Chapter 1
ONE
ADDIE
“He shoots, he scores!” The mischievous voice bounces off the walls.
JJ’s daughter Avery makes a whining sound, and then my sister is hollering from where she stands at the sink.
“Declan Langfield.”
Her four-year-old son barely blinks, and he’s already got his straw lined up to shoot another spit ball, this time at his brother Beckett. Winnie named her boys after the two men in our lives who never let us down, our stepdad, Beckett, and our uncle, Declan.
“Daddy, are you sure we have to stay here?” Avery asks in her sweet high-pitched voice.
JJ strides past me carrying another moving box. My father is right behind him, as is my brother Finn.
Apparently it’s a damn family affair.
With a soft smile, JJ runs his free hand through her silky blond curls. A hand I have absolutely never dreamed about. I swear. Then those blue eyes of his land on me.
My stomach hits my throat, like it always does when he’s around. I glance away. I’m not ready to deal with my ex-best friend or anything he has on his mind.
This is so not how I saw my first day in the NHL going.
Then again, this isn’t how I saw my life going either. By now I should have an apartment in the city like the rest of my friends.
Okay, not all of my friends.
My best friend Savannah just moved out to the burbs with her fiancé, who’s nearly twenty years older than we are.
But my other two best friends, Josie and Sutton, are both living my dream.
Or not exactly. Sutton is dating a Bolt, and I’d never date a hockey player. They’re gross.
I digress. My point is that my dream always included the NHL, but I never would have imagined that at twenty-six, I’d be moving back into my childhood home to help my older sister raise her twin boys. And I never would have believed I’d be living with JJ Hanson.
Okay, that’s also a lie. A long, long time ago, I might have wished that I’d share a home with this man, but those fantasies died a long, slow, murderous, torturous death.
And maybe I’m being a tiny bit dramatic this morning. Then again, who can blame me? I’m moving back into my childhood home with six kids under the age of four and the man who broke my heart.
My dad returns to the kitchen and greets the kids. Then he pauses in front of me and breaks into a smile. “Big day, Little One.” He angles in and presses a kiss to my forehead, a box balanced against his hip. “You ready?”
At five ten, I’m almost as tall as he is, so the nickname doesn’t make much sense to most people.
But Beckett and I didn’t meet until I was two, when he moved into a house a lot like this one with my mother and her friends and their many, many kids.
He struggled keeping our names straight, so he gave us all nicknames.
At least that’s what he let people believe. It’s really because he’s a total softy and that’s just what he does. He gives everyone a nickname. He shows up for us too. I’m incredibly lucky.
Maybe I should do that. Not the showing up part—I do my fair share, even if I’m not soft like he is. The nickname thing might come in handy, though, once my brother’s best friend Hope and her three kids move in as well.
I force a smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Stepping back, he nods. “If anyone gives you trouble—”
“Beckett,” my mother warns.
Head tipped back, I groan. Dad is so overprotective that I swear his picture is printed next to the word in the dictionary. He would do anything for his family—for me—but I’ve spent my life playing hockey with guys. I know how to take care of myself.
“I’m just saying, I still have pull.” He winks at me.
With a roll of her eyes, Mom snatches the straw out of Dec’s hand. “Your cousin should be here any minute.”
The statement is directed at Winnie, because starting today, our cousin Vivi is the kids’ nanny. All six of them.
She’s also moving in with us. I feel for her. At least I’ll leave the house for work every day. Then again, she brought it on herself when she dropped out of college. My uncle was having none of that, so he kicked her out and told her to get a job.
Uncle Gavin, who’s the head coach of the Boston Bolts—my new team—is also normally a total softy like Dad, so this is probably killing him. But I can’t deny that it’s what twenty-one-year-old Vivi needs.
Winnie needs it too. While I’m moving in to support her, my schedule is packed. I’ll be lucky if I can make dinner for the crew one night a week.
It’s the only reason I agreed to this arrangement, honestly.
The team travels to games for almost ten months out of the year, and it doesn’t really matter where my stuff stays when I’m gone.
Being here means that when I am in town, I can at least offer real conversation to my sister, who seriously needs another adult in her life.
“Thank god,” Winnie says as she spins around and straightens her hair. “Do I have food on my shirt?”
Mom and I look her up and down, checking for evidence of the twins’ breakfast on her clothing.
Her light brown hair is pulled back in a tight bun, making her look so much like Mom used to, and she’s in a navy-blue suit.
She’s self-conscious about her curves since having the twins, but they’re incredible in my opinion.
I don’t know how she is so put together at eight a.m. when she’s spent half the morning wrangling two little monsters. I suppose she doesn’t have much of a choice. Winnie is the CEO of the local baseball team. The team my brother plays for. The team the Langfield family owns—the Boston Revs.
Beckett and his brothers have their hands in just about everything in Boston. It’s always been a family affair.
“You look gorgeous,” my mother says to her. “So for real,” she adds, turning to me, “are you ready for today?”
I snort. “Mom, you just got after Dad for asking the same question.”
She shrugs. “But I’m your mother. And he’s unreasonable. I won’t storm into the locker room and tell everyone to be nice to my little girl, but I will check in to make sure you’re doing okay.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. I truly do have the two best parents. My biological dad may have decided fatherhood wasn’t for him, but Beckett more than makes up for his absence.
I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t a Langfield. The first time I really knew my name, that’s the one I gave. I’m not sure when Dad officially adopted me and they changed it legally, but for as long as I remember, I’ve been Langfield.
I was the youngest when my parents got married, but when I was four, my twin sisters were born.
Clearly twins run in the family. June and Maggie are just starting their senior year of college.
So although I keep complaining about all the kids in this house, there were always five of us growing up.
And then when JJ moved in, there were six.
“I think that’s the last of it,” my father says from the other room.
“I really appreciate this,” JJ says, his voice a little quieter.
Ugh. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Dad and Mom get to live by themselves in the Penthouse in Boston. JJ should be thanking me for this privilege. I’m the one stuck sharing a bathroom with him since he took Finn’s old bedroom.
It’s like déjà vu. The last time he lived with us, we shared that same bathroom, though Finn was still home, so the boys shared a room. We were fifteen and I had all sorts of feelings. Feelings I wish I could forget.
This is going to be so weird.
My parents ordered two sets of bunk beds and had them set up in the large playroom at the end of the hall. That’s where JJ’s daughter and Hope’s oldest—Grace, who’s four—will sleep, along with Winnie’s boys.
Hope’s other girls are little and will be staying in her bedroom.
It’s not a perfect scenario, but it’ll work.
With any luck, it’ll be fun for the kids. I grew up in a house full of kids, too, and I have thousands of good memories of that time.
If not for one small detail, I wouldn’t mind the situation at all.
And that small detail just stepped into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. “Do you have to go?” Avery whines.
“Yeah, Avey girl, I do,” JJ says, giving her a soft smile. He catches me staring at the two of them and smirks. “And so do you.”
I tilt my head and focus on the counter in front of me. It’s safer if we don’t make eye contact. Easier. Though that’s about to be nearly impossible, considering my new job. With that reminder, I force myself to meet his gaze.
It’s annoying how beautiful JJ Hanson grew up to be.
Yes, beautiful. He’s got all these pretty lines on his face, a strong jaw, and long black lashes that most women would kill for.
And then there are his eyes. They’re a glacier blue, almost the dusty blue of the ice in Bolts Arena.
The team color that just so happens to be my absolute favorite in the world.
I honestly can’t say whether I love the color because I’ve always dreamed of being a Bolt or because it’s the color of his eyes. I hate how much I’ve thought about this question. Despise it really.
And don’t even get me started on his incredible body.
It’s not just that he’s strong, with broad shoulders and thick thighs.
Those traits are a necessity for all NHL goalies, and he’s damn good at what he does.
Not that I’d ever tell him that. But in my world, muscular guys are a dime a dozen.
What I love about his body is that the man is built like a protector.
Like a dad. That last part is the sexiest thing about him of all.
How sweet he is to his daughter. He turns into complete mush for her.
JJ Hanson is as incredible as a father as Beckett is.
And damn if that isn’t my kryptonite. As much as I despise this attraction to him, I’d never wish those traits away.
I absolutely adore his daughter, and how could I not want him to be a great dad for her?
“I’m leaving shortly,” I reply.
“We’re going to the same place. Might as well ride together,” he says.
I swear every eye in the room is on us, like they’re all waiting for me to explode.
Avery peers up at me, her eyes the same glacier blue as her father’s. “You should remind him he’s not the boss of you.” She gives me one of her signature saucy smiles. “You’re the boss of him.”
The room erupts into laughter, the tension breaking.
Grinning, I pull Avery onto my lap, hugging her tight.
Her mother disappeared recently, so I’ve made even more of an effort to show her love and affection since.
I still don’t know why she left, but that woman has caused more than enough grief for a lifetime.
It serves me well not to think of her. I will, however, always have her little girl’s back.
Even if she happens to be JJ’s daughter.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to remind him repeatedly.” I dart a look at JJ, who is wearing one of his many guarded expressions, his focus on us. “I’m driving.”
His eyes instantly light up like he’s surprised by my response. “Fine by me, Coach.”
That’s the other thing I got wrong when I pictured my future. I’m not the legend in the NHL. I’m just the legend’s coach.