[𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄]
𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒
30 Months...
Almost three years since my accident. My first game playing pro in the NHL and I blew it. Many people have tried to help me but I'm past giving a fuck now. I just want to be left alone to drink my s...
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"Crap, crap, crap."
I mutter running back down the stairs and into the hallway while rifling through my bag. I pause for a second and turn to see his blue grey eyes staring up at me expectantly.
"Don't copy that." I warn watching the way his little face stretches into a grin. "I mean it. Mommy says some bad words sometimes okay, but you can't copy them."
He giggles, his checks pink with heat after running around all morning trying to find his gear that surrounds him at his feet. I warn him not to say it but the truth is he is so quiet he never really says much.
The speech therapist warned that it could be a delay as he was premature or that he was just a kid that was shy and kept to himself. This is where all the gear came into play. The one thing he loved was ice hockey, it was the only thing to soothe him when he was teething. I would put it on the T.V and bam I can get all the chores done while he was occupied. It was a life saver only now he want's to play.
Except every tryout for over 2's they have said no.
"He needs to speak up more."
"He needs to be more forceful."
"You are aware this is an aggressive sport ma'am?"
Yes I am aware but do I care? No!
You want to know why? Because if my son wants to play ice hockey then he will damn well play ice hockey. No if's, and's or but's.
Therefore here we are on my only day off rushing to get to the rink on time. I pleaded with the manager to tell me when the rink would be completely empty so he could practice on his own. Yet I can't seem to find my car keys. I swear I had them a moment ago.
"Let me go check the kitchen, mommy will be right back."
Rushing down the hall still shoving everything around in my bag I don't watch where I am walking and the next thing I know my head makes contact with the door frame.
"Ow, shit."
Rubbing my head and frowning in confusion at the frame, I barely register the tiny laugh from behind me.
"Mommy silly."
My heart melts and it takes everything in me not to stand and coo at him but I know we will be late if I don't find them soon. So sending him a smile I walk into the light green kitchen Papa helped me decorate once Lucas was home.
