Page 54 of The Man in the Cottage

"And then it got less friendly." Kelly's jaw tightens. "She started talking about how you've been hiding out here instead of dealing with your problems. How you have obligations you're ignoring. How you're using this—" she gestures around "—as an escape."

I close my eyes. "Kelly—"

"Wait. There's more." She takes a breath. "She implied I was after your money. Asked what I wanted from you. Called me 'some woman you barely know.'"

The words hit like a punch. I open my eyes and see Kelly watching me, calm and steady, waiting for my reaction.

"I'm going to kill her," I say.

"You're not going to kill anyone. We've talked about this."

"This is different. This is—" I stand up because I can't sit still anymore, pacing across the living room like a caged animal. "She had no right. No right to come here, to ambush you, to say those things. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know I didn't."

"And you didn't know who I was. You didn't know about the money or the hockey or any of it. She had no reason to—"

"Travis." Kelly's voice cuts through my spiral. "I handled it. I told her to leave."

I stop pacing. "You did?"

"I did." There's a hint of pride in her expression. "I told her she was insulting me in my own home, and I asked her to go."

"And she went?"

"She went. Not happily, but she went." Kelly shrugs. "I don't think she's used to people pushing back."

I stare at her. This woman who's known my family for all of thirty minutes, who stood up to my mother when people who've known her for years won't do it. Something expands in my chest, warm and overwhelming.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that."

"Don't apologize for them. You didn't do anything wrong either."

"But they're my family. They're my problem."

"They showed up uninvited. That's not your fault." She stands and crosses to where I'm standing, putting her hands on my arms. "But I need to understand, Travis. What is going on with your family? Why did they come here? Why are they like this?"

I take a deep breath. This is the part I've been avoiding, the part I never talk about because it makes me sound ungrateful or bitter or both. But Kelly deserves the truth. After what she just went through, she deserves all of it.

"Sit down," I say. "This might take a while."

We settle on the couch, closer this time, her knee touching mine. I stare at my hands for a moment, trying to figure out where to start.

"When I got drafted," I say, "I was twenty-two years old. I'd never had money before—not real money, not the kind that changes things. My parents were working class. My dad did construction, my mom was a receptionist. We weren't poor, but we weren't comfortable either. And then suddenly I had this contract, this signing bonus, all this money I didn't know what to do with."

Kelly nods, listening.

"My family... they had ideas. My dad wanted to retire early. My mom wanted a new house. My sister wanted me to pay for her wedding, her car, her student loans." I shake my head. "And I did it. I said yes to everything because I felt guilty. I'd gotten lucky, and they hadn't, and it seemed wrong to keep it all for myself."

"That doesn't sound unreasonable."

"It wasn't, at first. But it never stopped. Every time I turned around, there was something else. My dad's truck broke down—could I buy him a new one? My mom's friend needed surgery—could I help with the bills? My sister wanted to start a business—could I invest?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I was twenty-four years old, and I was supporting my entire extended family. And the more I gave, the more they expected."

"How much are we talking about?"

"Hundreds of thousands. Over the years, probably over a million." I see her eyes widen and shrug. "Hockey pays well, but it doesn't pay forever. And I was burning through it because I didn't know how to say no."

"What changed?"