Chapter 2
Two
Rhodes
I hear the music first—and Christ, it must be King’s day to run the speakers considering the boy band anthem that’s blasting through the air, greeting me as I walk down the hall and into the locker room.
Which smells like sweat, tape, and a fruity hint of stick wax.
That’s to say—it smells like hockey.
Noise and chaos and teammates and home.
Shit-giving radiates through the air, competing with the pop song’s chorus, punctuating the beat with bouts of laughter.
But it’s not just the noise, it’s the activity from my teammates too—Huddy stick-handling in the corner of the room, the golf ball he’s training with moving almost faster than my eyes can track, Rome tying his skates, West taping his socks, Cam tugging on his shoulder pads, Wilder parading around in his jock like the goofy rookie he is.
The golf ball flies through the air, beaning Wilder in the ass.
He yelps and turns to glare.
But the rest of us are laughing.
“What can I say?” King smirks as he tugs on his jersey. “Huddy’s got good seriously hands.”
I snort and walk over to my stall, focusing. I don’t have time to fuck around.
I’m late.
But that’s not unusual—or not unusual for me since Anna died.
Trying to balance the crippling pain of losing her with being a good dad for a little girl who’s lost her mom, whose own grief needs to take precedence over mine. Then combining that with a job that makes it difficult to be present and available, even when both parents are alive and well…
Yeah, it’s been a challenge.
Biting back a sigh, I drop onto the bench, start getting undressed.
It’s the preseason.
Which means the energy is high and the nerves are low.
For now.
Soon enough the regular season will be underway, and the pressure will begin to mount, and the playoffs will loom, and—
Shit will get real.
“You see Storm in his first game with the Hawks?” Cam asks.
“Yeah.” West winces. “He looked a little rough.”
I can’t help but agree. “He didn’t look like the player he was from a few seasons ago.”
King nods. “Probably why the Sierra traded him.”
“Yeah,” Huddy says. “I guess.”
“Still, trading away one of your best players?” King shakes his head. “Seems hard to believe.”
“Depends,” Cam says. “Word is he needed a fresh start.”
“I skated with a couple of Hawks guys over the summer,” I say.
Rome’s brows lift in question.
“Storm’s a good player,” I tell them. “Solid skills all around and a hard worker.”
King nods slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. What about the other guys?”
“Ace is an asshole,” I mutter, thinking of the cocky playboy who needs to be knocked down a few pegs. He’s talented but I’d wanted to throttle him more than once.
Cam laughs, and he’s not alone.
“And Shep?” Rome asks, his eyes full of humor.
I snort, thinking of the gaggle of women in the stands who were watching us practice. “Shep gets far too much pussy for his own good.”
More laughter before the topic turns to other things.
“Will my Chloe be watching us today?” King asks as I fold my pants and tuck them away.
“No.” I yank up my jock, pull on my socks. “She’s with the nanny.”
A blip of quiet.
And, Christ, I’ve just scented the water with blood.
Sure enough, it takes all of ten seconds for the first comment to come.
“Is the nanny hot?” Wilder asks.
King smacks him on the back of the head, sighs. “Fucking rookies, man. Show some respect.” But his lips are twitching. “So, is she hot?”
I roll my eyes. “She’s professional and capable, that’s all that matters.”
“That means she’s hot,” Cam stage whispers.
I throw my T-shirt at him, swap it for the team-branded undershirt. It’s moisture-wicking and tight enough that it doesn’t slip around beneath my gear, but I mostly change into it so I don’t have to do any extra laundry.
Needs must, am I right?
And with a daughter who has a budding fashion sense, those laundry needs are great.
I think I have a basket full of clean clothes in every corner of my house at this point.
The guys laugh and I fix them with a glare. “Her name is Finn,” I tell them sternly. “And she’s nice and great with Chloe. So, you fucks be cool about her. I don’t need you to mess this up for me, okay?”
The room goes quiet for a second.
Then Rome asks, “Chloe likes her?”
My mouth turns up. “I’m starting to think she likes Finn more than me.” She was positively bouncing with glee while helping me get the spare bedroom ready for Finn to move in—which really means that she added lots and lots of pink to the space.
“Then the guys will be cool,” our captain says.
I shoot him a look and he shrugs.
“I’ll just make them run extra if they give you too much grief,” he says to the sound of much groaning before he plunks his helmet on and strides from the room.
“Notice how he didn’t say no grief,” King deadpans.
Right on cue, because Cam smirks and asks, “So exactly how hot is this nanny?”
I pull on my socks, my hockey pants. “I think I’m going to text Attie about your sudden interest in my nanny.”
To his credit, he pales.
First smart thing he’s done today—because his FBI agent wife, Athena, can definitely kick his ass.
“You know I’m just fucking with you,” he says.
“I know,” I tell him, shoving my feet into my skates and pulling them tight. “But I also know that Finn is professional and nice and we’re not doing this shit. No locker room talk, no innuendos. No bullshit about the woman who’s making it so I can do my job out there.”
My teammates and friends are quiet for a moment.
Then Huddy nods, says “Fair enough.”
“Yeah.” Cam claps a hand on my shoulder, inclines his head at me. “Sorry, man, you’re right.” Then he strides from the room.
Wilder looks between us all, his eyes wide and full of concern.
I smirk. “It’s fine, Rook. I just need you all to be cool.”
“Exactly.” King turns down the music as the guys finish getting dressed and start trickling out. “Plus, he won’t hurt you during practice.” A nod to the rink. “Not much, anyway.”
Wilder gulps and I bite back a smile.
Rookies.
Seriously.
But he leaves without further words, and thankfully the room is almost empty so no more shit is heaped my way.
And the boundary has been set.
So this should be the end of this shit with the nanny.
Instead, as King starts to walk out, he pauses, leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “So…she’s totally hot, right?”
Christ. Why did I ever think these guys would behave?
Smothering a groan, I rub a hand down my face. “Fuck off, man or I’ll start talking about Rory.”
He laughs. “No, you won’t.” A beat. “Because you’re a nice guy.” His expression goes deadly cold. “And because I’ll kill you before you even get the first word out.” Then he saunters his ass out the door.
I scowl.
He’s not wrong about any of it..
None of them arm.
The problem is that they’re right.
Finn is fucking beautiful.
With striking hazel eyes and deep chestnut hair that seems to fall forward and get in her eyes every five minutes, as though it refuses to be contained, no matter how tight her ponytail is.
She’s always tucking it behind her ears or impatiently scraping her hand across her face, brushing the strands back.
I’ve found myself fighting the urge to do it for her more than once.
And that’s not even mentioning those curves of hers, and maybe the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen—
Aside from Chloe’s that is.
Something I’ve seen more in the last two weeks than I’ve seen in the previous two years.
Ever since Anna died.
So yeah, she’s good for my daughter.
Really good.
Too bad she won’t be around for longer than the season.
Already, the idea of finding someone to replace her seems overwhelming. But when I finally realized Chloe and I couldn’t keep on like we were keeping on with piecemeal babysitters and my friends chipping in to watch her when I was traveling, I didn’t have a lot of time to find someone.
Especially someone as good as Finn.
I got lucky, Chloe’s happy—and that matters more than anything.
“Hey Calder,” Coach Diana Connors (or Coach Dee as we all call her) says as I step onto the ice.
I pause. “Yeah?”
“Is Chloe around?” She hitches her thumb down the hall in the direction of her office. “I bought some new coloring books.”
“No. Not today. She’s with her nanny.”
Those green eyes on mine. “You hired someone?”
“I figured it was beyond time for a more permanent solution.”
“Good.” She nods in agreement. “Chloe happy with the new arrangement?”
“Beyond ecstatic.” I laugh. “I’m old news, and Finn is the latest and greatest.”
“Good,” she says, lips curving, amusement dancing across her face. “But we like having her here too—she’s always welcome.”
A few guys murmur their agreement and my chest goes tight.
Say what you want to say about my teammates, but this is the shit that means I will never stop working my ass off for the Eagles.
We’re family.
Chloe’s been coming around since I was first traded to the Eagles. She knows half the staff by name, and the equipment guys always sneak her candy when they think I’m not looking.
The rink has been her second home.
Which is part of the problem.
Because hockey means travel.
Travel means leaving.
And Chloe has already had more leaving in her life than any kid should.
A whistle trills, and I slap a lid on those thoughts.
“Gather up!” Coach calls.
I join the guys in skating over, and for the next couple of hours, it’s drills and scrimmages, the sharp rhythm of passes and shots and working my ass off. It feels good to sweat, to be out here with my team.
But somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a tug I can’t ignore.
Finn.
Her laughter, her smile…
And my house feeling a little less empty now that she’s in it.