Chapter 1 #2
“Sounds like a robin. Want to go see if we can find him?” Carter holds up a coat, pink with white hearts stitched around the hem.
Charlie nods. “Can I have some nuggets first?”
“It’s not quite time to eat. But I think everything will be ready soon.”
“She had some,” Charlie says, turning her gaze toward me.
My eyes widen even as Carter gives me a playful look. “Did she, now?”
“Just a small sample,” I say, though I have no idea why I have to justify myself to a six-year-old. Or a man I don’t know.
Carter’s lips lift into a small smile, those blue eyes flashing. “She must have been really hungry,” he says without breaking eye contact.
There is nothing even remotely flirty about his sentence, and yet, the low rumble of his words sends a skitter of goosebumps racing down my arms. He isn’t even talking directly to me—just about me. And my body is still reacting.
Then again, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been around a man this handsome. I could just be out of practice.
“She can absolutely have one,” I say, finally finding my voice. “There’s plenty. Anna asked me to pick them up for all the kids.”
Carter’s expression brightens. “Oh. You’re Sarah.”
My eyebrows lift. “Yes?”
“I was just talking to Miles about you moving to Atlanta.” He lifts his hand and points at his eyes. “And you and Miles have the same eyes. Seemed like a safe bet.”
I turn and lift the lid off the platter of chicken and motion to Charlie. “Is this okay? She doesn’t have any allergies?”
He quickly shakes his head. “She’s fine. Her dad won’t care.”
Charlie grabs a couple of chicken nuggets, and I replace the lid on the tray, then watch as she darts across the driveway toward the lawn with surprising speed, considering the cumbersome goalie pads.
“Charlie, your coat,” Carter calls.
“I don’t need it,” she yells back.
It isn’t exactly warm outside, not for January, and Charlie’s nose was already a little pink. But it’s not so cold that she’ll freeze without it.
Carter looks at me and shrugs. “She was born here, but she’s got Canadian blood. She probably thinks this feels like spring.”
“Ha. Yeah. I can relate.”
“Winnipeg, right?” Carter says. “How long have you been in the States? Did you come when Miles moved here?”
I remind myself that I’m Miles’s sister, and Miles is Carter’s teammate, so it makes sense he would know where we’re from. But it’s still disconcerting to have him know so much about me. Disconcerting—but not altogether unpleasant.
“No—I stayed in Canada until I was nineteen. Which means it’s been…almost seven years? I came for art school. I did my undergrad, then my master’s and graduated last year.”
“Yeah, Miles told me,” Carter says. “I had a cousin who went to SCAD. Years ago, but she loved it.”
Suspicion pricks at the back of my mind. This is more than just knowing we’re from Winnipeg. Miles seems to have said a lot about me. Which is unusual. He’s usually pretty protective of me when it comes to his teammates.
“I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself,” Carter says, extending his hand. “I’m Carter Williamson.”
“Right. Uncle Carter,” I say, slipping my palm into his. His grip is strong and his hand is warm, making me suddenly aware of how cold mine has become.
“Not her real uncle,” he clarifies. “But Holly’s raising Charlie—Charlotte—on his own now, so we all pitch in.”
He says this like I should know Holly, so I just nod. “Right. So she’s got…twenty-two uncles?”
There’s a sadness behind his eyes that makes me wonder who Holly is and why he’s parenting alone. “Something like that,” Carter says. He tilts his head in the direction Charlie ran and holds up her coat. “I should…”
“Right. Definitely. Canadian blood can only get her so far.”
Before he leaves, he steps close and lifts the lid off the tray to steal his own chicken nugget.
He holds my gaze as he pops it into his mouth.
“It was nice to meet you, Sarah.” He offers me a teasing grin, and it’s all I can do not to suck in a gasp.
Carter Williamson is handsome. But when he smiles, handsome turns into something else entirely.
“Be sure to save some chicken for the rest of the kids,” he says, then he turns and walks away.
I’m still flustered when I find Anna in the kitchen. I set the chicken nuggets onto the counter, then tug her into the large butler’s pantry past the fridge, away from the small crowd milling around the island and picking at the appetizers.
She doesn’t even flinch at the disruption, but she does grab a box of animal crackers off the pantry shelf. She helps herself to a handful. “I swear, this baby is making me so carb-hungry,” she says before popping a cracker into her mouth. “What’s up with you?”
“I want to know why Miles is talking about me with one of his teammates.”
“He is? Which one?”
“Carter Williamson,” I say. “He knew I went to SCAD, that I’m from Winnipeg, that I’m an artist…”
“You’re Miles’s sister,” she says. “Of course Carter knows you’re from Winnipeg.”
“Fine. But you know how Miles is. He’d die before wanting me to date any of these guys. Why is he talking about me at all?”
She rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t die. He’s only protective because he thinks you need protecting. You could always just tell him you don’t.”
I prop my hands on my hips. “Are you avoiding my question?”
“Of course not. I’m just sure it’s nothing. Miles talks about you because he loves you and he’s proud of you. Carter just pays attention more than most people do. That’s probably what you noticed.”
“That he pays attention?”
She waves her hand around like she’s annoyed I’m not grasping her meaning.
“He listens. And remembers stuff. Like…he’ll ask me about Poppy’s dance recital if he hears me mention taking her to rehearsal.
Or, after my mom died, the team got together and sent flowers, but Carter made a separate donation to the animal shelter because a year before, he met Mom at a team dinner, and she mentioned she volunteered there. ”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s legit.”
“He’s just that guy. Thoughtful. Kind. Super courteous.”
I lean against the wall behind me, considering this new information. “It hardly seems fair,” I say. “He’s a pro athlete, he looks the way he looks, and he’s a good guy?”
“I know, right? And here I thought your brother was the only one.”
I reach over and steal an animal cracker. “Miles forgot your anniversary last year.”
She frowns. “He did, didn’t he? I guess it’s lucky he’s so good in bed.”
“Anna, gross,” I grumble, though I’m used to her making comments like this. My brother and his wife are disgustingly in love.
“The point is,” Anna says, “you could do a lot worse than Carter Williamson. He’s genuinely a great guy.
” She moves to the pantry door and looks across the kitchen to where it blends into the open concept living room.
“He’s also an identical twin. His brother is nice too, but Carter’s my favorite because of how much my girls love him.
” She points. “Right there. Standing next to the fireplace talking to Holly. That’s Carter’s brother, Theo. ”
Sure enough, there is a man who looks remarkably similar to Carter standing on the opposite end of the living room. His hair is a little longer and he’s clean-shaven, but everything else about him is pretty much the same.
“Holy genetics,” I mutter under my breath, and Anna chuckles.
“Right?”
“And they both play professional hockey. What are the odds?”
“One of the most elite defensive pairings in the league. Carter is left-handed. Theo is right. They’re pretty amazing.”
“Who’s Holly?” I ask. “Carter was outside with a little girl named Charlie.”
Anna’s face softens. “I told you about him, remember? He’s the goalie. Beckett Hollifield. The guys call him Holly. His wife died of cancer last summer.”
“That’s right,” I say, the goalie’s full name triggering my memory. “Around the same time your mom—”
Anna nods, her eyes glazing the slightest bit. “They started scheduling chemo treatments at the same time so they could be there together,” she says. “Claire’s mom was out in California and couldn’t be here as much, so Mom kinda took her under her wing. I think it made it easier on them both.”
It’s nice to think there was something good that came out of last summer.
Watching Anna lose her mom to an aggressive form of breast cancer while she was busy raising two little girls was the worst. I tried to drive up from Savannah as often as my schedule would allow, but I was busy finishing up my master’s degree and could only get away so much.
At least it was the off season, so Miles was around full time. And he had his own personal experience to lean on since we lost our mom to cancer when I was nineteen.
“Honestly, I think I’ve had enough mothers dying of cancer. Can we get a different script or something?”
Anna chuckles and dabs at the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “For real.” She eats another animal cracker and takes a deep breath. “Having this baby without my mom around would be a lot easier if I knew you were going to be here.”
Her voice wobbles, making my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. “Anna, you know if there was anything else I could do to stay, I’d do it.”
“I know,” Anna says. “I just…stupid Canada.” She sniffs. “Actually, just kidding. I love Canada. I just wish you didn’t have to go back.”
“Me too,” I say. But it doesn’t even come close to expressing the intensity of my feelings.
I understand immigration laws. And I respect them.
But it’s been a very long time since Canada has felt like home to me—not since Mom died.
Aside from my dad, whom I hope to never see again, the only family I have lives right here in Atlanta.
Miles, Anna, and their girls.
Living in their backyard the past few weeks has been bittersweet.
Because now I know how amazing it would be if I lived here full time.
Close enough to babysit. To surprise the girls with random outings to get frozen yogurt or go to the park.
Even living in Savannah, I’ve always been close enough to drive.
To be here for birthdays and Christmases and dance recitals and preschool graduations.
But traveling from Canada—it will never be so simple.
“I’m going to do everything I can to get back,” I say. “I just need a year or two to get things off the ground.”
Anna nods, but I don’t like the emotion brimming behind her eyes. I’m sure she doesn’t blame me. She knows what I’m up against when it comes to getting a visa, but I can’t help but feel like I’m abandoning her when she needs me most.
“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” she says wearily. “I’ve been talking to Miles about hiring a nanny. So that’s something good, I guess.”
A nanny would definitely be helpful. The baby’s due in late March, which is right before playoff season.
If I’m lucky, I’ll be here for the birth, but I’ll leave shortly after, and Anna will be alone with three kids six and under.
If her postpartum depression is anything like it was when Olive was born, she’s going to need more than just a nanny.
She’ll need support from her friends. From Miles. From me.
Except I’ll be fifteen hundred miles away.
Anna hands me the box of animal crackers and steps toward the pantry door.
“I need to check on the girls.” She shoots a meaningful look over her shoulder.
She’s putting on a brave face, and I can tell she needs me to let her do it.
“But don’t hide from Carter Williamson,” she adds. “Trust me. He really is a great guy.”
I look into the mostly empty box and reach in for the last few broken bits of cracker. I’m sure he is a great guy. But that hardly matters.
He’s a hockey player. That’s strike one.
He’s Miles’s teammate. Debatable, but that’s probably another strike.
But most of all, I’m leaving. Looking for something new makes zero sense when I’m as good as gone. Strike three.