Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance, Kate Willoughby [best books to read for young adults .TXT] 📗

you see me out there? It’s like I have two left feet,” he swore. “I don’t know what to do. Why is this happening? It’s like I can’t even trust my own body. I wish I knew what the fuck was going on.”

I took a deep breath and said in a deliberately quiet voice, “I might know.”

“What was that?”

“I said, I might know.”

He stared at me. “Really?”

I nodded. “Come sit down.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

I didn’t reply until he was next to me on the sofa. Deciding a direct approach was best, I said, “I think you have otosclerosis.”

“Oto-what?”

“Otosclerosis. It's a rare abnormal growth of bone in the inner ear and you have all the symptoms—difficulty hearing low sounds or whispers, like just now, occasional dizziness and balance problems, tinnitus.”

He was scowling at me, but I continued because he hadn’t heard the worst part.

“There are two types of hearing loss associated with otosclerosis, conductive and sensorineural. Conductive hearing loss is the better of the two because with sensorineural, there’s a possibility of permanent hearing loss.”

His face and turned the exact shade of red it had been after his argument with his father. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying I’m going deaf?”

“Hudson, weren’t you listening?”

“Maybe I didn’t hear you,” he said with a sarcastic smirk I didn’t appreciate.

“Look, don’t kill the messenger. I’m just telling you what I know.”

“What you know. Let’s talk about that,” he said. “You’re not even in medical school yet. Where do you get off telling me I’m going deaf?”

“I didn’t say you were going deaf. See? You weren’t listening. Permanent hearing loss is only one of the outcomes, but I only told you that because you need to take this seriously. You need to go see an otolaryngologist and get examined.”

“Fat chance.”

“Hudson, please. I know you’re afraid, but you have to get over it. That thing that happened was when you were a kid…”

He started laughing but it was a cruel sort of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I’m not the one who’s afraid to even fucking go outside unless I spend an hour in front of the mirror.” Then he mockingly mimed me putting my makeup on. “‘I’m afraid someone will see my face and call me names.’ Talk about living in fear.”

This time I was the one staring. Had he really said that, done that? I was trying to help him, damn it, and this was how he responded. I’d thought that saying about seeing red was just that, a saying, but right now, my vision did seem to be tinged with red. If I hadn’t been so infuriated, I might have looked up the reason behind that phenomenon.

Tears threatened but I swore once to never let a bully see me cry and I wasn’t about to start now. With as much dignity as I could manage, I got my purse and left, somehow managing not to slam the door behind me.

32

Hudson

When it rains, it pours. Everything in my life was in the shitter and I didn’t know how to fix it.

It had all started with that disaster of a Thanksgiving where my dad demonstrated just how big a prick he could be. I’d wanted to look around for the reality show cameras. That’s how unreal it had felt. No one in the family had known how to react when he’d started in on Indi.

Not wanting to continue making everyone uncomfortable, I’d waited until all the guests had left and then asked if I could have a moment with him in the cellar. I’d intended to call him out on his dickhead behavior but instead, he started in on me, on my erratic game play.

I should have known that was coming. Every time I got on the ice lately it was like taking my chances on a slot machine. Sometimes, I’d hit the jackpot and be on fire. I’d nail my passes, win face-offs, assist, score… But other times, I’d stink. I’d be too late getting into position, misunderstand a teammate, or I’d fucking fall flat on my face.

“It’s like some alien kidnapped my son and left a fake Forte in his place,” my dad had said. “I can only think of two reasons why this is going on. One, the draft went to your head and you think you've got it made and can kick back. Well, I have news for you, that ain’t the case. You cannot afford to slack off until you’ve signed that NHL contract.”

“I’m not slacking off. I bust my ass every night and leave everything on the ice, just like I always have.”

“I didn’t think so because it’s far more likely that you’re listening more to your little head than your big head.”

“Jesus, Dad.”

“How many times have I told you not to let a woman rule your life?”

“She’s not ruling my life, Dad. She’s adding to it, making it better in every way.”

“There’s your dick talking again.”

“I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about friendship and support, about being okay with my crazy schedule and how sometimes hockey has to come before she does.”

“Exactly! You don’t realize it, but she’s playing a long game. She wants that golden ring, son.” He pointed to the band on his left hand. “She wants to marry you so she can live the life of luxury and never work another day in her life.”

The idea was so preposterous, I couldn’t even formulate a response. Indi was as laser-focused on her medical career as I was on hockey. I was usually the one wanting to blow off workouts and extra training so I could spend time with her instead of the other way around. But my dad was on a roll.

“That’s why she’s going along with everything you want, accepting that she’s a lower priority and fucking your brains out every chance she—”

“STOP!” I yelled, every muscle in my body rigid with rage. “You need to shut