CHAPTER SIX
Aspen
Somehow, I’ve managed to survive these past few weeks without the help of Callan Miles. Shocking, I know. He hasn’t made any effort to help me, which is fine because I don’t need him or his assholery. We see each other in passing, but no words are ever exchanged. I guess what bothers me more than anything is his lack of respect for me as his boss. Then again, what Cal lacks when it comes to me, he makes up for with the way he treats Tucker.
The two are inseparable. Every day they skate and hang out in the game room. They have a bond, and that scares the shit out of me. What happens to my son when this man leaves him high and dry? Especially since his contract is up at the end of the season. It’s not like I’m going to trade him or prevent his contract from being renewed based on our personal issues; I’m a professional after all, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want to leave the team. I suppose as long as he’s good to my kid, I can’t ask for anything else.
As I sit in my office and work, a video of last season’s game plays on my laptop. A knock sounds at the door. I click the red x to close out of the window on my computer and look up to find Luke standing in the doorway.
“Come on in, Luke. I’m glad you caught me. I was about to grab Tucker and leave early for the day.” “Oh? Big plans today?” He smiles. He really does have a beautiful smile, not that I look at him in a romantic way; he’s old enough to be my dad.
“I’m just registering Tucker for school, then we’re going shopping. I thought I would make it a long weekend.”
“He’s a hoot. The guys seem to love him.”
“That he is. But I know you didn’t come here to talk about my kid. What’s up?” I ask curiously.
Luke scratches the back of his neck nervously. He walks in and sits down in a chair in front of my desk. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans forward. “I didn’t want to put this on you when you first started, but we’re going to need to hire a new general manager.”
“Umm . . . Okay?” I frown. I don’t have a clue how this stuff works. I thought the owner was pretty much the same as a GM. I wait for him to elaborate.
“Hannah can help you, but our old GM retired right before your father’s sudden passing, and I was left as interim GM. Mr. West was in the middle of the hiring process but hadn’t made a final decision. My daughter has the notes on the prospects, and if you need help, I don’t mind sitting in on a few interviews. I hate to put this on you right now, but my focus needs to be on the team I have, and the GM will focus on building the future team.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Luke! I had no idea.”
That makes sense; though, I thought the coach did the team building. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m learning, and I really shouldn’t beat myself up too much over this.
“It’s no big deal. I was just hoping you might be able to hire someone before the season starts.”
“Absolutely. I’ll start on that first thing Monday morning.”
Luke picks up a baby picture of Tucker that my father had left on his desk. Dusting it off, he beams. “He really is a great kid. I know your dad was proud.” He sets the picture back down in its place and knocks on my desk. “Well, now that my business is concluded, I guess I’ll let you have at it.”
We both stand up as I gather my things, then make our way out the door.
“Thanks, Luke. If there is anything else you need, please don’t hesitate. Like I said, this is all very new to me, and I’m going to need guidance. I really want everything to run smoothly without too many hiccups.”
“Thank you for being so receptive,” he says.
I poke my head into the game room to tell Tucker we’re leaving, but it’s empty. “Where’s Tucker?” I say to no one in particular. I roll my eyes because I know exactly where I’ll find him this time of day if he’s not in the game room.
“I saw him down on the ice with Cal on my way up here.” Luke puts his hands in his pockets as we both stroll down to the rink together.
He and I watch Tucker try to fake Cal out, but of course, Cal can see it from a mile away and steals the puck from him.
“Alright, Tuck, listen, the guys you play against are going to study you. They’re going to pick apart your weaknesses on the ice. You’re right-handed, and guys will pay attention to that. The best way to fake someone out is to skate up the left, wind up—almost like you’re going to shoot, but instead you need to slice the puck to the backhand, then slice back to the forehand. Like this,” Cal demonstrates. “When you do that, make sure to include your body and your head. You’re going to cut across, wind up, and shoot. Now, let’s go.”
Tucker takes off skating to the left, then does a series of moves too fast and complicated for my eyes to follow. When he’s inches within reach of the goal, he winds up, shooting the puck into the net.
Cal skates over to Tucker, picks him up, and spins him around.
“You did it, Tuck! Did you see that? You did it exactly right that time!” Shrieks of laughter spill from Tucker, and my heart stops. I don’t know if it’s from seeing Tucker so happy, seeing a man with him in this way, or from the pure terror that Cal might drop him.
“Now, try it out on me,” Cal says, setting him back down.
Tucker handles the stick with quick movements, alternating the puck between the back of his stick and the front. Cal closes in on him. Tucker shoots the puck between Cal’s legs. He dekes, recovers, then takes a shot that sends the puck flying into the goal again. What just happened?
“Nice wrist shot,” Cal calls out.
“Who’s the man?” Tucker yells, nodding his head and putting his arms in the air. “Better watch out, dude.” He points the hockey stick at Cal. “I might take your job.” They fist bump, laughing.
“No doubt! I can see it now: you playing in the pros for your mom.” Cal looks up, and a huge smile lights up his entire face when his eyes meet mine. I know that smile isn’t for me, but God, with him smiling like that, I can’t help my body’s reaction. My heart skips a beat, and butterflies take flight in my stomach. Cal is beautiful. Okay, he’s not just beautiful; he’s insanely hot, especially when he’s with my kid . . . and not scowling . . . or talking. Luke clears his throat, and the connection breaks. I try to curtain my face with my hair, so Luke won’t see how Cal is affecting me. I cast my sight on Tucker. His smile drops in disappointment.
“Mom. Please don’t; not today.” He begs.
“Sorry, Bud. We need to register you for school.”
Tucker drops his head and begins to skate to the boards but quickly turns back around and skates towards Cal. He throws his arms around Cal’s waist to hug him and mumbles something. Cal squats down and talks to him for a second. Standing back up, he pats Tucker’s back and sends him to me.
Luke whispers under his breath, “Well, I’ll be damned,” before shaking his head, turning around, and walking to the hallway leading to his office.
Tucker takes off the skates and heads into a storage room, slipping inside. He’s been wearing someone else’s skates for weeks. I never even thought to buy him his own. What kind of a mother am I? He slips out of the room and sits down on the bench to put on his shoes.
“While we’re out today, we can buy you a pair of skates. Okay, Buddy?” I know he is bummed out, so hopefully that will cheer him up.
“Those are my skates.” I frown in confusion, and he continues, “They used to belong to Elija, but he outgrew them, so Ivan told me that I could have them.”
“Oh, that was nice,” I say, as Cal exits the ice.
“Actually,” Cal cuts in. “Those are regular skates; if you want to keep training for hockey, you will need a different pair. Elija joined a little league hockey team this year and retired them. Those are considered figure skates, and they’re easier to balance on. Hockey skates are made for speed and agility. Since you’re getting the hang of things, and your skating technique is good, I don’t think it would be a bad idea to switch.”
I had no idea there was even a difference. I look down at the ones Cal has on. I can’t even tell you what the skates Tucker just took off look like, but now I have an idea of what to buy for him.
Several hours and a ton of paperwork later, Tucker is registered for school. We shop from place to place, gathering school clothes and supplies.
He stops in his tracks and pulls on my arm. “Mom! Can we stop here, please? There’s a chapter book I want.”
I turn around and follow him into the bookstore. The chime rings out above the door, announcing our entrance.
“Hi, welcome in!” A young college-aged guy greets us. “If you need any help, just let me know.”
“Thanks.”
The children’s section has a guest reader, so I leave Tucker to listen to the story with the other children. There are a few books that I’ve been anxious to add to my shelf. Finding the romance section, I skim through, finding four books that I have been dying to read. Strolling back to the children’s section, I round an endcap. Umph. I slam right into a very tall, firm, muscled, brick wall of a man.
“Oh, I’m—”
I look up, and standing there is Callan freaking Miles.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” I stammer.
The way Cal was with Tucker today shifted something in me. I’ve had several hours to reflect on our unique situation and concluded our little spats are just stupid. Not only does this man work for me, but he also takes time out of his solo practice to teach my kid hockey. Maybe it’s time I break the ice—no pun intended.
“Are you creeping on me again? Ooooh, what do we have here?” I joke.
I cast my eyes down at his books to see what he’s into. He tries to hide them behind his back, but I’ve already read part of the title for one of them. His eyes find the smut material in my hands, and he gives me one raised eyebrow. I give him one back as he responds, “It’s nothing.”
“Did that title say self-help for the recovering pretentious asshole?” I ask in jest, chuckling.
His hazel eyes flick from my books up to my eyes. “It’s sad that you read romance novels to live vicariously through your fictional characters. Fuck, it must be a lonely life living in a real world where nobody wants you.”
My head rears back as if he slapped me. Actually, I wish he would have slapped me because at least that sting would go away quicker, where this one will linger. All the blood drains from my face, and my eyelids burn. I deserved that. If he was looking to hit a mark, he just hit the bullseye with that one. I was only kidding around, but given our history, I shouldn’t have said it. Plus, I’m his boss, so what I said was unprofessional and uncalled for.
Sometimes I get carried away and my mouth just pops off. Cal hasn’t said anything to me in weeks, and I go and ruin everything by running my mouth. Why? I turn my head trying to fight off the tears and mask my hurt feelings.
“Asp—” “Cal!” Tucker runs down the aisle, bypassing me. “What are you doing here?” They give fist bumps.
Quickly, I avert my eyes towards the bookshelf and pretend to look for a book, so neither one of them can see the unshed tears burning in my eyes.
“What up, Tuck? I was out and about and thought I would grab a couple of books that would help you. This one is on mental strength for young athletes, and this one is just some hockey stories for kids your age. And this one is for me.”
“Oh cool! Thank you, Cal.”
“Yes,” I mutter, “Thank you, Cal.”
I want to turn my head; to watch their interaction and see the way Tucker’s face lights up, but I don’t. I trace my fingertips along the spine of the books in front of me as I slowly make my way down an aisle, giving them a little time and space to talk. Okay, so that’s total bullshit. My nose is running, and I need to sniff, and if I do, Cal will know that I’m crying, so I’m trying to distance myself. As I move further away from them, I sniff and swipe at my tears.
“Aspen,” Cal pleads. “Can we talk, please?”
“Come on, Tucker, we still need to buy your hockey skates.” I call over my shoulder.
“Aspen, wait.”
I make my way to the register. I can’t let him see me cry. No man will ever see me cry . . . well, except the guy ringing up our books who’s giving me a concerned look. Tucker joins me at the counter, and I throw on my sunglasses and grab our bag of books. Cal is behind me, ready to check out. I don’t want to face him, but I know I need to. With no one else in line behind us and the sunglasses in place, acting as a shield between him and my emotions, it’s a little easier to face him.
“Tucker, I forgot you’re going to need a bookmark for your books; go ahead and pick one out.”
“Yes! Thanks, Mom.”
“Cal,” And fuck it; I’m not a coward, so I take off my glasses and look him in the eyes like an adult. “I’m truly sorry for what I said to you. I was honestly kidding, but with our history, I can see how you wouldn’t take it that way—”
“Asp—” I hold up my hand to stop him.
“Please, let me finish. I was unprofessional, and my comment was uncalled for. You are nothing but good to Tucker, and I’m so grateful for that. I thought I was lightening up the mood when really, I was setting the tone for what you said to me.” With a bookmark in hand, Tucker reaches us. I hand over a ten-dollar bill so he can check out. “Anyway, I hope you can forgive me. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
I put my sunglasses on, place the books in my oversized purse, and put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder to guide him out the door. With my thoughts in the clouds, I’m not paying attention to what’s going on around us. A crowd gathers around Tucker and me. I’m shoved in all directions. Cameras flash. One minute Tucker is standing beside me with confusion mirroring mine, and the next, he’s on the ground crying. I’m in a state of shock. Before I can bend down to pick Tucker up from the ground, he’s lifted into the air, then strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in close and away from the crowd.