4. Chase
Chase
I have my pants up over my hips and I’m tugging a shirt over my head when it dawns on me what I just did.
“ Fuck. I left my baby sister downstairs with a fucking stranger.”
Yanking the shirt down off my face, I sprint from my room. I have to grip the side of my jeans to keep them from falling off. I don’t have time to button and zip. I need to get to Candace.
There’s no noise filtering up the stairs. No baby gurgles or whispered words or squeak of baby toys. And every worst-case scenario from Candace being dead on the floor to she’s not even in the house flashes through my head as I beeline for the lower floor.
I’m not even sure my feet touch the steps as I take them two and three at a time.
The front door is closed, the foyer empty. The living room shows no sign of life—or death. And my heart is lodged in my throat, the thing beating a million miles a minute as I tear through the house in search of my sister, and the woman I handed her to.
My chest and gut clench painfully.
Who knows who I fucking handed Candace to! It could have been a serial killer for all I know.
I’m panting for breath when I fly into the kitchen. My gaze lands on the empty bottle warmer before it ping-pongs around the rest of the room until it lands on the back of a head of dark brown hair.
“Fuck!” Bending in half, I press my hands to my knees and suck in gulps of air. “Holy fucking shit.”
Instead of the shout I started with, the last three words are no more than a whisper. The chaotic emotions bouncing around inside me have zapped every single molecule of air from my lungs and constricted my airways so tightly I’m surprised I can get anything through them.
The last minute—that felt like a fucking hour—has to have taken a decade off my life. Fuck. At the rate my heart is beating I might be having a heart attack.
“Fuck me,” I mutter when the constriction of my chest eases enough I manage to pull in a full breath.
It takes everything I have to straighten, to raise my gaze to the sight that delivered so much relief I almost hit the floor.
When I do, the woman I let into the house not ten minutes ago is standing on the other side of the couch looking at me with concern.
And now that I’m looking at her, really looking at her, I can’t believe I thought?—
“You’re not the babysitter from the agency are you.” It’s not a question. It’s obvious whoever this woman is, she isn’t the twenty-four-year-old nanny I was expecting.
This woman looks older than that and definitely not dressed to take care of a baby with her straight knee-length skirt and white blouse.
“No. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before.”
She cradles Candace against her chest so naturally a pang of regret twinges in my chest. I was never that at ease with my sister the first few times I held her.
Shit. I’ve been holding her for months and I’m barely at ease with her now.
The woman moves around the couch in my direction, and I’m rooted to the spot as I watch her come. I can’t pinpoint the emotions flooding me.
Relief, gratitude… excitement?
What that last one is about I can’t say. But I can’t deny the buzz of elation filling my veins.
When she’s closer she holds out her hand. “I’m Natalie Redding.”
The name rings a bell, but my heart is still beating like a rock band drummer on speed and I can’t pull my thoughts together enough to figure out the reason she’s familiar.
I stretch out my hand to meet hers. “Chase Hawkins.”
She smiles at me as we let go. “Yes. I know.” She pats my sister’s back. “And this is Candace.”
“I...” I snap my mouth closed. I don’t know if I should be worried she knows us or not. “Yes, that’s my sister, Candace.”
Obviously, she isn’t here to hurt either one of us because she’s had Candace alone for long enough to have done whatever she fucking pleased. If she’s another reporter here to?—
My phone beeps, reminding me I’m supposed to be on a call. “Shiii…ooot!”
Fuck . I really need to curtail my swearing. Should probably curb it in my head too.
“You need to get on a call,” she says, and I open my mouth to argue, but before I can she adds, “Why don’t I keep Candace occupied downstairs where you can see us?”
Candace is already looking sleepy and if I’ve learned one thing over the last few months it’s letting her sleep too much during the day means no sleep at night. For anyone.
“Can you keep her awake until I’m off the call? She’s a night owl and we’re trying to correct that by keeping her up more during the day.”
“Sure. Are there toys to play with down there or should I grab some of these?”
She’s already moving toward the pile of toys I haven’t packed up from this morning. “Leave those. I have a basket of things downstairs in the office.” Too many things, but that’s another story.
“Okay. Lead the way.”
Turning, my gaze lands on the fridge and the manners Mom and Dad instilled in me snap into place.
Facing her again, I ask, “Do you want a drink? I have cold water and juice in the fridge, or I can make coffee or tea.”
“I’m good. And you need to make that call.”
“I do, but they’re okay if I’m a few minutes late. It’s not the first time this one has kept me from being on time or made me miss one altogether.” It’s why I organized a sitter. Shit! My gaze meets Natalie’s. “I was expecting a babysitter.”
“I figured. If she arrives while you’re on the call, I can come up and answer the door.” She must see the panic in my eyes because she quickly adds, “I’ll leave Candace with you if I do.”
A breath of relief rushes out of me, and I’m amazed I’m still standing at this rate. My lungs and heart haven’t had a workout this strenuous in months. Not since Dad?—
Nope. Not going there right now.
It’s hard enough living in this house, taking care of my sisters, taking his place in the business, without thinking about the senseless loss of Dad.
Not that Mom’s loss makes any more sense.
“Chase?” My eyes focus on Natalie again. “Are you okay?”
Shaking off my depressing thoughts, I offer up a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”
“I can imagine.” Her gaze dips to Candace. “Let’s get downstairs. She’s getting heavier and I think I might need something other than myself to keep her from falling asleep in the next few minutes.”
“Right. Of course. Let’s go.” I turn and lead the way.
“And maybe you could, um, tidy up before you get on screen. If it’s a video call.”
Her words stop me in my tracks. With a frown, I glance over my shoulder at her. “Huh?”
She’s smiling at me. And it’s not one of pity either. I’ve had enough of those sent my way in the last three months.
No doubt she knows our story, at this point it feels like the whole world knows it, although I’m sure it’s only those closest to the family, the local community. It’s not like I’ve ventured far from home since everything went ass over tit.
My priority has been keeping the girls in a routine, keeping things as normal as possible, which when I think about it is total bullshit because how the fuck can anything be normal ever again?
“Your pants are still undone, and your shirt is on backwards.”
“What?” Looking down at myself, I see my left hand still clenching denim at my waist and a huge print of my parents’ company’s logo on my chest, not the discreet one I expect to find over my left pec. “Fuc—udge! I mean fudge!”
A light laugh comes from behind me, and it’s quickly followed by the gurgle that passes for laughter from Candace. Both sounds send a wave of warmth through me.
With a sheepish grin, I turn to face Natalie and nod to the door that opens onto the basement stairs. “Head on down, you’ll see where I’ve got Candace’s things set up. I’ll get fixed up and be down in a second.”
“Do you need me to give her anything else to eat?”
“No. We aren’t at the solid food stage yet.” Thank fuck .
I know I’m going to have to look into that soon. She’s waking more and more hangry between bottles, but I just haven’t had the bandwidth to deal with one more thing.
There are a few other things more important right now. And a few things I plan to take off my plate after this meeting.
The thought of the meeting has me spinning around and racing upstairs again. And if I pass the front door and check it’s locked and arm the alarm, no one would blame me.
I’m a twenty-year-old solely responsible for three underage girls.
And my gut might be telling me the woman in my house is safe, trustworthy, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Although in my previous life my gut never let me down. Never steered me in the wrong direction when it came to where the puck would go?—
I stamp on those thoughts as pain lances my chest.
That life is over.
Never to be revisited.
And the sooner I accept that and move on the better.
The girls need me to be the best parent figure I can be. I might be clueless most of the time, but I had two really good role models for the first twenty years of my life. I have to believe their guidance has imbedded itself in my subconscious over the years.
If I can draw on even a tenth of what they showed me, I’ll be thrilled. The other nine tenths are what books and the internet are for.
Plus, there’s Candace’s doctor. She’s been a world of help since Dad died.
Dammit. Shaking my head, I clear all thoughts of Dad’s death from my mind.
Easier said than done when I’m expected to be his replacement in the business. It might have taken me months, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not cut out to be a parent and work. At least not right now.
Maybe when I get the hang of this parenting thing, I can look at taking a more active role in the company. For now, I’m going to leave the running of the stores to the managers and appoint Kent Quinn manager of the managers.
Kent will be my point person. And I’ll leave it to him to hire his replacement, because honestly, I know very little about the business my family owns, and Kent’s been with us from the beginning.
Dad never included me in any meetings or store visits. He knew my dream was to play in the NHL and only join him in the business after I retired from the ice.
But that was when he thought he’d live until both of us reached retirement age.
I could sell the business. Invest the money in other things to earn an income to support me and the girls, but the sporting and outdoor equipment stores aren’t just mine. And I refuse to sell anything—the house or the business—before the girls are old enough to make a decision.
Candace is too young, and Cass, Stell, and I will make the decision for her, but the twins are old enough to remember our parents, our life before, and I refuse to take any more away from them.
Whether I want to work in one of our stores or not, I’ll keep hold of the legacy our parents left us.
I glance around my childhood bedroom. The one I’ve only lived in part-time for the last few years.
Mom kept everything as I left it. The wall of old hockey sticks. The hockey print bedding. The shelf of pucks—one from every shut-out game I had during my years in college—is the only new addition.
Otherwise, the room looks exactly like it did when I lived here.
Never thought I’d be back in this room permanently.
Not like this.
As much as it hurts to be here, it also comforts.
Being surrounded by their things, walking through the rooms they spent so much time in, brings solace I know we all need right now.
Especially the girls.
I have no idea how I’m going to guide my sisters through their teenage years. Mine were hockey, hockey, hockey. Early days, late nights, game weekends. The girls aren’t into any sport or activity beyond what’s required of them in school.
My phone beeps again reminding me of the call I should be on and I run my fingers through my hair, try to tame the tangled mass. It needs a cut.
One more thing I don’t have time for right now.
That changes in the next hour.
Smoothing a hand down my now righted shirt, I tug the material to remove any wrinkles as I walk toward the stairs.
Time to be the only legal-aged owner of a multi-million-dollar company.