Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Al
After practice, Coach Turner calls me into his office. With lightning speed, I shower and change into a pair of athletic shorts and a quick-dry shirt with the team logo before knocking.
“What can I do for you, Coach?”
“Sit down and close the door,” he says, looking up from his computer with a frown.
As I take a seat, I fold my hands in my lap, my thumb running over the ring on my finger. The second I was out of the shower, I put it back on. I feel naked when I’m not wearing it.
“You’ve had a lot of changes lately. How are you holding up?”
My announcement—both of them—must have reached his ears. I’m certainly not trying to hide either Riley or Emmy.
“I’m fine.”
“Not distracted?” He studies me.
“I’m on a points streak, the second longest in my career.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m good, Coach.”
He picks up his tablet, tapping on the screen, before he hands it to me.
“There’s a Grizzlies Foundation gala next week. You need to bring your wife.”
“Right.” I glance at the photo on the screen. It’s me and Riley on the park bench, my arm around her as she holds Emmy. We look… like a family. Like we belong together.
After our walk in the park, we went to a nearby bistro.
It’s one of only a handful of meals Riley and I have shared.
Emmy fell asleep in her stroller, so we didn’t have to rush home, and our quick meal turned into a leisurely two-hour conversation.
I can’t deny it felt nice to sit in public with my wife like all the other guys do, chatting and relaxing.
Coach scowls at me. “I don’t care if this is a business deal or if it’s the real thing. There will be fans at this event, and they’re paying a thousand dollars a plate to see you. It’s got to look real.”
“Got it.”
We were already planning on her bringing Emmy for her first game… I guess now we’ve got a doubleheader. Two public appearances in one weekend.
Passing the tablet back to him, I lift my chin and meet his eyes. “Anything else?”
“Dismissed.”
I head back to the players’ lounge, where most of the guys are hanging out. Stomach growling, I grab a plate from the stack and fill it from the chafing dishes laid out, then settle at a table with Mitchell, Jenkins, and Logan.
“Where’s your shadow?” I ask Logan, and he scowls.
“MacGregor’s getting treatment with Amelia.”
They’re usually attached at the hip. During practice, they’re on separate squads, but they sit side by side on every bus and plane ride, and they spend all their time together.
I chuckle. “But you knew who I was talking about.”
“Fuck off,” he says, rolling his eyes to take the heat out of the words.
“Are you and Hailey finally going to tie the knot?”
He’s been dating MacGregor’s sister since last winter. They’re disgusting together.
Logan cocks his head. “You seem oddly invested in my life today.”
“Nah. Just wondering when you’re going to join the ranks of the married men. The grass is greener, my friend.”
Mitchell laughs. “You fucked your wife yet?”
It’s my turn to scowl. “Fuck off.”
“You might be married on paper, but it’s not a real marriage,” he says.
“You ever been married?” Jenkins asks him.
“Nope. Came close, but we called it off.” He shrugs. “It’s for the best. She hooked up with my teammate, and I can’t be sure the timelines didn’t overlap. Last I heard, they have three or four kids and split up six months after he retired.”
“They split up? With little kids?” I can’t imagine that. Sure, it’s better to be alone than be miserable in a relationship, but I can’t imagine only being with my kid part-time. I already get so few moments with her as it is.
“She wanted to be a WAG. She didn’t care which guy she had to screw to get a ring.” Mitchell scowls. “Watch out for your girl. She might not want to be a WAG now, but they all want that lifestyle, and they’ll do anything to keep it.”
“Riley’s not like that.”
He grunts. “If you say so.”
“She’s not,” I say firmly.
“Hailey’s not interested in being a WAG, either,” Logan says.
“That’s because she’s family,” Jenkins says. “She’s basically been one all this time.”
He’s a few years younger than me, and in the year and a few months I’ve been with the team, he’s gone through four or five girlfriends. They’re all the same: tall, blond, super thin, and gorgeous. He clearly has a type, and I’m not about to judge him for it.
Blondes have never done it for me, which is funny, because Carter was blond. I found her social media profile the other day, and although I still don’t remember her, a part of me was settled by seeing her face.
She will always be the mother of my child. No matter my residual anger, she’s dead, and I can’t change that. As sorry as I am for her passing, if she hadn’t, I never would have known about Emmy.
Logan kicks me under the table. “You okay, man?”
I nod, turning my attention back to my plate. “I’m fine.”
The house is loud with the chaos of twenty-five hockey players, a dozen partners, and five babies.
Riley looks alarmed as Jenkins shows up on our doorstep with a case of beer in one hand and a giant shopping bag in the other.
“What is all this?” she asks.
“This is your baby-slash-wedding shower,” he cheers.
She glares at me. “When you said you invited a few people, I thought you meant, like, four. Maybe five. Not… this.”
“Relax. I’ve got it handled.” I set my arm around her shoulders and steer her into the living room. “Grab a drink, hang out. They want to get to know you.”
Spoiler alert: I do not have this handled. We’re only forty-five minutes into the party and I’m already crawling out of my skin. Generally, I’m energized being around people, but cramming everyone in my small house was not my best idea.
Luckily, I set up a few folding tables and chairs outside, and even though it’s cold as fuck, half the team congregates there. I throw Jenkins’s beer into a cooler. Sinclair, Clark, and Schwartz all had the same idea. We have an early game tomorrow, so we can’t go too crazy.
Inside, Emmy is being passed around like a hot potato, charming everyone who holds her. She’s loving the attention, clapping and babbling and showing off her gummy smile with two little teeth.
She’s been grumpy as fuck the last few nights, inconsolable, screaming her head off all night long, but as soon as the tooth poked through, she calmed down.
I don’t like when my princess is upset, and I definitely don’t like not being able to soothe her.
All she wanted was Riley, and it was a kick in the nuts that I wasn’t enough for her.
The doorbell rings again, and I open it to find a woman I don’t recognize.
She’s not accompanied by any of my teammates, and I stare at her, trying to figure out who she is and why she’s here.
She’s carrying a canvas grocery tote with wine bottles sticking out the top.
Did someone order more alcohol? The metric fuck-ton we already have should be enough.
“Can I help you?” I finally ask.
“I’m here for the baby shower,” she says. Her wavy red hair glints in the late-afternoon sunlight. Dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, she’s not glammed up like some of the WAGs are. She seems down-to-earth. Normal. But what’s she doing here? “Vanessa invited me.”
“Right…”
“I promise I’m not a stranger,” she says. “I’m Bex Whitney. My brother Wyatt plays for Austin. Van brought me to meet Riley a few weeks ago.”
I’ve played against Whitney over the years, and her having Vanessa’s seal of approval is enough to assure me she’s not a puck bunny trying to manipulate access to my teammates.
“In that case, come on in.”
She passes by me, and to my surprise, Riley hugs her. Good. She could use some friends.
Taking a lap of the party, I check on everyone. The guys are enjoying the onesie decorating station, and although a few designs are definitely inappropriate for a seven-month-old baby to wear, I’m touched they’re putting an effort in.
Inside, Emmy starts to fuss, and I scoop her out of Lewis’s wife’s arms. Rachel is nice enough, but I don’t know her well. She’s wicked smart, a nuclear physicist. That doesn’t mean she can take care of my girl.
“My turn,” I announce. “We’ll be right back.”
Sneaking upstairs, I change Emmy’s diaper, but she’s still cranky, so I sit in the glider and hold her close.
“Are you done with all the people in your house?” I murmur, running my finger over her downy-soft cheek. She turns her head, drawing my finger into her mouth, and then she chomps down on it. “Fuck.”
“What did we say about saying fuck around the baby?” Riley stands in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, looking equal parts amused and peeved.
“She bit me!”
“Your fault for putting your finger in her mouth.” She laughs. “She’s still fussy?”
“Her mouth probably hurts. I know my finger does.”
She smirks. “Bet you won’t do that again.”
The pinprick of her razor-sharp tooth presses into my skin again, and I wince. “If it makes her feel better…”
Riley rolls her eyes, picking up a teething toy. Warmth shoots up my arm as her hand covers mine and slowly pulls my finger out of Emmy’s mouth. My angry little tooth-growing princess throws her head back, ready to scream, before Riley slips the toy into her mouth.
Emmy lets out a grunt, her teeth gnashing into the toy.
“I’m in awe,” I confess as Riley lifts her into her arms.
“Had a lot of practice the last few weeks. You done hiding up here?”
“Whose idea was this?” I ask rhetorically.
Her bright blue eyes narrow into slits, and a chill runs down my spine. Happy wife, happy life, I remind myself.
“Right. Mine. Sorry.”
“You know, if you’d told me about this, we could have gone somewhere else to host a party. Somewhere that isn’t our house, so we’d have somewhere to escape to,” she says. “Why’d they bring so much stuff?”
“Because they’re idiots with more money than brains.
” I force myself out of the glider, otherwise I’ll be in it all night.
That thing is comfortable. “Anything we don’t want or need, we’ll donate.
The only rule I gave them was no Grizzlies merch.
The team already gave me everything she’ll ever need. ”
She rolls her eyes, before turning to go down the stairs. “Should I expect a baby hockey toy, then?”
“Oh, like, four of them. And about a thousand stuffed animals.”
Her laugh echoes through the stairwell, announcing our return, and our guests turn to look at us. Riley skids to a stop, and I nearly run into her. My hand falls to her waist, steadying myself. The heat of her skin radiates through her simple T-shirt, and my palm itches to touch her bare skin.
That’s a weird thought to have about my wife.
I’ve been doing a decent job of tamping down my attraction to her, but I’m terrified one of these days I’ll say the wrong thing and make her uncomfortable.
Our marriage works because it’s a business arrangement, purely platonic; the last thing I want is for her to think I’m pressuring her into taking it to another level.
I’m fine with things the way they are. I’m happy.
Mostly.
“What’s up?” I whisper, as my gut coils with tension.
She shakes her head, walking down the last two steps.
After a few moments, chatter resumes as everyone goes back to ignoring us.
Riley strides through the party to the kitchen, and I do my best to keep with her rapid pace.
Maybe I should have asked my wife if inviting everyone over was a good idea.
I wanted to make her feel like part of the team, like she’s one of us now.
They’re my family as much as my siblings are.
Riley attempts to make a bottle one-handed.
Without asking, I scoop Emmy into my arms, and my wife gives me a whisper of a smile.
Maybe she’s not as pissed at me as it seems. My heart picks up speed, and I distract myself by dancing with the baby, twirling her around and around while she shrieks with giggles.
“You’re good at this,” Mitchell says from behind me, and I turn to face him.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He gives me a nod as he stares at Emmy, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“When you said you had a kid you didn’t know about, I wasn’t sure what to think.
Seeing you with her… it’s like you were made to be her dad. ”
Riley hands me the bottle and I adjust my hold on Emmy, tilting her at the right angle. Her little hands clutch at the bottle as she suckles at the plastic nipple.
“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him, my attention stuck on my wife as she puts away the can of formula.
Footsteps announce the arrival of another person, and I turn to see Bex approaching, two empty bottles of wine in her hand.
“Riley, do you have—” She stops, her gaze falling to Mitchell. Anger clouds her face in an instant. “What the hell are you doing here, Nick? Why don’t you go back to New Orleans and ruin someone else’s day?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he snaps, his entire body coiled with tension. He looks like an animal backed into a corner, ready to lash out and attack to defend himself.
“Fuck you.” She hands Riley the empty bottles. “I’m out. See you at the game.”
“Coming to watch me play?” Mitchell smirks, his dark eyes bright with a challenge.
“Not on your life.” With that, she spins on her heels and stalks out.
I don’t miss the way Mitchell’s gaze lingers on her ass as she grabs her purse and coat before wrenching open the front door and disappearing.
“What’s that about?” Riley asks.
He drains his beer and tosses it into the nearby recycling bin. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing.” Raising my eyebrows, I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t say anything. “You two have history?”
“Something like that,” he mutters. He grabs a bottle of Gatorade off the table, cracking the lid and taking a gulp. “Cute kid. I’m leaving.”
“You can’t go after Bex. She’ll kill you.”
“Why would I go after her?” He snorts. “I don’t hate myself that much.”
Emmy finishes her bottle, and I hoist her onto my shoulder to burp her. Riley tucks a cloth under her face, her fingers brushing the nape of my neck, and a shiver zaps through me.
A few good pats later, Emmy is content again, and I shove her into Mitchell’s arms.
“Here, hold the baby,” I say. “It’ll make you feel better.”
His eyes widen with alarm. “I—I can’t. I’ll drop her.”
My hands on his upper back, I steer him into a nearby chair, and he sinks into it automatically. I adjust his hold on Emmy, who giggles with delight at a new face. She claps her hands on his bearded cheeks, and he flinches.
“Feel better?” I ask with a smirk.
There’s still a line of tension in his shoulders, but the anger on his face has receded.
“I’m fine,” he snaps. Emmy squeals happily and his dark eyes soften. “She is pretty cute.”
“She’s fucking adorable. Doesn’t it make you want one of your own?”
Mitchell laughs. “Yeah, no. Not interested.”