Find Me in the Rain: Hockey Romance (Nighthawks Book 1)

My mind blocks out the reason why I’m following Dr. Mercer and Angie into an empty conference room. The what-ifs try to break through my walls, but they don’t stand a chance against the denial that is keeping me on my feet.

“Right in here.” Dr. Mercer’s soft voice pulls me into the room. “Please, take a seat.”

My body responds to his words without thought. I can’t take my eyes off of him, begging him to tell me everything’s okay and that this is just another long talk about my bills and how to handle them.

Angie sits beside me, and I instinctively reach out and take her hand, trying to brace for the impact.

I’ve never been a big person when it comes to religion, but I send a prayer to every and any god that will listen to not let this be what I think it is.

Dr. Mercer clears his throat. “Late last night, your mother had another stroke. Her heart stopped, in turn stopping blood from pumping to her brain and other organs.” He hesitates and takes a deep breath. “We did everything we could. I’m sorry, Laura. Your mother passed away last night.”

The breath I just inhaled stalls, sitting midway in my chest. Buzzing sounds in my ears, and my eyes slam shut.

My heart bleeds into my word. “Please.”

Dr. Mercer shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Laura. Please take as much time as you need.”

I don’t fully feel it yet. I don’t think my brain will allow me to. I think the pain building in my chest might actually kill me.

But as the door clicks shut behind him, my brain shuts off, and there is no wall stopping the soul-shattering agony from ripping through my body.

I just saw her. I just saw her. She was alive and right there. I was holding her hand and telling her about Alec and—

It hits me.

The missed phone call last night.

It wasn’t about the bills.

It was them calling me about my mom.

And I just ignored it. I ignored it!

What if I would have been able to say goodbye and I missed it?

It’s too much.

Regret, anger, love, agony. It’s all fighting to take the top spot and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t.

Images flood my mind.

My mom brushing my hair before bed when I was young. When she showed up at my school and surprised me with my first dog and everyone was so jealous. When I told her I was pregnant and she didn’t even miss a beat and went right into planning mode. When my water broke and she helped me bring Jack into the world. When she held him for the first time—I didn’t think that I could feel any more love than I did at that moment.

My mind bounces to her stroke. When she didn’t wake up. When I realized the last thing I’d said to her wasn’t I love you.

To bringing Jack to see his grandma in the hospital bed for the first time. To lying in her hospital bed with her and wrapping her arm around me, pretending we were back in our old house and I had just climbed into her bed.

To right now, knowing I will never get to see her beautiful eyes again, never get to feel her put her hand on my shoulder when life gets to be too much. I’ll never get to feel her arms wrap around mine. I’ll never get to have her walk me down the aisle or go wedding-dress shopping.

And Jack.

Jack will never get all the moments I was already so lucky to have with her.

Everything.

Inside.

Of.

Me.

Breaks.

The first tear rolls down my cheek—a sign of the storm that’s about to explode out of me.

I kick my chair back, throwing it against the wall. A guttural scream rips out of me as I back up until I feel the coolness of the wall against my thin shirt.

I fumble for my phone and scroll to Alec’s number. I need him. I need him so much right now.

Right as I’m about to press it, Char’s picture appears on my screen.

I slide to answer as my last scream rips through the room, and her cheery voice greets me. “Hey, Laura. What’re you doing?”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

When Char speaks again, her voice is quiet. “Laura?”

Summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I get two words out, thick with my tears. “She’s gone.”

“Oh my God. Laura, take a deep breath, honey. I am so sorry. I’m grabbing my keys. I’m coming. We’re all coming right now.”

Charlotte’s always been there, even when I didn’t know I needed it. So has Josh. And now, they are all I have left in this world.

She’s gone, she’s really gone.

Loneliness settles into every cell in my body, and to be honest, I don’t know that this feeling will ever leave me.

The next two days are full of, “I’m sorry for your loss,” and, “I’m here if you need me.”

When people say that, I wonder if they actually mean it or if they say it just to make themselves feel less awkward.

Charlotte took care of all the funeral arrangements and left me and Jack to mourn peacefully in my room instead of picking casket liners and flowers.

I owe her more than she could ever know.

When Char picked me up from the hospital, she had Josh and Jack with her. Josh drove my car home and took Jack for ice cream, so I had time to figure out how to tell him.

And I told him the truth. That Grandma was sick and they couldn’t fix her. He asked a thousand questions, which I’d fully expected. And I answered each one as best I could.

We went through old photo albums, through all of the photos on my phone and laptop, and I showed him all the pictures of Mom and me through the years. We had looked through them before, but it felt much different now.

These pictures are truly moments frozen in time. Moments I will never get more of.

The last memory I will have with my mom will involve lowering her in the ground. Part of me wishes this were something I could skip, something I didn’t have to be a part of.

But I know that no matter how desperately I don’t want to feel that pain, that pain needs to be felt for it to leave me.

At least the pain will be sooner than later. I slip my black panty-hosed feet into my booties and grab my black trench to go with the rest of my black attire.

I opted out of any ounce of makeup, knowing it will be sliding down my face before we even arrive at the church.

I might not have been very religious, but my mom was. She believed we all had a purpose and a path that would find us. But she didn’t force it on me. She said that when the time came, it would find me.

I grab my phone and walk to Jack’s room, where he is tying his tie around his neck, like he does to his shoelaces. I drop to my knees in front of him, stifling a laugh that rises in my throat. Guilt washes over me that a laugh could even form at all.

“Here, buddy, it’s like this.” I undo his knot and retie the only tie he owns.

Charlotte picked everything up for us while Josh has been keeping the house clean and keeping us fed and alive.

“Mommy?” his quiet voice asks.

I meet his saddened gaze.

“What will happen to Grandma today?”

I grab his shoulders and pull him down with me as we sit on the floor. “Grandma is going to get a new home, a place in the earth, where we can always go to visit her. To talk to her, tell her about our day, the good and the bad, just like we did in the hospital.”

His eyes drift to the side in thought, and then he says, “Can we go see her tomorrow too?”

I nod. “Of course.”

I take his little hand in mine and guide us down the stairs, where Charlotte and Josh are waiting. Without a word, we get into the car and drive through the rain to say a final good-bye to the best mom in the world.

Charlotte kept the ceremony small when planning; she knew I wouldn’t want a ton of people around. But once my mom’s name hit the paper, people all over town wanted to be able to attend, to mourn. And who am I to say they aren’t allowed?

When we pull up to the church, a line of people are working their way inside. I take a deep breath in, the air catching in my throat every other second.

Josh parks the car, and I beg my body to stop. To not go inside, to just pretend this isn’t real. That she isn’t really gone.

But I can’t do that to Jack, I can’t do that to myself, and I can’t do that to her.

When we get out of the car, Jack reaches for my hand, giving it a little squeeze. That’s my boy, always looking out for me.

On our way in, everyone offers sad smiles, followed by the phrases you’d expect.

“I’m so sorry.”

“She was such a wonderful woman.”

“She will be missed.”

It continues, even after we take our seats in the front pew. And the tears haven’t stopped streaming down my face since we arrived.

The pastor takes the podium, silence greeting him. Silence should be calming, peaceful. But it’s not. In the silence, all I hear is her voice, her laugh, her cry. The silence is in the moments that have passed and the ones we’ll never see. The silence is eating me alive.

My breaths quicken as he gives an opening prayer.

Breathe. I try to calm myself, but nothing’s working. And the spiraling pressure in my chest and lungs is tightening.

I need air. I need fresh air.

I’m on my feet before I know it, barreling down the aisle to the doors. Not a word is said as I burst through them into the pouring rain.

I lift my head up, letting the water blend with the wetness already on my cheeks. The coldness is refreshing and numbing at the same time.

Each drop that hits my face brings me a little closer to calm. And by the time my breathing is normal, I’m drenched head to toe.

I turn and place my hands on the banister of the stairs. But not before something catches my eye.

Not something, but someone.

And not just anyone.

I take my first step off the stairs and run as fast as I can.

And I don’t stop until Alec’s arms are around me, and the closest thing I’ve felt to peace in days settles into my chest.