If You Love Me: Chapter 25

My desk is covered in paper, my whiteboard looks like my brain exploded all over it, and Fee’s school just called asking me to pick her up, because she’s been suspended. Today has been a clusterfuck.

I save all my work and make sure it’s on the cloud. At least it’s not a game day, or I’d be totally screwed. I slide my phone and laptop into my bag, pull my door closed behind me. “It’ll be fine, just explain the situation. He has kids, he’ll understand,” I mutter to myself as I walk down the hall to Vander Zee’s office. My stomach flipflops anyway. I hate that I don’t have the strategy plan finished, but I’ve been agonizing over it for three hours, hung up on the little details. Second-guessing every decision. Not wanting to disappoint Vander Zee, or the team.

I knock on his door, and he calls me in. “You ready to talk through your plan? I didn’t see it come through my email yet.”

“I’m almost there, just a few pieces to iron out, but Fee has an emergency at school, and I need to pick her up. I know we’re supposed to meet before I leave to discuss it, but I might need to send it from home later tonight, if I can’t make it back here.”

He nods. “That’s fine. As long as I can look it over tonight, we can meet in the morning to talk it through. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” I lie.

He narrows his eyes, obviously questioning the truth of my statement. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Will do. Thanks. And I’m sorry about this.”

“No problem.”

I rush down the hall and wait impatiently for the elevator.

And of course, because today isn’t hard enough, I run right into Roman when the doors finally open. He’s not alone, though. Donnie also steps out. In the months since I’ve been here, he hasn’t warmed up to me in the slightest. Thankfully our interactions are limited and I’m meticulous about logging the equipment.

“Hey.” Roman’s eyes light up for a moment before his brow furrows. “Are you okay, Le—Coach Forrester?”

I force a smile. “I’m fine. Just a minor school emergency.” I brush by him and step into the elevator, glancing at Donnie, who seems far too interested in this interaction. Or maybe I’m being paranoid. “Have a good afternoon.” I punch the close-door button, cutting off Roman’s concerned expression.

Dred knowing is one thing, but if someone in the office finds out, I’ll be in so much trouble.

I don’t have time to worry about that, though, not with whatever is going on with Fee. It’s well past the end of the school day by the time I arrive. At least Callie takes a bus directly to hockey practice, so she’s fine for now. I’m escorted into the principal’s office to have a conversation about Fee’s recent concerning behavior, and the resulting five-day suspension.

Not for the first time, I question whether I can handle this, if I’m equipped to be my sisters’ guardian, if all I’ll do is mess them up. Here’s hoping a therapist can fix what I might be breaking.

I assure the administration team that I’ll handle things and usher Fee into the car.

“Possession with intent to distribute, Fee? What the hell were you thinking?” I grip the steering wheel as I drive to Callie’s hockey practice.

Her arms are crossed, she’s slouched in her seat, and her hood is up. “It’s not that big a deal. They’re making it seem like I was dealing drugs. It’s just vapes.”

“Hood down so I can see your face.”

She sighs dramatically.

“Hood down.”

She yanks it off but drops her head so her curtain of hair covers her face.

“If it was one vape, I might be able to get over it, but you were carrying several. So either your friends are using you as their keeper, or you are intending to sell them. Either is bad. So which one is it?”

“My friends aren’t using me,” she snaps.

“So you planned to sell them, then.”

“No! Oh my God. I’m not selling vapes.”

“So why were you carrying all your friends’ vapes?”

“Because that’s what we do. One person carries them, and we trade off every day.”

So only one person takes the heat. It’s smart and stupid at the same time. “When did you start vaping?”

“Just like…this year.”

“You’re a dancer, Fee. It’s a terrible habit.”

Her head bangs against the seat, and she rolls her eyes. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“Well, apparently you do, because you’re now suspended from school for the next five days! You’re grounded until further notice.”

“You’re not my mom! You can’t ground me!”

I know it’s not personal, but it still hurts. “I may not be your mother, but whether you like it or not, I’m responsible for you. Do you have any idea how hard life will be if you end up with a criminal record, Fee?”

“They’re fucking vapes!” she shouts.

I pull into the arena parking lot and find a spot, shifting into park before I turn to her. “Do not yell at me. I get that nothing about life is easy for you right now, but I didn’t make this bad decision for you.”

“You’re the one who moved us to Toronto!”

“You were on board with this move,” I remind her, then sigh. “Look, this isn’t a productive conversation. I’m heated, and you’re heated. But you can’t get suspended from school and expect there to be no punishment.”

“The suspension is the punishment.”

“The suspension is the consequence. The punishment is a result of the suspension.” I cut the engine. “Come on.”

“I’m staying here.”

“It’s minus fifteen. I’m not leaving the keys, and you’ll be frozen in five minutes. While I appreciate that you’re also unhappy with the situation you’ve put yourself in, I will not have you dying of hypothermia because you have the same stubborn gene as me,” I snap.

Her chin wobbles, and she dashes her tears away. “I need a fucking minute, okay?”

I struggle to keep myself in check, to not cry along with her. “I’m coming back out to get you in ten minutes if you’re not in the arena by then.”

“Fine.”

I open the door. “I might not love your current choice, but I love you, Fee.”

She sniffles but doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll check on you in a bit.”

I leave her in the car and head inside, where I stop in the bathroom and take a moment to get myself under control. I’m so close to a complete breakdown. I want to call Dred, but she’s at work, and calling Roman will add to the layers of complication I’m already buried under.

I get my shit together, leave the bathroom, and go to Callie’s rink. But when I get there, Callie isn’t in the net. She’s not even in her goalie gear. Instead she’s sitting in the stands behind the bench with Glenda Barton, one of the assistant coaches.

“Is everything okay?”

Glenda gives me one of those smiles that tells me everything is not okay. Callie’s arms are crossed, and she’s slumped in her seat. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Glenda pats her on the arm and meets me at the end of the row, motioning for me to follow her down the hall.

I don’t know what to do with my hands so I stuff them in my jacket pockets. When we get to her office, Glenda looks like this is the last thing she wants to handle.

“What did Callie do?” That’s the only reason I can see her being off the ice. If she was hurt in some way, Glenda wouldn’t have pulled me aside.

“She got into it with one of her teammates,” Glenda says.

“Got into it how?” I ask.

“She shoved him and pinned him to the ice when he went down.”

“Oh my gosh. Why would she do that?”

“He was chirping her. He absolutely said things that weren’t acceptable, and he’s been removed from practice today, too. But if we hadn’t pulled her off, we were worried she would have hit him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Callie is a lot of things, but violent isn’t usually one of them.

“Me, too. I wish we would have caught things sooner, and I feel awful. I know how important hockey is to Callie, but we have zero tolerance for physical violence.”

“I get it. How long is she out?” It’s her one escape, and I worry about how she’ll deal—and how I’ll manage without an after-school program for any length of time.

“Three practices.”

“Is she allowed to watch?” I ask.

“We’re asking the other player to stay home for the next two practices, and we’d ask that Callie do the same, just for some cool-off and reflection time. But after that, she can support the team by sitting in the stands if she wants.”

At least Fee will be home to help manage, so there’s that. “Okay. I understand. I’m sorry about this. I’ll have a talk with her.”

“I know you have a lot on your plate. This can’t be easy for your family.”

“I appreciate your compassion, but it certainly doesn’t excuse Callie’s behavior. I’ll impress upon her the importance of handling interactions like these with words instead of aggression.”

I return to the rink to gather Callie and her equipment, and we go out to the car.

Unlike Fee, she doesn’t give me sass. She follows along, side-eyeing me as I stride through the parking lot. I just need to get them home, dole out punishments, and have a private emotional breakdown of my own.

Fee is in the front seat, trying to use makeup to hide the fact that her eyes are puffy. “I was just coming in.” She frowns. “Practice isn’t over yet.”

“It is for Callie.” I direct her into the back seat and round the driver’s side.

“What happened?” Fee asks as I close the door behind me.

“Callie got into a fight, so she has a few days off from hockey practice.”

“But he⁠—”

I hold up my hand. “Not now. Let’s get home, and then we can deal.”

Callie bites her lips together.

I turn the engine over and focus on getting us back to the condo. I’m so out of my depth. I have no idea how to deal with a teenager who was caught vaping and an eight-year-old who’s picking fights with her teammates.

The drive home is tense. Every part of me feels like it’s sparking. My dad won’t be any help. He basically moved to New York when I was a toddler, and I only saw him on holidays and for a month in the summer. He had me in hockey camp out there, and I spent almost all my time on the ice when I visited him. He didn’t have to parent me. I was too busy to find trouble.

Callie is crying as silently as she can by the time we get home, and Fee isn’t much better. She helps Callie out of the back seat, I grab Callie’s hockey equipment, and we pile into the elevator. I’m choking on the silence, on the certainty that I’m messing these girls up. That I can’t hack it. That I’ll crack under the pressure.

My phone buzzes with new messages. “Fuck.” I still have to finish the strategy plans for Vander Zee tonight.

Callie’s head snaps in my direction.

I don’t apologize for the swear. I’m exhausted, overwhelmed, and terrified that I’m headed for a cliff with no brakes. I pull my phone from my pocket. There are new messages in the Babe Brigade chat, which is normal, but I also have new messages from Roman—one from more than an hour ago, and one recent.

Followed by the recent one:

I look toward the ceiling, trying to keep my emotions in check. I’m reaching my breaking point, and here he is, being so sweet and thoughtful.

“Lexi?”

“I’m fine,” I croak.

I type a quick reply.

We’re barely in the door before my phone rings. Of course it’s Roman. “I need to take this,” I tell my sisters. “I would like both of you to go to your rooms. I’ll call you when I’m ready to discuss your choices today.” I wait until they’ve disappeared down the hall before I answer the call. “Hey.”

“You never write text messages with exclamation marks. What’s wrong?”

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break. The first sob escapes, and I slap a palm over my mouth and rush down the hall to my bedroom. Throwing the door closed, I lock it and disappear into the closet so my sisters can’t hear me losing it.

“Lexi, angel, I’m on my way over. I’m leaving now. I’ll be fifteen minutes at the most.”

“You d-d-don’t⁠—”

“No arguments. I’m already on my way. Take a breath. I’m not hanging up, the reception might be crappy for a minute, and if I lose you, I’ll call back as soon as I’m out of the parking garage. Breathe with me, okay?” He counts to four and back down to one.

I follow the soothing cadence of his voice. “This is so hard, Roman.”

“What happened? Are your sisters okay?” he asks.

“Yes. No. They’re okay, but they’re not coping. I’m not coping. I feel like I’m drowning,” I whisper.

“I’ll be there soon, okay? And we’ll figure it out together.” A car starts. “You don’t have to do this on your own.” He keeps talking, assuring me I’ve got this, and he’ll help me through it.

My walls are crumbling. Having Roman come here is the wrong thing to do. But I need him. So I don’t lie and say I’ll be fine. I stay on the line while he drives to my place.

“Okay. I’m here and parked. Just buzz me in, and I’ll be up in a minute.”