Chapter 1
Hunter
The drive out to Cole’s ranch took just over an hour, which meant Isla had asked me if we were almost there approximately thirty-seven times.
“Dad?”
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, kiddo?”
“Are we almost there?” she whined.
I fought a smile and kept one hand loose on the wheel. “Almost.”
“You said that ten minutes ago.” I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her lower lip pushed out. She was pouting, which made her even more adorable.
“And now we’re ten minutes closer,” I said, grinning.
She huffed, dramatic as hell, and pressed her forehead to the window of my SUV.
Her dark hair was pulled into two braids Holland had taught me how to do after watching me butcher a ponytail one too many times.
She wore her swimsuit under her shorts and T-shirt, flip-flops already dangling off her feet, with a towel and goggles clutched beside her like she was preparing for the Olympics.
“Do you think Mila’s already swimming?”
Why was it that kids had no patience? Mila was Cole’s youngest daughter. She and Isla were only a couple of months apart.
“Probably.” I wasn’t trying to goad her. It was the truth. It was hotter than Satan’s oven outside. There was no way the kids weren’t already in the pool.
I thought back to when Isla was little and I used to make the drive out to Cole and Holland’s ranch outside the city.
The years were flying by. How was she already ten years old?
I didn’t know how the hell that had happened.
One minute she was a tiny thing on my chest, smelling like baby shampoo and milk, and the next she was in the backseat ready to run off with her friends.
The ranch came into view at the end of a long private drive, sprawling and sun-soaked, with white fencing and a main house that looked like it belonged on the cover of some rich-person magazine.
Cars were already parked along the curved driveway when we pulled in.
Music drifted from somewhere out back, mixed with laughter, kids yelling, and the faint smell of barbecue smoke.
Isla sat up straighter. “We’re here?”
Before I had even shifted into park, she was unbuckling. I laughed, killed the engine, and climbed out. The July heat hit me immediately, thick and bright, the kind that made the air shimmer over the gravel. Isla was out of the car two seconds later, dragging her swim bag behind her.
“Mila!” she shrieked.
A matching shriek came from the direction of the house, and then Mila came tearing across the grass in a red swimsuit and denim shorts, her dark curls bouncing.
Isla dropped her bag and ran for her. The two girls collided in a hug like they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of maybe two weeks.
Jaden followed at a slower pace, lanky and unimpressed, a basketball tucked under one arm.
“There are no boys here,” he announced before I could even say hello.
I lifted my brows. “Nice to see you too, Jaden.”
He nodded like he was granting me a diplomatic greeting. “Hi, Hunter. There are still no boys.”
Mila stuck her tongue out at him. “You can swim with us.”
“I’m not swimming with little kids,” he said with a sour face.
“You’re twelve,” Isla said.
“I’m almost thirteen.”
“That’s still twelve,” my daughter said with familiar sass.
I covered my mouth with my fist to hide a laugh.
Jaden pointed toward the pool. “Fine. But if I swim with you, I’m picking the game.”
“No drowning games,” Mila said.
“They’re not drowning games,” Jaden argued.
Watching Jaden and Mila together reminded me of growing up with Quinn, my older sister.
It also made me feel lacking, like I’d failed Isla by not being able to give her siblings.
The three of them took off toward the backyard, Jaden still complaining while the girls completely ignored him.
I grabbed the cooler from the trunk and followed the sound of voices around the side of the house.
Cole and Holland didn’t do anything halfway.
Their backyard opened into a massive stone patio with long tables set up under string lights, even though the sun wouldn’t go down for hours.
There were red, white, and blue decorations everywhere, trays of food laid out under shaded covers, and an Olympic-sized pool glittering at the center of it all.
Kids ran barefoot across the grass. Adults stood in clusters with drinks in hand, catching up.
Cole stood near the grill, sunglasses on, beer in hand, looking more relaxed than he ever did behind the bench.
During the season, as head coach of the Dallas Blaze, he spent most nights with a permanent line between his brows.
But he wasn’t just my coach. Somewhere over the years, Cole had become my friend too.
He was a man who had built something solid.
Holland was beside him, laughing at something Paris said, one hand pressed to her chest. Holland had the kind of presence that made people lean toward her without realizing it.
Warm, sharp, beautiful, and somehow always aware of every kid within a thirty-foot radius.
Paris, her older sister, stood next to her, all elegance and easy confidence, with her husband, Ryse, at her side.
Half the people here were somehow connected by blood, marriage, hockey, or some complicated mix of all three.
Nils and Sierra Karlsson were here too, though for once, without the chaos of their triplets.
Nils had played on the same team as my dad when we were growing up, so he and Sierra were more like an aunt and uncle to me, even if we weren’t blood related.
I spotted Wolfe and Rebel Judd near the patio, deep in conversation with Cole.
Their kids were older now. Liam was already in college, and Ariella was finishing high school, which seemed impossible considering I still remembered when half these kids were running around with sticky hands and missing teeth.
Then I spotted Max McGuire, my teammate and the son of Ryse and Paris.
“Russell!” he called, lifting his beer.
Max was a forward on the Blaze. He was born into hockey just like I was.
Well, for him it came a little later since Ryse married his mom and adopted him after his father took off and never looked back.
He’d come to Dallas a couple years after me, and over time, he’d become one of my closest friends on the team.
He was a few years younger than me, but we were both in the last leg of our careers.
His younger sister Hannah was still a teenager. She stood beside him, scrolling through her phone with the bored expression of someone who had been dragged to a family event and was counting the seconds until she could leave.
I set the cooler down near the drinks table. “You plan on helping with anything, or just standing there looking pretty?”
Max grinned. “Obviously, I’m looking pretty.” He batted his lashes.
“You’re useless,” I joked.
Cole turned at the sound of my voice and smiled. “Hunter. You made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss free food,” I said.
That was a bad joke, clearly, but Coach still smiled and pulled me into a quick hug, clapping me hard on the back.
“Isla already disappear?” he asked.
“Yup. Getting ready to swim with Mila and Jaden.”
“Good. Mila’s been asking about her since breakfast.” Cole glanced toward the water, where the girls were already kicking off their shorts.
Holland came over next and hugged me with the kind of warmth that always made me feel like I was part of the family, even though I wasn’t. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Thanks for having us.”
“Always.” She looked past me toward the pool. “Isla remembered sunscreen?”
“I sprayed her down when we left the city.”
“Oh no, that’ll do a number on your leather seats,” she said.
“Got that covered too. Made her sit on a beach towel.”
“Of course you did. You’re dad of the year,” she said with a smile.
“Now you’re flattering me.”
Cole cleared his throat, and Holland walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re the best daddy around.” He grinned, and she laid a fat one on his lips.
The afternoon settled around us in that easy holiday way.
Burgers on the grill. Country music low in the background.
Kids splashing in the pool. Someone handed me a beer, and for once, I let myself relax.
It wasn’t always easy for me to do that.
Relaxing meant my mind had room to wander, and my mind had a bad habit of going places I didn’t want it to.
To mistakes. To losses. To all the ways life had turned out different than I’d once expected. But Isla was happy. That was enough.
I was listening to Wolfe tell Cole some story from their college days when the patio door opened.
At first, I barely noticed. A woman stepped out of the house, and every conversation around me seemed to soften at the edges.
She was tall. Five-nine, maybe. Athletic in a way that looked natural, like she didn’t have to work at it even though she definitely did.
A short white dress skimmed over her body, simple and summery, showing long legs and tanned skin.
Platform sandals gave her another inch or two.
Her chocolate-brown hair fell loose over her shoulders, glossy in the sunlight, and when she turned her head, I saw eyes the color of deep forest green.
For one stupid second, I forgot where I was.
I think I forgot who I was. I didn’t allow myself to have visceral reactions like this to a woman.
Or maybe it was that no woman I’d met in the past decade was capable of pulling a reaction like this out of me.
I’d had my share of one-night stands on the road.
I was a man with needs, but I hadn’t had a relationship since my ex Amy screwed me over after our wedding reception.
This was out of character for me. Yet I felt my blood pumping in a way I didn’t recognize.