Free Cade: Fire And Ice: A Second Chance Hockey Romance by Jessica Lake, Alana Hart Page A

ruthless, sugar-coated ambition for her son. If I'd been older, or if I'd grown up with adults who were anything other than obviously dysfunctional, I might have thought harder about the whole tack she was taking, which boiled down to my presence in Cade's life being a huge risk to his future. She kept touching my arm, too. Stupidly, I enjoyed it, desperate as I was for anything that even vaguely resembled motherly kindness.
    "Perhaps at some point in the future, when Cade is more settled into his hockey career, the two of you will be able to build something real. But for right now, if you truly want the best for him, you need to understand that any distractions could hurt him badly."
    "Mm. Yes." I replied as my throat started to thicken at the thought of not being part of Cade's life anymore.
    Mrs. Parker noticed it when I swiped the dirty cuff of my sweatshirt under my eyes, trying to catch the tears before they fell.
    "Aw, Ellie. You look like you need a hug. Do you need a hug?"
    I did need a hug. I needed a lifetime of hugs. When Cade's mother put her arms around me and stroked my hair, I clung to her for a few seconds, too tightly. A loud, ugly sob welled up in my throat and I didn't quite manage to contain it. A few people looked over at us.
    "Do you need a ride home, dear?"
    I sniffed hard, desperately trying to quell the teary, childish hiccups that were threatening to break out and nodded that yes, I needed a ride home. I didn't, actually. But I wanted to spend more time with Mrs. Parker. It wasn't a conscious thought at all and I don't think I was even aware of it at the time. Like a stray dog shown a tiny kindness I was embarrassingly grateful for the affection she showed me.
    When she pulled up a half-block away from my trailer, Cade's mom turned to face me.
    "Do you understand what I've been saying, Ellie? Do you understand why a relationship for Cade right now could be disastrous for his future?"
    "Yes," I whispered.
    "Don't be upset, sweetheart. I know it feels like the only thing in the world right now, but you'll see. You'll grow up and meet a good man and look back on all of this as if it was nothing. And if you ever need to talk, feel free to give me a call. Do you have a phone?"
    I didn't have a phone so she wrote her number on a piece of paper and handed it to me, holding it back at the last second as if she'd just thought of something.
    "Oh, and Ellie? One more thing..."
    I looked up at her, absurdly hopeful that she might be about to ask me to meet her regularly for cupcakes and girl talk and the mothering I so completely lacked.
    "It's best if you don't talk to Cade about this. I'm trying to keep it all separate from him so he can concentrate on his hockey. How does that sound to you?"
    "I won't say anything." I said, so eager to please a person who had no interest in my well-being that just thinking of it years later was enough to make me cry.
    "That's good to hear. I trust you."
    I was naive at eighteen. More naive than most other eighteen year olds. But I wasn't stupid. I fell for Mrs. Parker's concerned mom act, yeah, but at the same time I understood that she was basically right. I was a distraction for Cade. He was going to leave soon, for another city and another life and I was going to stay in North Falls to look after the three little boys who had literally no one else to do it for them. It wasn't going to be temporary, either. Baby Ben was only two years old and it was going to be a very long time until he was able to look after himself.
    I fixed dinner for the boys and sat down with them as they ate. They didn't have anyone except me. I had to stay with them, nothing else was possible. David looked up at one point as he shoveled another spoonful of soup into his mouth.
    "Are you sad, Ellie? Your face looks funny."
    "No," I lied, "I'm not sad. I'm just thinking about how much I love all of you."
    The last part wasn't a lie. It was a truth that couldn't be ignored or put aside or downplayed.