Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Al
The team jet has never felt more like a prison than it does right now. We’re somewhere over the Carolinas or Virginia, and home feels impossibly far away.
“Will you shut up?” Larsson snaps, after I sigh for the fourth time in about five minutes. He’s across the aisle from me, sitting by himself since Vanessa didn’t make the trip.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“We all want to get home. You aren’t making it happen any quicker.”
“How do you do it?”
He cocks his head at me, taking off his headphones. “Do what?”
“Being away from your family. Constantly on the road, and then never getting to spend enough time with them when you’re home?”
“It’s the job,” he says slowly. “I like when Vanessa joins us on the road, even though we both miss Leo. But when she stays in Boston, it makes coming home to her that much better.”
“I just—I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. DCFS came by today and—”
Larsson frowns.
“Social services. Because I’m not on the birth certificate, everything is complicated, and…” I sigh again. “I just want my kid to be mine. I don’t want this constant threat looming over our shoulders.”
“It will all resolve soon.” His tone is firm. Sure. Like there’s not a single doubt in his mind.
If only I could be as trusting.
“But you don’t know that. They could decide my job means I can’t be there for her, or—”
“It will resolve,” he repeats. “Will it be difficult? Perhaps. You can get through it. You will get through it. Because the alternative…”
“She’s my kid. Mine. And yeah, maybe the way I found out was a bit unconventional, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”
“You won’t have to.” Larsson nods, way more confident than I am. “If we have to get team lawyers on it, we will. If we have to go to public goodwill, we will.”
“I don’t want to air my dirty laundry in public.” The last thing I want is Emmy growing up to find her birth mother’s name dragged through the mud online. That kind of drama sticks around. No matter how deeply it gets buried, it will always resurface eventually.
“You won’t have to. It will all work out.”
“I want to believe you. I just…”
“If you don’t trust yourself, trust in Riley. She won’t let anything happen to your child. She loves her as much as you do.”
I’m not sure if he’s ever spoken to Riley one on one, but given she and Vanessa are close, it wouldn’t surprise me if he were privy to more of the gossip than I am.
Larsson has opened up considerably since I’ve joined the team, but he still keeps to himself a lot.
Outside of Andrews, our equipment manager, and Logan and MacGregor, he doesn’t socialize with most of the guys.
He’s not antisocial, just autistic. On the ice, he’s laser-focused, and off it, he keeps it hockey related or talks about Vanessa.
It’s rare he engages in conversation like this.
Since Leo was born, he’s definitely come out of his shell a bit more.
“Thanks, man.” I reach over to clap his shoulder, then think better of it. He’s touch averse, and after he was nice enough to talk me off a ledge, I’d hate to turn around and make him uncomfortable.
He nods, lifting his headphones over his ears again. I guess he’s done being supportive.
I try to nap, but sleep eludes me. My skin itches everywhere, all at once, but I know it’s not an allergic reaction. I merely want to get home to my girls.
Both of them.
When we finally land, I’m the first off the plane, but of course my luggage is the last to be unloaded. I’m half tempted to leave my suitcase there.
The thirty-mile drive home usually takes me a good forty-five minutes, but tonight, I make it in just under half an hour. I park my car behind Riley’s and unclench my hands from around the steering wheel.
She’s probably asleep. Both of them. It’s close to four o’clock in the morning.
But when I go inside, I find the upstairs hall light on. Riley’s door is open, but she’s not inside.
I poke my head into Emmy’s room, and my heart nearly thumps out of my chest at the sight of my girls. My daughter is lying on Riley’s chest, her breathing steadier than it was when I left.
Lifting Emmy into my arms, I hold my breath, but relax when she doesn’t stir. Riley does, though.
“Hmm?” Her lashes flutter open, and she relaxes when she catches sight of me. Her sleepy smile makes me grin. “You’re home.”
“Come to bed,” I whisper, trying not to startle either of them.
“But—she’ll wake up.”
“I’ve got her. Come lie down.”
Offering my hand, I’m gratified when she takes it, and I lace our fingers together.
I lead her into my room, and Riley blinks a few times, even as she follows me.
She’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of my Grizzlies T-shirts, and I have to admit, I like the sight of her in my clothes. Maybe a little too much.
“You want me to stay in here?” Her sleepy expression is adorably confused.
“We can all stay here together.”
“Co-sleeping isn’t safe. We could crush her.”
I set Emmy down in the bassinet beside my bed. We don’t use it very often, usually she’s in her crib in her own room, but right now I’m glad we have it. She’s close enough we can check on her, but she won’t be in the bed with us. Hopefully, she’ll sleep for another few hours.
“She’ll be fine. And we’ll be right here if she wakes up.”
Stripping off my coat and suit jacket, I toss them to the side. Riley stands at the end of my bed, tracking my hands while I unbutton my shirt. Her gaze sears into me like a brand, and my cock pulses, enjoying the frank appreciation on her face.
Discarding my shirt, I work at my belt and then unceremoniously shove my suit pants down, almost forgetting to take off my shoes. Once I’ve gotten rid of them, plus my socks, I climb into the bed in my boxer briefs.
“Come lie with me,” I say again, softer this time.
As I reach out my hand, Riley rounds the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding in beside me.
“Hi,” she whispers, rolling onto her side to face me.
“Hi,” I murmur back.
Before I know what I’m doing, I cup her cheek and lower my mouth to hers. It’s an innocent kiss, a simple brush of lips against lips. It’s not meant to be sexual; I’m not trying to start anything.
I just needed to kiss her. I do it again, and she gasps.
“What are you doing?” she breathes.
But she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her hand wraps around my wrist, clinging to me.
“I don’t know.”
It feels right, though.
She pulls away first. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.” She rolls over, putting her back to me. But then she scoots closer, pulling my arm around her waist. Her lopsided ponytail brushes against my face, and the scent of her lavender shampoo fills my nose. I finally feel at ease. Settled.
Her body was made for mine. Fuck, her soft curves feel so good pressed to me, but I tamp down my baser urges and indulge in the simple pleasure of holding her. I didn’t realize how much I needed to have her in my arms until now.
I want more than a marriage of convenience. I want something real. We’re married, and for better or for worse, we’re stuck together.
And now I know what I have to do: I have to woo my wife.
She lets out a soft moan, melting into me, and I place a gentle kiss on her nape. My last thought, before I finally drift off to sleep, is that I could get used to this.