21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Hold on to your tea cups, my darling Puckleberries, because our Golden Boy’s been spotted far from the ice today!
After missing a practice (not like our boy at all), Shep Landon was seen at a local burger joint, deep in what looked like serious conversation.
Our local hero is certainly keeping us on our toes.
Stay tuned, I have a feeling this story’s just getting started! ~Penni’s Puckleberry Tea
Shep
I swung through a drive-thru, grabbed a bag of burgers for both of us, and pointed the truck toward my sister’s place.
Hannah had shut down any mention of homework, and we both knew she felt more comfortable at Shy’s—for now.
I couldn’t blame her. But damn, I was looking forward to the day she wanted to be in my home.
Should I bring up the whole running-away thing now or wait until we got there? Here, in the truck, we could avoid eye contact. Here, in the confined space, neither of us could bolt.
I turned the music down, kept my eyes on the sluggish line of cars ahead, and braced for impact. “So, we’re gonna have to talk about it.”
Hannah shifted in the passenger seat and I darted her a quick look only to see the back of her head, her face reflecting in the window.
“I get it has to be tough, new place, new school. New everything. But you can’t run off. Is this a thing you do? You ran off in our building, too.”
No response.
“I want to say the right words here, Hannah, but we both know I have no clue what the right words are. I’m brand new to this whole dad thing.”
“Not like I’ve ever had a dad, either.”
I nodded. “Right. We’re both figuring it out as we go. I think that makes our situation pretty cool. We can learn together. We got ourselves all kinds of father-daughter bonding opportunities.”
“So weird.”
“Cool. You meant cool there.”
The aroma of the burgers filled the cab of the truck, the hum of the traffic just discernible through the windows. I sucked in a slow breath, let it out with an even slower exhale. Then manned up. “What happened today?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing doesn’t make a kid run away from her school.”
No response.
“Would it make you feel better if we called your grandmother? Would you talk to her about whatever it is that’s bothering you?”
She jerked around in the seat, eyes wide and horrified. “Don’t call Grams!”
I darted her a look, eased into a right hand turn and then slid into a spot on the street in front of Tiago’s building. Perfect timing. “Okay.” I killed the ignition. “No calls to your grandmother. But you gotta give me something here. What gives?”
“Kenzie sent pictures from her brother’s hockey match yesterday.” She flicked the wheel on her board, setting it spinning.
Kenzie. Best friend. That much I knew.
Hannah’s voice wobbled. “She sent pictures from her brother’s hockey game yesterday. Everyone went for pizza after. They were all posting about it. I was supposed to be there too, but I’m stuck here.”
“Man, that sucks.” And it did. No softening it. I scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn’t sound completely useless. “You’ll make new friends, Hannah. More friends.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Kids here already have their friends.”
The truth in her words landed like a crosscheck to the ribs.
She’d transferred weeks into the semester, thrown into a lineup already set.
Like guys coming in at the trade deadline.
Fournier always made sure those players got extra attention—paired them with veterans to help smooth the transition.
Someone to text at midnight when the new city felt too big. Too strange.
Maybe the school had something similar. A mentor program or buddy system.
“You know, Hannah-bean, we deal with this in hockey all the time. Guys get traded mid-season, show up not knowing anyone. New city, new team, new everything. The captain usually helps them settle in. Your school do anything like that?”
“You ever been traded?”
I’d been born and raised two hours northwest of here.
My chest tightened. Born and bred Renegade, carefully cultivated by scouts since I first showed promise.
They’d steered me clear of the draft, straight into free agency.
One monster rookie contract later, barely a cup of coffee in the AHL before hitting NHL ice.
Another fat contract secured my future, the captain’s C waiting for me when Fournier retired—as long as I didn’t screw up.
Not exactly what a lonely kid needed to hear.
“Been with the Renegades since day one. Lucky that way.”
She turned back to the window, shoulders tight.
I rustled the paper bags, the scent of burgers filling the truck cab. She twisted away from the window. “You’re susceptible to bribery. Good to know.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m hungry.”
“I have a deal for you. We have a game tonight, off tomorrow, then games the next two nights. Which takes us to the weekend. I have a matinee game on Sunday, but we’re off on Saturday. If you stay in school, do your best the rest of the week, how about we hit the skatepark on Saturday?”
“I won’t know anyone there.”
“But you’ll be on your frog board.” And people were naturally friendlier when they had something in common.
“I guess.”
“We have a deal?”
She answered with a huge bite of burger, but I caught her tiny nod.
“Last thing I wanna say before we head up. That’s another situation we have to figure out.
We can’t be relying on Shy all the time.
” I balled up the wrapper from my burger and shoved it into the bag.
“I just wanna say…” I trailed off, rolled my shoulders.
Man up, asshole. I sought my daughter’s gaze and held it.
“Thanks for calling me. I’m really glad you called and let me come get you. ”
“Let you?”
I nodded. “I figure you had a lot of choices. She may be hours away and in the middle of something serious, but I get the idea your grandmother would drop everything if you made it clear you needed her.”
“Guess so.”
“She would. She loves you. She wants us to have a relationship. That’s the only reason you’re here.
And I’m seriously grateful. Sad that it took a medical scare to make it happen, but grateful all the same.
So yeah,” I said, running my hand through my hair, “you could have called her, but you called me instead.”
I held her gaze, fought past the burn climbing my neck.
A week ago, I’d thought picking out room decor made me a good father.
Now I understood. Being there when she was lost mattered more than any neon frog sign.
“I’ll always come for you, Hannah. No matter what, no matter where.
You’re my daughter.” The word settled in my chest, filling spaces I hadn’t known were empty.
“We’ve got time to figure out the rest—the bonding, the trust, all of it.
But you’re mine and I’m yours. If you need me, I’ll be there. Every single time.”
Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt, but she nodded. Just once, just barely. Not the bright grin from our shopping trip, but something deeper. Something real.
Maybe I couldn’t fix everything. Couldn’t make her new school feel like home or replace the friends she’d left behind. But I could show up. Be the father I’d never had. One burger, one phone call, one promise at a time.