Page 63 of Cut Off
The chess set works; I hear them arguing over board placement instantly.
And then it’s just me and Gwen Anders, standing in her front entryway. One step from a courtroom, one step from a street fight.
I don’t even bother with pleasantries. “You took my child.”
She laughs—polite, brittle. “I had permission, Jonah. He’s my grandchild. He even shares my last name. The principal, Ms. Finnegan, knows me through Rosie. She was thrilled I’d been united with my dead daughter’s son. You can imagine what that means to an old woman like me.”
I shake my head, my vision going red. I want to scream, and that old rage that’s been controlled and buried rises up. I press my lips together so hard they go numb, but this can never happen, even one more time. I grit, “If you kidnap my son again, I’ll end you.”
“Kidnap?” This time, her laugh is nervous. “Please.”
“You know what you did,” I say, low, “and you know you won’t be allowed to do it again. Once I get custody, this is done.”
She smiles wider, like a shark. “Exactly. You won’t let me see my own grandson. That’s why I have to win custody, which I will do.” There’s no doubt in her voice. She thinks she’s got this in the bag, and the confidence in it makes my skin crawl.
“We’ll see about that.” I pivot, then stomp off, my boots rattling the loose floorboards.
A tightness sits in my chest that’s not adrenaline anymore—it’s fear. This isn’t going away just because I want it to. Gwen’ll use every trick, every sad story, every favor she’s got left.
But first, I need to get my kid out of here.
In the SUV, Zoe’s at the wheel. I guess she figured I’m in no condition to drive, and she’s probably right. Eli’s already buckled in, chess set open in his lap.
I slide into the passenger seat, then slam the door. I need to talk to Zoe, but not in front of Eli.
He glances up at me in the rearview mirror. “You should go do drills, Jonah. It will lower your stress levels.”
I blink. “Since when do you know about stress levels?”
He shrugs, straight-faced. “Since everyone around me is always talking about mine. For me, reading helps. Zoe says exercise is best for you. Also, you really need to improve your game so they’ll let you play again. You’re gonna get even worse if you don’t.”
I bite back a laugh. The urge to hug him and headlock him at the same time is overwhelming.
“Man, you’re a tough customer,” I say, mouthing thanks to Zoe as she drives down the road. “They gave me time off to be with you. And yeah, do drills. Which sucks, by the way.”
“If they suck, that means they’re hard. If they’re hard, the only way to get better is to do them more. Mom told me anything worth doing isn’t easy.” He pauses. “Is hockey worth doing?”
Ididn’t see that one coming.
A lump the size of a puck jams in my throat.
Zoe settles her hand on mine, her skin cool and steady. “Yeah. Is it?” She glances at me—and it’s not a challenge or a dare. It’s real. Like maybe she’s been waiting for me to answer it for weeks.
I swallow. “It was. It still is when the pressure’s off. But lately, I’ve been struggling, and I’m not happy when I’m letting myself and my team down.”
Eli leans forward, voice clear and sure. “So get better. I believe in you.”
Four fucking words.I believe in you.
If you told me two weeks ago that this’d matter more to me than any locker room speech or press interview, I’d have laughed you off the ice. But right now, it just about breaks me open.
My voice goes rough. “That means more to me than you’ll ever know, buddy. I mean… Eli.”
He grins, toothy and bright. “You can call me buddy if you want.”
Zoe swipes the corner of her eye. But I can’t look away from Eli—not now, not ever. He’s still holding the black queen, rolling it between his fingers.
The rest of the drive is a blur, but not in the way the first one was. I still hate Gwen. I still want to put my fist through a wall. But there’s something else now—a flicker of hope that what’s broken between Eli and me is healing.
