36. Like Olivia, But Tall & Minus The Boobs
CARTER
If I were to add up all the hours, I’m certain I’ve spent more of my life in arenas than in any other place, including my own home, or the one I grew up in. They’re not new to me, the smell, the noise, the excitement that races up my spine every time I set foot in one.
But this, kids dashing around, the smell of freshly baked cookies at the snack bar, the strong coffees every parent clings to to get them through another morning at the rink…well, it’s not new to me, either, but it’s sure as hell not something I’ve experienced in a while.
Being here brings with it a flood of happy memories, years I spent in rinks like this one, where my dad taught me to skate, where my parents cheered me, where they helped me become the person I am today by helping me follow my dreams.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch someone’s blatant stare, the way they nudge the person next to them as I check out the board that tells me which of the four rinks I need to go.
Being recognized at a place like this on a Saturday morning was always going to be inevitable, but this game isn’t about me, so I tug my toque down a little farther and adjust the scarf around my neck as I make my way to the yellow rink.
A shiver shakes my spine at the sharp bite of the rink as I push through a set of swinging doors.
Stepping up to the plexiglass in one corner, I smile at the girls zipping around the ice, ponytails flying out behind them.
My heart cracks wide open when I spot Olivia standing in the doorway of the bench, talking animatedly to a girl who on skates isn’t that far off in height from her, regardless of this being the eight-and-under league.
“Well, I’ll be fucking damned. Carter Beckett, slumming it at the local rink.”
Twisting, I meet the gaze of the man who’s sidled up next to me. He’s tall, but shorter than me. Broad, but not as broad as me. With dark brown hair and eyes that match, paired with a smirk that tells me he’s been waiting for this day for a while now, just not in the way most people do.
I note the baby strapped to his chest, gnawing on a silicone hockey skate. He’s got a glob of drool dangling from his chin, coating his dad’s jacket. “Should you be swearing in front of your kid? Doesn’t seem like a very good impression to set for little Jem.”
I enjoy the surprise that paints his face when he realizes I know exactly who he is, but how could I not? He looks remarkably like Olivia except—
“Damnit, she really does look like me, doesn’t she?”
“Except—”
“Except I have a kid strapped to my chest instead of a pair of tits?”
“I was gonna say the height difference, but sure, we’ll go with that.” Olivia’s tits are perfect, but I feel like he wouldn’t appreciate that elaboration.
“What are you doing here?” Jeremy asks, looking me over with disdain. I’m pretty sure he’s hellbent on not liking me. “Ollie didn’t say you were coming.”
“She doesn’t know. I’m not supposed to come to any games.”
“And you came anyway?”
“Mhmm.” I do what I want, clearly. Olivia knows that but her brother might not. “Caught an early flight back.”
“You paid for your own flight back instead of flying with the team? Why would you do that?”
Because I’m rich and I can? “Because I wanted to see your sister coach and watch your daughter play. Ollie said Alannah wanted me to come to a game.” All things I’ve practiced saying for when Olivia reams me out for coming.
I turn back to the ice where Olivia’s still talking to that brown-haired girl. Laughing, she grips her cage and gives it a little shake.
“Which one’s your daughter?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know.
Jeremy points at Olivia and the brunette. “The one who won’t leave her side.”
She throws her arms around Olivia’s middle, hugging her tight, before Olivia ushers her onto the ice with a little pat on her bum.
Alannah’s eyes coast across the stands, likely looking for her parents, and when they settle on Jeremy, her face lights up and she starts waving.
And then she sees me.
Her stick clatters to the ground and her jaw hangs as she stands there, staring. And then shrieking. She’s shrieking and I’m laughing. She jumps up and down on her skates before rushing back to the bench and crushing Olivia in another hug that nearly knocks her on her ass.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you , Auntie Ollie,” I hear her shouting from here, and Olivia’s fucking lost, looking from Alannah to the ice, to the stands, to her brother, to…
Me.
I lift my gloved hand and give my fingers a wiggle. Her face ignites with the most brilliant, cheek-splitting beam.
“Damn,” Jeremy mutters. “Was totally counting on her being pissed at you for showing up unannounced.”
Before I can agree, Alannah whips across the ice, leaps into midair, and slams her lanky body against the glass in front of me.
“I’m gonna score a goal for you!” she shrieks. “I can’t wait for you to see!”
“What about me?” Jeremy asks. “You gonna score one for your old man?”
Alannah scoffs. “Get lost, Dad. There’s a new man in town.”
Jeremy swears under his breath before gesturing toward the stands. “Well, come on. My wife refuses to stand, and she’s had her panties in a knot since she saw you walk in here.”
* * *
Olivia’s team crushes the other. It gets so bad that she has to tell the girls to ease up halfway through the second period.
Alannah scores two goals and gets an assist, and like she’s got my DNA, she points at me after both goals before winding up her arm and pretending her hockey stick is a guitar and she’s rocking out to an insane solo.
Her mom, Kristin, is mortified, burying her face in her hands, and Jeremy and I battle for the loudest adult in the stands.
I win, obviously, but Jeremy will try to tell you differently. Maybe that’s why when the girls exit the change room together, we elbow each other out of the way, trying to be the first one to get to them. I win again. Obviously.
Olivia’s nose scrunches with her smile before she attaches herself to me. “You’re here, and I’m not even mad about it.”
“Does that mean I get to do more stuff I’m not allowed to do?” For example, there’s this hole that I—
“No.”
Damnit .
Hooking a finger under her chin, I tip her face up to mine for a soft kiss, ignoring the gagging noise her brother makes. I’ve missed these lips so much it’s ridiculous. “I missed you, pip-squeak.”
“Hey.” The little girl at Olivia’s side gives me a half wave before leaning against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, like this here is no big deal.
She flicks her head up in a nod. “Hi. What’s up?
I’m Alannah. You can call me Lana. Or Lanny.
Or Al. Or Allie. Or just…” She lifts a lazy shoulder and lets it fall. “Alannah.”
I don’t have a chance to respond before her small fists are at her mouth, barely covering the shrieking burst of laughter flying from her throat. She launches herself at me, gangly limbs wrapping around my body.
Chuckling, I hold her tight. “You kicked some serious ass out there, Lanny. Oh shit. Am I allowed to say ass? Oh shit. I said shit. Shit, I said it again.” Well, this is going swimmingly.
“Daddy says bad words all the time.” Alannah slides down my body and throws her arms around her parents, kissing her brother on the cheek.
“Sometimes Mommy makes him go down to the basement for a time-out and then he has to put money in the swear jar. Then Mommy uses that money to buy new shoes and the fancy wine.”
My gaze slides to Kristin. “How much money do I owe the swear jar?”
“Four swears equals four dollars.” She holds out her hand, curling her fingers into her palm. “Pay up, buddy. Mama needs the fancy wine.”
I slap a ten in her hand and tell her to keep the change, because I’ll probably owe more by the end of this day.
Alannah rummages through the messenger bag hanging off Olivia’s shoulder, coming out with a Sharpie. “Can you sign my stick?”
“Can I sign your stick?” I shake my head as I scrawl my name over the taped blade. “Dude, I should be asking you to sign mine after the way you played.”
“ Dude .” Alannah lets out a puff of giggles, extra anxious as she swoons back onto Olivia, who lets out an oomph as she’s forced to hold her niece up. “Carter Beckett just called me dude.”
I flash her a wink. “What are you guys up to now? Can I take everyone to lunch?”
“ Yes ! I’m having lunch with a superstar, I’m having lunch with a superstar,” she sings, doing some sort of weird dance. Flossing, I think it’s called?
“Oh, well, we have that thing…” Jeremy scratches his head.
Kristin slaps his hand away. “We have no thing. Don’t pretend like you aren’t fangirling hard right now at the thought of having lunch with him. You can’t wait to text all your friends.” She smiles at me. “We’d love to have lunch. Thank you so much, Carter.”
“Where are we going?” Alannah asks as I sling my arm around her shoulders and head for the parking lot.
“Well, what’s your favorite food?”
“Pizza and chicken wings, dude!”
“ Dude .” I drop my head back with a groan. “We’re gonna be best friends.”
“Can I ride with you, Carter?”
“Alannah,” Jeremy sighs. “No. He wants space, I’m sure.”
My shoulders pop up and down. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Please, please, please,” she begs her dad, gripping his coat, giving him a shake.
“Fine. But you have to take your booster seat.”
“I’m almost eight.” Alannah huffs, crossing her arms and popping her hip out, real Attitude-y Judy. “Car seats are for babies.”
“And when you’re eight, you can ditch the booster.” He shoves it into my chest with a grin, as if I have any fucking clue how to install this thing. “But for now, you’re still my ittle-wittle baby.”
Olivia laughs at the face I’m making, taking the seat from me and clipping it into my backseat. “You’re an angel,” she whispers, kissing me on the cheek. “I came with them, so I can ride with you, but my bag for the weekend is still at home.”