Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(11)

Glenn's eyes cast downward for a second in shame over his curse word but then they pop right back up to me, filled with hope. "Do you think you can get me an autograph, Sutton? It doesn't have to be much … just on a piece of paper or something."

My heart tumbles, seizes and then melts over Glenn's simple request. He's an amazing kid, eleven years my junior and he never asks for anything. My mom and stepdad don't make a lot of money but they have managed to give Glenn and me a damn good life. We may have grown up wearing thrift store clothing and having lean Christmases, but we never lacked for our basic necessities, and we were given so much love and devotion from our parents that we never missed the things we did without.

At eleven, Glenn is old enough to know the bounds of our parents' abilities, even as he watches his friends sporting expensive clothing and carrying the very best of iPhones, iPads, gaming devices and toys. He doesn't ask for these things because he knows our parents can't afford them, and he never pouts, whines or tries to lay a guilt trip on them about it. But as he sits here staring at me with bright, shining eyes, he knows the cost of an autograph is nothing more than a simple request for me to make to Alex, and I'm not going to deny him that.

I'm pretty sure Alex would give me an autograph if I asked. He was quite the ass when he stomped out of my office, verifying for me that he must, indeed, be the team's bad boy. But I feel there's something else there too.

I sense there is a reason for the way he is. Call it my counselor intuition, or maybe it's just plain wishful thinking so I don't have to deal with an asshole that is an asshole for no other reason than he likes being that way.

Either way, it's going to be interesting to see how this plays out.

"Sure, kiddo," I say as I tousle his hair. "I'll get something from him next time I see him."

"Yes!" Glenn yells and gives a fist pump in the air. "Everyone at school will die when they see it."

"You'll be the talk of the class," Mom says, her eyes warm and grateful as she watches the exuberance on Glenn's face. Then she lifts her gaze to mine and her expression to me says, Thank you, baby, for making Glenn happy. He deserves it.

I can feel tears prickle at my eyes so I blink rapidly, and say, "Okay, who is ready for some lasagna?"

"I'm ready for my birthday cake," Glenn says with a grin.

Pushing the spatula into the pan, I lift out a slice and place it on Glenn's plate. "Lasagna first, then cake," I tell him.

"Then presents?" he asks hopefully.

"We'll discuss it if you eat all of your dinner," Mom says.

Glenn picks up his fork and dives in before I even get the second slice out of the pan. I shake my head with a smile on my face, pulling another piece out.



       
         
       
        

"Here you go, Jim-Dad," I say affectionately as I place the cheesy pile on his plate.

"Thanks, baby. Looks great," he says.

My stepdad is a real-life, bona fide angel. He took my mom and me in when I was just nine years old. We had been living at a women's shelter for about five months, and while we were safe, warm and had food in our stomachs, we were lonely.

My mom, Penny, met Jim Murdock when he came into the drugstore where she worked the front register. The story has been changed and manipulated so many times over the years, I'm not sure really what went down, but they both claim it was love at first sight. Of course, my mom was wary, having come out of a violent relationship with my father, but it didn't take long for Mom to fall under Jim's special brand of magic, and it didn't take long for me to warm up to him either.

Within a year, Mom had married Jim, and within another six months, he had become Jim-Dad to me. Another year after that my baby brother had been born, and my life was absolutely perfect.

Considering we came from a pretty hellish life prior to that, it didn't take much to give Mom and me security. But Jim's kind words and soft touch, the roof over our heads and the knowledge that we would never suffer again gave Mom and me the best existence we could have ever hoped for.

"Honey, I love what you've done with your kitchen," Mom says as she looks at the curtains I hung last weekend. They were on sale at Wal-Mart, and while they were an expenditure I really shouldn't have made, I couldn't resist the cheerful pattern of yellow lemons that I knew would be perfect over the sink window. I had just painted the kitchen a similar color of yellow and did the dingy oak cabinets in a glossy white with new hardware I found on sale. I bought this house just shy of four months ago for practically a song and a dance. It's not in the greatest section of town, it was in foreclosure-which is why I got it so cheap-and it needs a hell of a lot of work.