Chapter 14
Ronan
“Fuck what I said, it don’t mean shit now…” I sing dramatically into my hockey stick microphone, jumping up on the bench of the locker room.
“Woah, Holy shit!” Tate says, splaying his beefy defenseman arms out wide— ready to catch me if I fall.
“In skates? You’re outta ya damn mind!” When Tate gets real worked up his Texas accent always comes out thick and he drops syllables. Sometimes he picks extra ones up.
I let my head fall back with a laugh at his expense.
“I’m glad to see you're back to your normal, batshit crazy self.” Tate chuckles.
“I’m ready to kick ass. Well, I’m ready for you guys to kick ass. No fighting for me.” I say, giving my lucky hockey skate keychain a kiss. I do the same to the polaroid before pulling my mask down over my face.
We head out into the tunnel, where I’m surprised to see Ford. He’s in his suit, talking to a blonde woman in a Grady jersey.
“Who’s the bombshell?” Ryan asks, coming to stand beside me. His voice causes Ford to look up. A flash of several different emotions crossed his face. Anger. Relief. Determination.
“Ronan.” He holds his hand up to call me over. The blonde woman glances over her shoulder. Vanessa.
Oh, fuck.
“Hey.” I say as I come to stand beside Ford. Vanessa smiles up at me, a hopeful smile that makes something ugly twist in my stomach. Her face falls briefly when I add, “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean? This is the soft launch.” Ford huffs a forced laugh, eyes scanning the hallway. He puts a hand on my shoulder and leans in to talk low enough only I can hear. “Your girlfriend is here to watch your game.”
That’s right, I sent that text.
Right before I got Poppy. Dammit. I was so out of sorts seeing Emalyn with Kade. It doesn’t really matter how serious she is about someone else… I’ve always been hers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her.
Emalyn.
She stands frozen, eyes wide. Poppy is strapped to her chest in a blue checkered carrier that I'm pretty sure is meant for human babies. Emalyn’s gaze flicks from me to Vanessa and back again.
“Just a sec.” I say to Ford and Vanessa. When I turn back, Emalyn has ducked her head in an attempt to walk away unnoticed.
“Emalyn!” I say, trying to jog after her through the hall in my skates, “Come on, don’t make me penguin run after you.”
“Okay, okay.” She says, shifting her weight. She looks down at my skates and then over my shoulder. “Sorry.”
“Look… Our agents got together. With Vanessa and I both being chosen for the campaign, they thought it’d be a good idea for us to be seen in public.
Together.” I explain. I search her face for any sign.
Any hint that her offering to keep Poppy meant more to her too.
She opens her mouth to speak when a giggle sounds from the tunnel behind me.
Emalyn’s eyes find Vanessa over my shoulder again.
“Unless there’s a reason I should say no…” I lead her.
Please, don’t make the safe choice, Emalyn.
Not this time.
“No, she seems great.” Emalyn says with a laugh though it’s forced. Nothing like my favorite, borderline witchy cackle of hers. “Maybe she’d like to go fishing, too. It could be a, uh, double date.”
My face falls. I know I fail to conceal the hurt expression that overtakes my face because her face falls too. Disappointment washes over me.
“Ronan, wait.”
“I get it, Sunshine.” I wave her off. I lean down and plant a kiss on Poppy’s head. “Be good for Mommy.”
When I turn to walk away I hear Emalyn mutter to Poppy.
“Mamá es una idiota por no decirle la verdad a papá.”
After signing jerseys and posing for a dozen photos, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Thankfully, there’s only a few more kids.
Alli has been directing the few press reporters to stay along the side of the room and out of the way so that our team photographer can get the best shots for the Bruisers’ social media page.
Which means Emalyn’s gorgeous face has been directly in front of me for the past half hour, while I've had to pose with another woman on my arm.
I get that they want the full experience, but being in full gear for this is killing me. The mask that’s been propped on top of my head is hotter than usual, considering we aren’t on the ice. I pull it off, kissing my first two fingers and pressing them to the photo like I always do.
Geez, whose idea was this?
Oh yeah. Mine.
Dante comes up to shake my hand.
“We just have a few more to get through. This has turned out great. It’s gonna be really good press for Sandy’s.” He says, that low voice of his carrying through the room. “Your sister had some great advice. We should absolutely offer her triple whatever the Bruisers are paying.”
“I’ve tried.”
“I’ll take a crack at it.” Dante smirks. He usually gets his way.
“Im afraid she’s into cowboys more than Italian mobsters.” I chuckle, knowing Alli wouldn’t give up the opportunity to work near her husband everyday.
We’re interrupted by a boy near my nephews’ age. Maybe nine or ten. He elbows past Dante as he gazes up at me, eyes as wide as saucers.
“Woah. It’s you.”
“Hey, there.” I smile at the kids' enthusiasm. He looks starstruck and… oddly familiar. The more I look at him, the tighter my chest feels. The sandy blonde hair and the dimple protruding in his right cheek. His smile even sits slightly crooked.
“Ace, there you are.” A voice I'd know anywhere says, his calloused hand coming to the boy’s shoulder, squeezing. “I’m sorry about that, he’s been so excited for this event. He loves hockey.”
I stare back at the green eyes of my father. There’s no recognition in his gaze. My gaze falls back to the boy in front of me, my… brother. It hurts to look at him. My stomach feels torn in two, and I might puke. I take a deep breath and put the mask into place.
This is not the place to fall apart.
Not with a wall of reporters.
Not for a family that doesn’t even recognize me.
“Hey, Ace. Do you know who I am?” I chuckle when he nods eagerly.
“Yes! You’re the Ronan Grady.” He nearly shouts. There’s a small gasp a few feet behind him. Ace twists, looking confused. “Mom?”
She covers her mouth with her hand, before spinning and leaving the room.
“Is Ace the name you want on it?” I ask the kid, looking down at the merch. I don’t spare my father a glance.
“No, that’s just my nickname. You can write it out to James Christopher Murphy.” He says proudly.
“Just in case I get a new nickname.”
“You got it.” I give him a smile. My breath catches in my chest when I look at him again. Dragging my gaze away, I scribble a note and sign his full name.
We pose for the picture, but Ace turns his head when Emalyn is about to snap the photo.
“Can I wear the cage helmet? For the picture? I’ll be super careful with it, I promise.”
I hesitate for a moment before passing it to him. His small hands take it eagerly. He stops short of putting it on, a small crease in his brows.
“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the polaroid. He glances up at me.
“Yeah. And my friend.”
“Wow. Do all the players keep a picture?” His eyes are wide as he blinks up at me, waiting for me to answer.
“No.” I say before gently taking the helmet from him. I fix it into place on his head.
Once the photo is taken, I hightail it from the room.
I go straight to the ice. I have a brother. One that’s been watching me on TV… One that’s here tonight.
A small flame of rage burns in my chest and carries me through the game.
They left me in that social workers office… and started over without me.