Chapter 16
Sixteen
Rhodes
Buzz. Buzz.
I heard it the moment I came into the locker room between periods, but I tried to ignore it.
Then I hear my phone vibrate again.
Still, I tell myself, I’m not going to check my fucking texts in the middle of a game.
Coach doesn’t have the strictest phone policies—some teams make you lock them up before practices or games, the Eagles don’t do that—but it doesn’t exactly scream focused if I’m texting between periods now, does it?
But…it might be an emergency.
So I pull it out and check my messages anyway.
FINN: Good play.
That’s it.
Two words.
No exclamation point.
No emoji.
Nothing remotely flirty.
And somehow I’m grinning at my phone like a complete dumbass.
Because she saw me score.
“What?” King asks from the stall next from mine. “Finn send you nudes or something?”
I lock the screen and shove the phone back into my bag. “Jesus. No,” I mutter. “She was just letting me know something about Chloe.”
“About Chloe?” he asks dryly.
“Yeah.” I narrow my eyes. “About my daughter. Is that okay, King Bang?”
“Hmm.”
I shouldn’t ask. But I can’t help it. “Hmm what?”
“If it’s about Chloe, why are you smiling like that?”
“I’m not smiling like anything.”
He laughs. “Sure.”
“Let’s move it, yeah?” Coach calls, and I push to my feet, grabbing my helmet. But as I walk down the tunnel and back out to the rink, I am grinning.
Like an idiot.
But Finn texted.
Herself.
Not passing on a message from Chloe.
But one from her.
She’s been so quiet the last couple of days. So reserved.
Not with Chloe.
With me, though, she’s been careful to keep her distance, going to bed early.
No winks or jokes or accidental brushes of our bodies.
No midnight baking.
I’ve been trying to wait her out, trying see if she’ll discuss the phone call Chrissy mentioned had upset her.
But she hasn’t brought it up—and I haven’t found the time to press her for details.
Or maybe the courage to.
She doesn’t owe me an explanation, not so long as she’s properly taking care of Chloe.
But…I want one, anyway.
The whistle trills and I exhale, blinking away thoughts of my confusing feelings about Finn, and focusing on the game.
It’s not an easy one, and even though we have the lead, we can’t just sit back and expect to hold it.
I hop over the boards for my next shift, my skates crunching beneath me, and jump into the play.
It’s moving quickly into our own zone and I’m playing catch up, having to push it to pick up my man. The Rattlers are in deep, moving the puck well, and when the biscuit pops up my way, I sweep out at it, trying to clear it out of the zone.
But their defenseman corrals it, makes a good pass to the far side.
Fucking TJ Conrad.
I grunt, shifting to get in better position, and the second time the puck comes up my side, I manage to take the hit TJ dishes out and get it out of our zone. Rome picks it up, skating hard up the middle, and I curse at the next blow to my back, pushing the fucker off and trailing my teammates.
Rome carries it into the zone, dishes the pass off to King, and—
The crowd roars in protest at the slash from Lex Ambrose.
The ref’s arm goes up, but King doesn’t lose the puck—though he goes down on one knee. A second later, he’s dished a pass back to me and I carry the puck deep into the zone, giving Cam time to join in on the play as the sixth attacker.
We pass as the Rattlers chase, working the puck deep and around, patient as we try to find an opening.
Despite already taking a penalty, Ambrose seems determined to double down, the young fuck not nearly as skilled as his brother who plays for the Hawks and about five times as dirty.
I grunt at his slash across my hands but manage to feed the puck back over to King.
He dishes to Huddy on the point and I cut in, trying to create some traffic in front.
It works.
TJ follows me and gives Huddy some time to skate closer, to wind up for a shot and…
To pass it off to King.
Who’s snuck to the back door and even though the puck doesn’t come cleanly through to him, it still comes through.
He gets it on his stick, flicks it up…
And over the goalie’s pads.
It sails into the back of the net and the red light turns on and—
The crowd goes wild.
And I grin.
Because I know, just know that Finn is watching.
By the time we make it back to the room after the win, I’m sweaty and wound up and far too aware that the first thing I want to do is look at my phone.
So obviously I don’t.
Because that would be bordering on pathetic.
And King would probably give me shit about looking at nudes again.
So instead, I shower, get dressed, and take my time getting my bag together until the room empties out.
Then I look at my phone again.
And the acute disappointment I feel when there’s not another text steals nearly all the breath from my lungs.
I stare at the thread like it’s personally offended me.
Does Finn not think I played well during the rest of the game?
And Christ, am I really so pathetic that I want her to slap me on the back and pay me dumb compliments for me doing my fucking job?
I roll my eyes, toss my phone aside.
Then pick it back up again.
RHODES: Thanks. Is Chloe asleep?
I stare at it for a second, the urge to delete every letter so strong, I nearly do exactly that.
But for some idiotic reason, I hit send.
Her reply comes before I’ve even slung my bag over my shoulder.
FINN: Barely. She was very concerned that your team needed more snacks to be better at hockey.
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
RHODES: She’s not wrong. We barely squeaked the game out.
There’s a pause. Then—
Buzz. Buzz.
FINN: I suggested orange slices during intermission. But that probably isn’t standard.
I grin.
RHODES: Depends on the team. I’d never turn down an orange slice, but my favorite is a pouch of applesauce.
FINN: Really?
RHODES: Told you that you weren’t wrong to compare us to little kids.
She sends a laughing emoji and I stand in the empty locker room smiling at my phone/
Again.
And waiting for her to send something else.
Also again.
But nothing comes.
RHODES: You still up?
The three little dots appear.
Disappear.
Then come back.
FINN: Yup. Just was getting Chloe transferred from couch to bed without waking the kittens.
RHODES: That sounds impossible.
FINN: I’ll steal your line—I have many skills.
I laugh.
And there’s another pause. This one longer.
FINN: Drive safe.
I exhale, not sure if that’s concern or dismissal, but wanting it to be concern with an intensity that grips my insides tightly in its talons.
For someone—for Finn—to want me to come home safely.
RHODES: Always.
Then I do what she requested.
I drive home safely, park in the garage, unlock the door to the inside.
The house is quiet and dark aside from the lights Finn left on for me.
I walk through the kitchen, start for the stairs.
Then stop when something on the island catches my attention.
It’s a plate covered with foil, a sticky note—pink of course—decorated with Chloe’s messy scribbles.
But I can make out the letters and my throat goes tight.
FOR MY DADDY
I lift the foil and find two misshapen cookies inside.
And another note, this one in Finn’s handwriting.
She insisted. Don’t ask how many chocolate chips didn’t make it into the dough. :)
-F
My mouth curves as I look up at the ceiling.
Everything is quiet and still, and I know they’re all asleep.
Even the kittens.
I should do the same, should get to bed so I can drive Chloe to school in the morning.
Instead, I stand there with that note in my hand, absently rubbing my other over the growing ache in my chest.
And when I finally make my feet carry me upstairs, I know one thing with complete certainty—
I’m in way more trouble than I thought.