Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance Kate Willoughby (read full novel .TXT) 📖

I felt some of the tension leave his body but when he stepped back, his expression was still tense.

“If you love me—”

I balked. “Don’t you dare start a sentence like that.”

He ignored me.

“If you love me, you’ll let me tell you why you need to stay out here when I talk to him.”

I crossed my arms. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“I’m going to assume that we both hope our relationship will keep getting better and that maybe we can have a future together. Maybe marriage, maybe kids. Who knows? We’ll take it one step at a time. Am I doing okay so far?”

“Yes. Yes to all of that.”

“That means we’re going to have to deal with each other’s families and unfortunately, my dad has made one hell of a shitty first impression and if you go with me to talk to him…” Running his hands through his hair, he sighed heavily. “I’m afraid he’ll say or do something to make you hate him forever. Yes, he can be an asshole sometimes, but I swear he has a lot of good qualities too and I just…I just want there to be a chance you’ll come to appreciate them someday.”

All this time I’d thought he was trying to protect me from more of his dad’s disapproval and while I appreciated and understood that, I wasn’t willing to let him do it. I had a few things I wanted to say to Dom myself, to show him I wasn’t a pushover and I wasn’t going to take any verbal abuse from him.

But I’d been completely off base. Hudson was worried that the conflict tonight would escalate to the point of no return. That I would be so hurt, any relationship I might have had with his dad would be ruined forever. It was a testament to how much he cared about me and how much he cared about his dad and I had to respect that.

Hudson asked me to wait upstairs in our room while he talked to Dom in the wine cellar. I thought about watching TV to distract myself but found myself Googling his dad instead. What I found wasn’t surprising—a lot of evidence that he could be an asshole on and off the ice, but as Hudson had sworn, a lot of evidence he had a heart too. He was quite the philanthropist, supporting a host of charities and foundations. He was outspoken about many issues that I felt strongly about too and, judging from the number of photographs and articles, it seemed as if the Grant A Wish Foundation had his number on speed dial.

I liked to think of myself as a rational person who didn’t make rash decisions based on hurt feelings, so I eventually resolved to give Dom a second chance. It meant so much to Hudson that I get along with his dad, and if our situations were reversed and he was butting heads with my dad for some reason, I—

The door to our room burst open.

“Pack your stuff,” Hudson said. “We’re leaving.”

Crap. His face was so red it looked as if he’d just finished playing a tough game of hockey.

“We are?” I asked. It was over six hours back to Burlington. “We won’t get home until after two.”

“I don’t care,” he said through gritted teeth. “As expected, Dad doubled down on his dickish behavior, so we’re leaving to prove a point. We both need some cooling off time and we’ll both be less likely to rehash shit if I’m at school.”

Now I really wanted to know what had been said, but I knew Hudson wouldn’t tell me and I don’t know what was worse—not knowing or letting my imagination conjure up possibilities.

31

Indi

Two weeks had passed since Thanksgiving and except for the Domholery—a term I’d invented that Hudson found hilariously spot-on—I had an amazing boyfriend who loved me and despite the amount of time we spent in bed, I was still maintaining my GPA. I also felt confident that I’d do pretty well on the MCAT practice test I’d scheduled tomorrow. Like the real MCAT, it was going to be a timed marathon of almost eight hours. The idea was to make the experience as close to the real thing as possible. Afterward, I’d be able to look at the results and see where my weaknesses were.

Hudson and his dad still weren’t speaking, but he assured me the situation wasn’t permanent and that eventually they’d work things out. But that was the least of his problems.

We’d since cleaned his ears out using the kit from the pharmacy, but he was still suffering from occasional tinnitus. I also noticed more and more often he had trouble hearing me when I whispered or spoke in low tones. These things, along with some troubling balance issues he’d mentioned, prompted me do a little online research. What I found was alarming.

All his symptoms pointed toward otosclerosis, an abnormal growth of one of the bones in the ear, which could lead to varying degrees of hearing loss. There were a lot of careers in which moderate hearing loss wouldn’t pose much of a problem. Professional hockey wasn’t one of them. Every time I thought about Hudson having to quit hockey because of a medical condition, I felt sick inside. I told myself I was jumping to conclusions and that I should refrain from practicing medicine before I had a license.

Besides, otosclerosis was a rare condition, and the chances Hudson had it were slim.

And yet every time I saw him pull at his ear or had to repeat what I’d said because he hadn’t heard me, I wondered if I should say something.

One night after a particularly bad performance on the ice, he was pissed with himself. AJ had gone to the Biscuit in the Basket with the rest of the team, but Hudson wasn’t in the mood. Thinking this might be a good time to broach the subject, I accompanied him to his apartment.

“Jesus, did