The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland

CHAPTER 29




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Max



“I bought tickets to that charity hockey exhibition game you’re playing in next week,” Mom said. “I thought I’d fly down the day before and stay a few days so I can see your new place.”

“I told you they gave me tickets for free. It just slipped my mind to forward you the email.”

“It’s for charity. I wanted to pay for them.”

I nodded and poked at the pot roast she made every time I visited. It was usually my favorite.

“Are you okay, Max?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

My mother leveled me with what my brothers and I had called the mom eyes growing up. Those things were better than truth serum. None of us had any idea how she did it, but with one look, she pulled whatever was lurking inside us out. It was like she knew the truth, and she just waited patiently for us to spill it.

I sighed and dragged a hand through my hair. “I miss Georgia.”

Mom patted my hand. “What happened? I thought you two were doing so well and had something special.”

I shrugged. “We did.”

“So why are you missing her? Get on a plane and go visit. Practice doesn’t start for a while yet, right?”

“Yeah. But she doesn’t want to see me.”

“Did you two have a falling out or something?”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

I frowned and looked up at my mother. “I don’t want her to get hurt. If…you know.”

Understanding dawned on her face. “Oh, no, Max. Have you discussed things with her?”

I didn’t even have to answer. I just looked at my mom, and she shut her eyes.

“Max.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“Because Georgia is as loyal and pigheaded as they come. She’d be adamant that it didn’t matter. But it would…if.”

“So you made the choice for her?”

“It was for her own good.”

“Bullshit.”

I blinked a few times. My mother did not curse.

“I stood by your decision to not have the surgery because it’s your body and your choice. I stood by your decision to keep playing hockey—even though it’s the dumbest thing you could possibly do because you get whacked in the head a hundred times a season and that could easily cause a rupture and kill you—because hockey has been the love of your life since you could talk. But I will not sit here and accept that you are going to walk away from a woman you care about out of some false sense of chivalry to protect her. Do you love Georgia?”

I nodded and hung my head.

“Then how can you have no regard for her needs? There were two people in your relationship, yet you’re acting like you’re the only one.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing, Ma. I want what’s best for her.”

She sat back down and took a deep breath. “I understand that your intentions were honorable, but you don’t get to decide what’s best for anyone but you. Don’t you think I wanted to decide you couldn’t play hockey because it was too risky? What if I’d gone to your team and told them about your condition? They’d have disqualified you from playing. You know they would—”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because what I’m doing is only hurting myself.”

My mother stared at me. “Really? So if you drop dead on the ice after a stick to the head, the only one who would be hurt is you?”

I sighed. My head had been so screwed up since leaving New York. I’d lost Georgia and then Otto died—right when he’d finally decided to leave work and spend time with his family. I couldn’t help but think he never got the chance because he waited too long, and I was essentially doing the same damn thing. Never once, since Austin died, had I questioned whether I was making the right decision. Until recently.

I spoke quietly. “Maybe I should just have the surgery.”

Tears filled my mother’s eyes. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Even when I retire someday, there’s still going to be that unknown hanging over my head. And it’s…gotten bigger.”

My mother’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, Max. How do you know?”

“I had another scan a month or so ago when I was out in California. I went to the same doctor who did Austin’s surgery and all of our scans.”

“That’s your first visit to a doctor for it since your diagnosis?”

I nodded again.

“Are you having symptoms?”

I shook my head. “I just thought… I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I was hoping it had disappeared or something. But I wanted to know.”

My mother smiled sadly. “You wanted to know because of Georgia.”

“Maybe. I guess. Probably.” I paused, feeling tangled in my thoughts. “I feel like a coward. I made Austin have the surgery, but I’m too chicken shit to go under the knife myself.”

My mother shook her head. “What are you talking about? You made Austin do it?”

“When he was diagnosed, Austin asked me what I would do if I were in his place.” I swallowed and tasted salt in my throat. “I said I’d have the surgery. And I promised him he wouldn’t die.”