Chapter 8
NICKY
“Bonesy!” Natalia squeals gleefully as she opens our front door for Charlie. Seeing her excited face, my closest friend kneels down to her level and gives her hair a gentle ruffle.
“Hi, Natty,” Charlie greets her before looking over her head at me. I give him a nod and let the pair follow me into the living room to the left of the entry. I hear them chatting and the snick of the front door closing as I cross the open-living space.
I bought the house with my first NHL contract.
Coach guided me through the process, helping me secure a realtor and the bank loan.
As a former young, single dad, I’ve always had a deep connection with Callum Andrews.
He’s stepped in more than once over the years to help me tackle the balance of parenthood and playing, becoming so loved by Natalia that she calls him “Papa Cal” and thinks of him as her grandfather.
I ended up putting twenty percent down on the four-bedroom farmhouse in a neighborhood with good schools and taking on a huge adult responsibility: a thirty-year mortgage.
I slowly built up the style that runs throughout: durable and comfortable for a growing child and an oversized professional athlete.
The downstairs has this living room, an open-concept kitchen and dining room, one bathroom, and two bedrooms: the guest room and another that Natalia uses for storing her toys when they’re not scattered about the living room.
Upstairs are twin primary suites: large bedrooms with attached full baths.
I loved the idea of having Natalia on the same floor as me, but not sacrificing anything else for either of us.
The house has a large front and back yard, with a three-car garage attached to the kitchen.
The single port is an in-home gym, while the double is where I park my SUV and we keep Natalia’s bike.
There’s room for a second car, and Ms. Margaret parks there when she’s working.
Our street is full of other families with children of varying ages, but the generous lot size helps us from feeling too crowded.
Our subdivision is less than an hour from the team facilities and arena, and on a warm day, we could take a long walk to Natalia’s school instead of driving.
With the autumnal chill of November fully setting in on the East Coast, we don’t walk too often at the moment.
But school has become progressively easier since that first day, with Nat thriving in music class and making a core group of friends she has playdates with frequently.
Today, her playdate is one Charlie Kane, stepping in as a last-minute sitter on our off day, so I can go into the facility for an interview with the documentary crew before we hit the road for back-to-back away games and come home for Thanksgiving.
It’s a grind—and part of the job—but I can’t wait to spend so much time with Nat since she’s off from school.
My daughter and Charlie join me in the living room, Charlie crossing to where I’ve settled into my large sectional, while Natalia runs upstairs to grab whatever she wants to play with.
“I should be back in a couple of hours, and then we can order some pizza,” I say to Charlie as he settles on the plush carpet, his long legs extended in front of him and crossed at his socked ankles.
“Pizza sounds good. If I can convince Nat to put the MagnaTiles away, can we watch a movie?” He gestures to the half-built castle of transparent colored tiles and the various princess figures around it.
“I’ve been wanting to introduce her to How to Train Your Dragon.
The animated version, not the live action—that might be too scary. ”
“If she wants to, that’s okay,” I agree, then check the time on my watch. I stand and stretch, wondering why I bothered sitting down in the first place.
“What’s the interview about today?” Charlie asks from his spot on the floor. He’s picked up Merida. The princess from Brave sits in the palm of his hand, her bow and arrow pointed at him.
“Not sure,” I reply. “I’m never really sure. Sometimes, it’s just a recap of what’s happened: games and training. Other times, Andy wants to know more about the dynamics of playing. Our team and how I found my place on it.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” he contemplates, his deep voice rumbling in a thoughtful way. “Plus, Bea’s still there to make sure you’re not asked anything you don’t want to answer, right?”
“Yeah, she’s there.” I try to infuse my voice with as much nonchalance as possible, even taking a few purposeful steps toward the entryway, but Charlie scoffs.
“Man, you’re so gone for her, aren’t you?”
My head drops back, and I stare at my perfectly cream-colored ceiling for a moment. Turning back to my friend, I hold my hands out, like that explains everything. Charlie’s face breaks into a huge grin, and he rises with a surprising amount of grace from the floor.
“Oh, it’s about damn time you admitted it!
” Charlie slaps his hand on my shoulder.
He’s excited—thrilled even. I open my mouth, but he continues with his enthusiastic support, “The way you were both eyeing each other at Halloween? All of us kept thinking we were interrupting a private moment, but then…nothing. Are you finally going to do something about it?”
“Like what?” I shrug off his hand and shake my head. “I’ve barely let myself enjoy a woman since Natalia came along, and I damn near gave up the idea of finding anything serious when I joined the league. Between single-dad life and our schedule, what woman would want that?”
“One who knows you’re more than what’s on the surface.
” Charlie angles his head until he can lock eyes with me.
He’s six inches shorter than me, two years my junior, and doesn’t carry quite the same burdens as me.
But right now, he’s doing that thing every guy on the team knows he can do: be older, wiser, and bigger than all of us.
He speaks from a font of experience we’ve never been able to source, but is always spot on.
He’s hitting me with a truth I need to hear, so I stand still, pushing away all the doubt creeping in and paying attention.
“One who sees past that stone exterior you’ve got.
She’ll protect you and make you laugh, and she’ll make Natalia a part of her world because she’s part of yours.
She’ll know you, the same way you’ll know her. But not if you don’t try.”
Bastard. He’s fucking right. Of course.
“I haven’t asked someone out since high school prom,” I grumble. Natalia’s footsteps sound on the stairs.
“It’s not like it’s really changed. You just…ask.” Charlie ends the discussion with that, sliding past me to startle a happy scream from Natalia when he jumps out at her at the corner of the doorway.
On the way to the arena, I replay my conversation with Charlie.
Just ask. It’s so simple. But as I engage the locks on my SUV in the parking lot, my hands are sweating at the thought.
I try stringing together a sentence of what I could say—how I could ask—but it’s as though my brain has lost all vocabulary in the file “asking an attractive woman out.” For the first time since my first practice here three years ago, I walk into the offices nervous as hell.
Inside our locker room, Andy and the crew are finishing their setup, and I’m scanning the space for curly brown hair and a British accent.
I don’t see Bea, but I feel it the moment she enters the room behind me.
I can’t explain how I know she’s there, but like a vine growing in a garden, I twist toward the source of light.
The sunshine.
My sunshine.
“Hello, solnyshka.”
Bea’s steps falter at my greeting, the skirt of her dress swaying around her knees before she recovers her stride. For some reason, a light blush appears on the peak of her cheekbones, but it’s pushed to the edges of her face when she gives me a warm smile.
“Hi,” she says. Her hand brushes up and down my arm in a casual manner, but goosebumps rise under the sleeve.
I swallow thickly and will my own hand not to shake when I use her action to reach for her waist. Without second-guessing myself, I fold her gently against me in a friendly hug.
At least I hope it is. It’s strange to feel nervous about something I do with others regularly, but those hugs are casual and don’t have deeper desires attached to them.
It’s the first time I’ve hugged her, a realization I wish I had changed earlier, because Bea fits perfectly against me.
I try not to shiver with how good it feels when she slides her arms around my sides and up my back, returning my embrace.
We hold each other for a moment—even if I wish it could go on longer—and when she pulls back, there’s the briefest crinkle between her eyebrows. “You okay, Nicky?”
“I’m great,” I tell her honestly. The nerves of a different kind, which had been eating me alive before she showed up, have faded.
My hands still sit on Bea’s curved hips, my thumb idly rubbing, as though I’m trying to reassure her, and I like that she hasn’t fully stepped from my hold.
“Just the usual jitters I get when we do these. But having you here always helps.”
The blush returns to her cheeks, and I can’t help but love being responsible for putting it there.
Looking down into her warm brown eyes, which flicker with glints of amber and gold, a certainty fills me: I’m allowed to like this woman.
I’m allowed to want this woman. Doing so doesn’t take away from how I perform as a player or detract from my role as a father.
Bea’s presence in my life slips in alongside those two things, and being with her brings out parts of myself I forgot I had.
I’m on the verge of asking her to dinner when Andy clears their throat next to us.
“Hey, we’re ready for you.”