it will be not what you expect.” She held her breath. It was one thing, going to a restaurant together. It was another entirely to invite him into her life, to meet her friends, her chosen family. Was he ready for that step? Was she? “We wouldn’t have to stay late. There’d still be time after to be...alone.”
An approving hum rumbled in her ear. “That sounds great.”
“Awesome. I’ll text you the details.” Her fingertips tingled with anticipation.
After a pause, Benjamin said, “I suppose I should let you go.”
She snuggled deeper onto the cushions. “Only if you have to. I have nowhere to be.” She liked the intimacy of his voice. It made her feel warm and connected.
“Me, neither.” Another comfortable pause, and then, “What were you doing when I called?”
She opened her mouth to answer with the boring truth, closed it for a moment, and then started again. “I had just gotten out of the bath.”
“Oh?” The fatigue in his tone vanished.
“I’m lying on my bed in nothing but a towel.”
“Ohhhh.” His response was almost a growl.
Her breasts tingled and she slid one hand under the loose waistband of her pajama pants. She wore no panties and her centre was warm and wet. Her breath hitched and she moaned. “Should I tell you what I’m doing now?”
“Don’t leave anything out.”