His Forgotten Night, Our Secret Son

n P

you a playboy and every sports panel replays your temper on the ice, then suddenly you're back

n the screen of my phone, its bitterness cutting t

n Bennett: "Welcome home. Don't be late for the barbecue to

f silence and made my decision for me: leave Colorado, accept the trade to the Boston Reb

Then I hit Hannah's name a

"Ready for your lecture, superst

scar above my eyebrow-a souvenir from a high stick and a reminder

when she needed you the most, Ryan? Out partying with models? Or g

e as a hothead, a playboy, a ticking time bomb. I swallowed the bi

inson's, Ryan. This isn't a bad season

, stealing all the oxygen from the room. I ended the call wit

refrigerator. I walked into the kitchen and ripped open the first cardboard box I saw. Inside wa

ot. I needed a long-term contract to pay for M

ght. Looking at it made my skin crawl. I remembered the fight with my former captain, Jonathan Prescott-his fist coming at me, my temper snappi

with my foot. I coul

up my phone, and typed a quick r

saved without a name. A number from six years ago. Claire Bennett. Golde

But the hospital called before I could, and Mom's medical crisis swallowed everything that followed. By the time I finally

it again, even though I knew it was probably dead. Calling her meant reopening a night

nd and kids. I was a walking disaster. I had no right to

ndle all the way to cold and stepped under the spray. The freezing water hit my s

ogged glass. From now on, it was j

k my gear. I pulled out my shoulder pads, my skates, my gloves, wiping them down one

inviting me to a family dinner next week. I typed back a quick "yes." Going h

the Rebels mug, and filled it with t

n. The sports channel flared to life. Two analy

ility," the man in the suit said, shaking his head. "Is this