Chapter 1 #2
“She’s very nice. It’s just…” Victor sank down on the bench.
“The woman is a nuisance, always smiling and humming and being fucking cheerful and shit. It’ll be like living with goddamned Mary Poppins or…
” Victor looked across the locker room to where Tank was regaling Dean and Blake Mills with some outlandish story.
“Or goddamned Tank for three months. I like my solitude. I like my fucking peace and quiet.”
Rook shook his head, a complete lack of sympathy in his expression.
Instead, the asshole looked amused. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.
You love spending time with Pip, and Belle will be there to do all the annoying kid stuff, like bath time and cutting the crust off the bread.
You think maybe you’re getting pissed off about nothing. ”
Victor had told himself those same things, ever since Viv hit him with the request to keep Pip a few weeks earlier. But no amount of self-reassurance was calming him down. “I’m always fucking pissed off,” he muttered. “Why should this be any different?”
Rook laughed as he picked up his duffel bag and slung it over his arm. “You can say that again. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And whenever Belle starts to get on your nerves, just go to the gym or call me. I’m always down for a beer or lunch at Pat’s Pub.”
While this was Rook’s first year in the majors and with the Stingrays, the guy fit in as if he’d always been there. He was one hell of a welcome addition, and Victor hoped he’d continue with the team for a long time. Or at least until Victor hung up his skates.
While he wasn’t planning to retire anytime soon, Victor was cognizant that his days in the NHL were numbered.
At thirty-six, he was the oldest on the team.
So old, in fact, that he’d actually played with their current coach, when Dean was a Stingray.
Of course, at the time, Dean had been the one at the end of his career and Victor was the rookie.
“Thanks, man,” Victor said. “Even if Mary Poppins isn’t getting on my nerves, I’m going to take you up on that beer. Have a feeling I’m going to need regular breaks. I love Pip more than oxygen, but Jesus Christ, that kid’s got a lot of energy.”
Victor hadn’t undersold his love of peace and quiet.
Not to mention the fact he was a creature of habit and comfort.
For the past sixteen years, his summers had followed the same routine—daily workouts, dozing by his pool, catching up on his reading, bingeing all the shows he missed during the season, and the occasional dinner or happy hour with his teammates or sister.
He had a feeling his rest and recuperation time was going to be cut down significantly, and it was already making him decidedly grumpy.
Rook left the locker room and Victor tried to summon the energy to follow suit. However, the second Rook cleared out, Coulton Moore, the Rays goalie, plopped down next to him on the bench.
“So, three months with Pip starts today, huh?”
Somedays, Victor swore the Stingrays were gossipier than a bunch of old women. There was very little that went on that everyone didn’t know about and fucking discuss. Keeping shit private was easier said than done with this bunch of busybodies.
“Yeah. Viv’s dropping her off this afternoon.”
Coulton, like Rook, seemed confused by Victor’s tone, because there wasn’t anyone on the planet who didn’t know how much he loved his niece.
The difference between Coulton and Rook, however, was time. He and Coulton had been friends for quite a few years, so the goalie had more working knowledge.
He grinned. “Let me guess. You’re not happy about the package deal. Belle?”
“Three months of Mary Fucking Sunshine,” he bitched. “Not sure I can take it.”
Coulton chuckled. “You’ll be just fine. In fact, if you stopped being such a bear all the time, I think you could be better than fine.”
He growled—because this wasn’t the first time Coulton had suggested Victor might be harboring feelings for the nanny. Which was ridiculous.
The woman was too cheerful, too friendly, too sweet, too…
Well, she was too fucking everything.
And even if she wasn’t, Victor could NOT have feelings for her.
Because Belle wasn’t just Pip’s nanny. She was practically family.
Which meant hands off.
Five years ago, Belle had walked into their lives with her messy bun, determined brown eyes, and bright, ever-present smile.
She’d done more than just help care for his newborn niece.
She’d steadied and comforted and cared for Vivian, as well…
who’d buried a husband and delivered a baby within the span of a month.
To say his sister had been a mess during those early days of motherhood was an understatement.
For the first and only time in his career, Victor had taken a leave of absence during the hockey season. He’d convinced the Stingrays organization to give him six weeks off so that he could be there for Vivian. Given the circumstances, they’d been extremely understanding.
Vivian’s husband, Phil, had known he was dying.
And one of the last things he’d done was hire Belle as their nanny.
She’d been there the day he and Vivian brought Pip home from the hospital.
That was the first time Victor met her—and he’d been certain Phil had made a mistake, because with one look, Victor could see Belle was too young and inexperienced for the position.
However, he couldn’t express his concerns to Vivian back then.
His poor sister had already been to hell and back, and he wasn’t about to add his worries about the nanny to her plate.
Besides, Vivian didn’t seem to see what Victor did. She was sure Phil had made the right call about the nanny. So he’d held his tongue…but he’d kept a close fucking eye on Belle during those early days.
It hadn’t taken the woman long to prove herself indispensable.
Annoyingly cheerful, but also indispensable.
As the years passed, she’d done what he hadn’t expected—earned his respect and trust. She’d shown real dedication and loyalty to Vivian and Pip, and while she got under his skin like nobody else, he was still impressed by her drive and commitment to her job.
As someone who also gave one hundred and thirty percent to his career, he recognized a kindred workaholic spirit.
“Belle is like family to Vivian and Pip. So there will be no better than fine,” Victor muttered, glancing at the time on his phone.
Vivian was scheduled to drop Pip—and Belle—off in an hour, because apparently, Belle’s piece of shit car had died two days earlier.
The plan was for Belle to use Vivian’s until she either got hers back from the shop or admitted it was time to buy a new one.
Coulton rolled his eyes, rising. “I’m not going to nag. All I wanted to say was play nice.”
Victor hmphed, rising and grabbing his stuff from his locker. “I’m always fucking nice.”
That lie earned him one hell of a belly laugh from his buddy.
“Sure you are,” Coulton said, bumping shoulders with him. “A regular Prince Charming.”
Victor shot his friend the bird, then made his way to the parking lot. Climbing behind the wheel of his beloved Mercedes-Benz S65 AMG, he pulled out onto the street and headed for home.
He’d gotten a fuck-ton of kid-friendly food delivered last night, including popcorn and miniature chocolate bars he intended to pull out for a movie night this evening.
He was concerned about how Pip would react to her mom leaving the country, so he wanted to be sure to have plenty of ways to distract her if she was sad.
Pip didn’t cry often, but her tears ripped him to pieces when they appeared, so he was armed with a mountain of sugary and salty treats in hopes of warding them away.
Of course, he suspected it wasn’t just Pip’s tears he was in danger of seeing this afternoon.
Vivian had barely been holding it together ever since deciding to leave town.
Now that the day had arrived, he feared she’d either fall apart or back out completely.
He was prepared to make sure she did neither, because this trip was important to her, and he knew it.
His sister was a literal fucking genius, miles beyond smart.
She was a genetic counselor at Johns Hopkins.
However, her original field had been archaeogenetics.
She’d been in the process of writing a book about her findings regarding the origins of early Americans, her work tied to an archeological dig in Africa, when the life she’d expected to have fell apart within the span of twelve months.
In the course of just one year, she and Phil discovered they were going to be parents, followed a couple of months later by Phil’s terminal diagnosis that turned their joy of impending parenthood into endless trips to specialists, searching for a miracle that simply didn’t exist.
Vivian had put her research and the book on hold for years, raising her daughter on her own after Phil died of a glioblastoma right before Pip was born.
Victor had spent too much of Pip’s first year of life, raging about how fucking unfair it was that Phil never even got to see or hold his daughter.
He’d gone so fucking dark that several of his teammates—Blake, Preston, and Coulton—had held a mini-intervention, gently suggesting that he talk to one of the team’s counselors.
He’d resisted; he wasn’t a touchy-feely guy and he never talked about his fucking emotions.
However, because his teammates were also his best friends, they’d persevered, and Victor could reluctantly admit they’d been right to do so.
Talking to a counselor had helped him overcome his anger and move forward in the grieving process.
He’d loved his brother-in-law; the man was perfect for his sister.
Vivian had also sought counseling almost immediately after Pip’s birth, finding a way to be an attentive, loving, amazing mother even while grieving over the loss of the love of her life.