Chapter 3
Three
Finn
“Pancakes today or waffles, Ms. Chloe?”
Chloe sits at the counter, her little legs swinging, and smiles up at me. It’s been a whirlwind of a month since that first meeting on the porch.
Ms. Chloe and I hit it off.
Rhodes was…Rhodes.
And now I’ve given up the room I was renting, packed my things, and moved into one of the spare bedrooms that Chloe helped decorate for me…that’s to say, it’s very pink.
Very pink.
But it’s the sweetest welcome I’ve ever been given.
Because she’s sweet—and comes by it naturally.
Her dad is too.
Rhodes has been really busy with the team and I’ve been doing my best to give the pair space when he is home, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen how lovely he is with his daughter.
And it’s clear he’s been here, been involved her whole life.
He knows Chloe’s favorite things, knows her friends’ and teachers’ names, knows what shows she wants to watch and her favorite book and her favorite stuffed animal.
I’ve been nannying for years and let’s just say…
That’s sadly not the norm.
“Pancakes!”
I grin at her (it’s been pancakes every day for weeks now). “What shape should I attempt today?”
I’d made them to resemble a certain fictional mouse a few days ago and now her requests for pancake shapes have only grown—yesterday it was a turtle, today it’s—
“A heart!”
Okay, well that I can do.
I mix up the batter, attempt a couple of hearts, then relinquish the cup I’ve been using to let her try her hand at making her own shapes.
It’s a mess—because she’s four, not because she’s trying to make a mess.
Her brow is furrowed as she concentrates, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she attempts a heart.
“That’s a good one,” I encourage.
She studies it closely then lifts the cup again. “I just need to practice.” A shrug of one little shoulder. “That’s what Coach Dee says, anyway.”
“That’s good advice.”
I’ve heard all about Coach Dee, and I have to say, I’m in more than a little awe.
We watched part of the Eagles preseason game last night and I spent more time watching her on the bench than absorbing the actual game.
She’s inspiring—I love seeing women step into traditionally male roles and kicking ass along the way—and Chloe adores her.
As far as I’m concerned, Dee and I are friends now.
A thought I should probably keep to myself, considering I haven’t actually met her in person yet.
Well, I say po-tay-to, you say po-stalk-er.
Grinning, I dish up the pancakes, we eat, and then I’m driving Chloe to school.
Rhodes left earlier this morning for a meeting with his agent and then he has a full day of preparations for the season—a workout with the Eagles’ strength coach followed by practice with the team—so it’ll be just Chloe and me for the most part.
It’s been Chloe and me a lot.
Not that I mind. She’s a great kid and it’s been nice to settle into a routine—school drop-off and pickup, popping home for a snack, then hanging here for craft time or walking to the park nearby to get her wiggles out.
After it’s an early dinner, a long bath (with an emphasis on long), selecting the perfect pair of jammies, and then lying in bed reading book after book (usually we hit the same one at least three times), and then, finally, it’s bedtime.
Though, if the Eagles are on TV like they were last night, I’ve been sneaking in a period with Chloe so she can wish her dad goodnight before she heads off to Dreamland.
Maybe I should mention that to Rhodes—he and Chloe can come up with a signal for him to give her so she knows he’s thinking about her.
He’d totally do it.
Smiling, I park and walk back inside, automatically going to the laundry room to start in on some of Chloe’s clothes.
The job description doesn’t technically require me to do housework, and Rhodes has a housekeeper who comes in and does the bulk of the cleaning.
But Chloe’s at school and I’m home and not busy, so I don’t mind rescuing him from Laundry Hell.
Same as I don’t mind washing her favorite cup or making sure his secret stash of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in the freezer say hidden.
And anyway, her school day’s not long.
I barely have time to fold her clothes and finish up some items for the craft fair I have a booth at in a couple of weeks before I’m heading out the door again.
But it feels normal to be bustling around, nice to be busy zipping around places.
Today is no different.
We have our snack, walk to the park and do “so many” slides. Then we come home, start dinner, and sit down at the table to work on her blanket. She’s selecting the squares and I’m pinning them together when—
The world goes funny.
The table starts vibrating, scattering pins this way and that. The plates and glasses begin rattling in the cabinets. And the floor rolls, ever so slightly.
Chloe’s eyes go wide. “What was that?” she whispers.
“Just a little earthquake,” I say calmly, even though my heart gives a little blip as I wait to see if the shaking is going to slow down…or ramp up.
Living in California means earthquakes happen. Most are so small you barely notice them. This is a bit bigger, but it’s over almost as soon as I realize it’s happening.
Still, Chloe slides off her chair and climbs into my lap, hugging me tight. “Is the house going to fall down?”
“No, baby. It’s already over.” I cuddle her close. “And the house was built to withstand big, big earthquakes. This was just a little one. We’re absolutely fine.”
“Okay,” she whispers, but she doesn’t move for a few seconds.
And neither do I.
But when everything remains still and quiet, I tuck her hair back. “Should we keep working on our blanket or go on with making dinner?”
Her head cocks to the side, considering that. “Blanket.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” I tell her with a smile. “Because I found this fabric in my stash today.” I dig through the bin, pull it out. “What do you think?”
It’s pink rainbow metallic and…
Oh yeah, she loves it.
Rhodes’s call comes as she’s contemplating the best spot to place it.
“Finn?” he asks, worry stretching his voice taut.
“Hey.”
“Are you guys okay?”
“We’re fine,” I tell him, eyes going to Chloe. “Just a little shake.”
He exhales loudly.
I picture him wherever he is—probably at the rink—shoving a hand through his hair while he paces the halls.
“Chloe’s fine?” he asks, still tense.
“Yeah,” I say. “Do you want to talk to her? She’s right here.”
“Please,” he rasps, and my heart aches, but I just hold the phone out. “Sweetheart, your dad is on the phone.”
Chloe grabs it eagerly. “Daddy!”
The next five minutes are a rapid-fire report about the earthquake, the blanket squares, and what we’re going to cook for dinner..
By the time she hands the phone back, Rhodes sounds calmer.
“Thanks for that,” he says. “It was…” A breath. “Much worse over here—a lot of buildings took damage and some of the roads are closed.”
My heart spasms. “I didn’t realize. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It just might take me a while to get home.”
“Okay, no problem,” I say. “We’ll be here.”
“Call me if anything else happens.”
“Of course.”
We hang up.
Chloe climbs back onto her chair and studies the blanket pieces again. “Do you think kittens get scared during earthquakes?”
I blink. “Kittens?”
“At Chrissy’s rescue.”
Ah.
The cat rescue run by the daughter of the Eagles’ owner, Christina Dawson, née Dubois (she’s now married to the captain of the Eagles, Rome).
Chloe has been obsessed with it ever since we drove by the building last week and I mentioned I volunteer there sometimes.
“I’m sure they’re okay,” I tell her.
“Maybe we should go check in on them.”
“They have volunteers already doing that,” I hedge (with Rhodes as worried as he was when I spoke to him there’s no way I’m taking Chloe out of this house). “But maybe we can visit them sometime soon.”
Her eyes light up at that. “Did you know Chrissy has kittens?”
My lips twitch. “I did.” And they’re freaking adorable.
“I want one.”
“I bet.”
Her gaze comes to mine. “Maybe Daddy will say yes.”
I don’t point out that professional hockey players who travel constantly might not be ideal kitten parents. Instead, I let her dream a little and just say, “Maybe.”
She sighs and goes back to the blanket.
“Jake fell off the climbing wall,” she announces several minutes later.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, pinning the next square she’s chosen in place. “Is he okay?”
A shrug. “He cried.”
I weigh that, unsure how to reply.
Then I just…go with my instincts. “It’s okay to cry,” I tell her gently.
“Ms. Mika says we should use our words when we’re sad.”
“That’s good advice,” I tell her. “But crying sometimes is okay too.”
She nods thoughtfully, lips pursed as though weighing my words. “I’ll tell Jake.”
I bite back a smile and we’re wrapping up our time with her blanket and turning our attention to dinner—it’s a simple pasta dish with chicken and vegetables (broccoli, since Chloe will eat it, carrots and peppers and onions because I like variety and Rhodes seems to as well).
I’m just cutting Chloe’s chicken for her when the garage door rumbles up and Rhodes steps through the door.
Chloe lights up immediately. “Daddy!” She scrambles down from her stool and rushes over to him.
“Chloe girl,” he says, sweeping her up and holding her tight.
I pretend to focus on the food.
But it’s impossible not to listen to them talk, impossible to miss his relief that she’s okay and the earthquake was just a minor one out here.
Quietly, I place Chloe’s dish on the table, serve up some food for Rhodes.
He looks up as I’m setting a fork and napkin down beside his plate. “You didn’t have to—”
“I’m happy to,” I say quietly.
“Are you going to eat with us?” he asks as Chloe wiggles and he sets her down.
I shake my head. “I have a couple things to catch up on.”
But the truth is that I think he needs this moment with his daughter—not just because of the scare with the quake, not even because he’s gone so often…but because it was the two of them before I was around.
And I know they need this time.
So I take my plate up to my room, pull out my laptop, and dive into the news of the earthquake.
A big one, and he’s not wrong—there was a lot of damage.
But that’s not why I feel unsettled.
It’s the sound of Chloe’s sweet voice echoing down the hall and into my bedroom that makes me ache.
“You cannot be jealous of a four-year-old who lost her mom, Finley,” I mutter, diving into my food.
Except, there’s a small part of me that is.
Rhodes is…well, he’s good. He’s engaged and patient as she tells him about her day. He listens to every word. He asks questions. He laughs when she says something funny instead of talking down to her.
He loves her.
And my heart…it aches.
Because I’ve never had that kind of love.
And my parents—
“Enough,” I whisper, closing my laptop and taking my plate down to the kitchen.
Chloe and Rhodes are just finishing the cleanup, and he snags my dish before I can take care of washing it.
“I can—”
“You cooked.” A smile that cuts off my protest. “And thanks for that. It was really good.”
“It was a-licious,” Chloe says, making me grin.
Rhodes’s amused eyes hold mine and my pulse skitters—but it’s only for a heartbeat. Then he’s washing the plate, loading it into the dishwasher. “Bath time, pumpkin,” he announces as he dries his hands.
“Bath time!” she yells, running down the hall.
I chuckle, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I wish I had her energy.”
“We all do.” He lifts a hand and I freeze as his fingers brush oh so lightly over my cheek, my heart pounding hard against my ribs, my lips parting on a shaky exhale. “You have—” He pulls back, shows me a thread that must have come loose from Chloe’s blanket.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Thanks.”
One big shoulder lifts and drops. “I should be thanking you.” His eyes are warm and serious. “I appreciate all you’re doing for Chloe and me.”
Now I shrug. “It’s nothing.”
“Not to me,” he says solemnly. “Not to Chloe.”
I open my mouth to reply—to say what, I have no idea—but right on cue, Chloe’s sprinting back into the room. “It’s bath time!” she shouts, taking her dad’s hand and all but dragging him from the room. He laughs and scoops her up, tossing her over her shoulder. “Say goodnight to Finn first.”
“Night, Finn!” she shouts.
“Night, Chloe baloney.”
She giggles.
Rhodes grins, his deep brown gaze coming to mine. “Goodnight, Finn,” he murmurs.
“Night,” I say softly.
And then they’re gone, their voices fading.
And for some strange reason, standing there alone in the kitchen…
I wish I could go with them.