Chapter 3
Hunter
By the time I zipped Isla’s suitcase for the third time, my ten-year-old daughter was standing in the doorway of her bedroom with her arms crossed.
“Daddy hurry up.”
I pressed my palm against the top of the suitcase and tested the zipper again.
“You already checked the zipper,” she said. She was too perceptive.
I didn’t want to let her go. That was the problem.
“I’m going to miss the flight,” she said.
She was mature for her age. Sometimes I worried she was too mature, and that made me feel guilty.
“I’ll make sure to get us there on time,” I assured.
I had been starting out my career in the NHL when she was born.
Life was busy. I had taken six months off initially, but I couldn’t take more than that if I didn’t want to risk my career, which meant I was living with a lot of guilt.
My sister, Quinn, helped me when I was out of town.
Hell, she helped me when I was in town. I didn’t know what I would’ve done without her.
My parents were also a big help. There were times they spent months on end taking care of Isla.
When I told them I was leaving Chicago when Isla was three, Mom was devastated.
Dad understood that my job was taking me to Dallas.
My parents and Quinn picked up and moved across the country with me.
“I’m going to miss, Bug,” I said trying not to mope.
She was growing up fast, and I knew I had to let her go. Let her have this time at camp with her friends.
“It’s only Los Angeles and it’s two weeks. You’ll be fine,” she said.
That statement made me snort laugh and I gathered her in my arms and hugged her. I stared at the suitcase, pretending the pressure building behind my ribs had something to do with the zipper and not the fact that my little girl was leaving me for the first time.
I had been pretending since the day she came to me with big, hopeful eyes and asked if she could go to sleepaway camp in LA with Mila.
That was the detail she had used like a weapon.
Mila’s parents had already said yes. Mila had been before.
Mila promised it would be fun. There would be swimming, crafts, movie nights, a ropes course, and cabins with bunk beds.
Isla had looked so hopeful that I’d felt myself losing the battle before she had even finished the pitch.
It was my off time, the part of summer I guarded like a starving man guarding food.
Once training ramped up and camp started, everything became schedules, flights, practices, games, recovery, film, and team obligations.
Summer was when I got mornings with my kid.
Pancakes. Lazy afternoons. Movies on the couch. I had wanted those two weeks with her.
I released her from the hug. “Daddy, I’m going to be fine,” she said.
“I know.” And I did. She was independent and smart. She made good decisions.
“And you’re going to be fine,” she added.
I nodded once. “Obviously.”
“You’re making a weird face, Daddy.” She scrunched her nose.
“This is my normal face.”
“No.” She studied me carefully. “It’s your worried face.”
I exhaled a laugh that didn’t have much air in it. “Thanks.”
“You’ll survive without me.” She patted my cheek with the solemnity of someone delivering a medical diagnosis.
I caught her hand and kissed her knuckles because if I didn’t do something with the ache in my chest, it was going to swallow me whole.
“And maybe…” She looked away for half a second, then back at me. “Maybe while I’m gone, it would be a good time for you to find me a mommy.”
Every muscle in my body went still. Isla didn’t say it dramatically. She didn’t say it like a kid making a joke or trying to get a reaction. She said it softly, almost carefully, as if she had been thinking about it for longer than she wanted me to know.
“Isla.”
“What?” She dropped her gaze to her pink sneakers.
I sat on the edge of her bed because my knees suddenly didn’t feel as reliable as they had a minute ago. “Where did that come from?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know.”
Back on the 4th of July when she mentioned CC being her mommy and then told me they settled on big sister, I was caught off guard.
I didn’t know what to say. Luckily CC had told my daughter that she was better of as her big sister because I didn’t have something better.
I thought the issue was settled but it seems I should’ve spoken with Isla about her feelings on not having a mommy.
I just figured that I worked hard to fill both roles and that was enough.
Clearly, I was wrong. Now was the time to face the issue head on.
“I don’t have time to date,” I said. “We’re a duo, Bug.”
“I know.” She dragged the toe of one sneaker along the rug. “It’s just that Mila has a mom. Everyone has a mom. I mean, I have Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Quinn and Holland, but it’s not the same.”
My throat tightened. No, it wasn’t. And there was nothing I hated more than knowing I couldn’t make it the same for her.
From the time Isla was old enough to ask questions, I had given her the gentlest version of the truth I could manage.
I told her that her mother loved her very much, but she hadn’t been able to stay with her.
I told her that her mother had known I would take care of her and give her the life she deserved.
I told her that her mother had given me the greatest gift in the world, even if she couldn’t be the one to raise her.
I never told Isla that Monique hadn’t wanted to be a mother.
I never told her about the phone call or the flat honesty in Monique’s voice when she told me she was pregnant and planned to give the baby up for adoption.
I never told her how quickly I had said no, how something had locked into place inside me before fear even had time to catch up.
That baby was mine. From that second, Isla had been mine.
One day, she would be old enough to understand that love and staying were not always the same thing, and I hated that for her. I hated that there was a piece of her story that would always feel like absence, no matter how much I loved her.
“I know it’s not the same,” I said quietly.
She looked up. “Are you mad?”
“No, Bug.” I reached for her and drew her closer. “I’m not mad.”
“Because I love you,” she added.
“And I love you more than life itself.” I cradled her head in my hands and held her close.
“I just think…” She twisted the end of one braid around her finger. “Maybe you’re lonely.”
A laugh almost came out of me, but it got stuck somewhere painful.
I had been lonely for so long I didn’t always recognize it anymore.
It had become part of the furniture of my life, tucked between practices and school drop-offs and dinners with my parents and FaceTime calls from hotel rooms. I was lonely after wins.
Lonely after losses. Lonely on the nights Isla was asleep and the condo was too quiet.
I had never wanted her to feel that loneliness.
I released the hug and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Listen to me. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I know.”
“I mean it. That’s not your job.” A frown tugged at my mouth.
“I know.” Her eyes were bright, but she blinked hard, refusing to let anything fall. Stubborn little thing. “But maybe you could try.”
There it was. Everyone in my life from my mom and dad to my coach had tried to convince me to date and settle down.
After what happened with Amy, I decided to never put my heart on the line again.
Now my entire philosophy on settling down came into question with Isla standing in front of me with her camp clothes packed and her little heart on her sleeve.
Maybe you could try. Those words struck at a cord in my heart because I would do anything for her.
I kissed her forehead. “I’ll try.”
“Yesss.” She fist pumped the air.
Her grin broke through, and the ache in my chest loosened by one painful degree.
An hour later, we were at the airport, and I was not fine.
The camp had arranged group travel for the Dallas kids flying to LA.
The girls were meeting at the terminal with a counselor who would fly with them, then take them to the camp bus on the other end.
It was organized, safe, and perfectly normal. I still hated every second of it.
Isla had her backpack on and her suitcase rolling behind her, looking much too small to be walking through an airport like she owned the place.
Mila was already there with Cole, Holland, and Jaden.
She had one arm looped through Isla’s, the two girls bouncing with the kind of excitement that made it impossible for me to be openly miserable without looking like a monster.
Jaden stood beside Cole in basketball shorts and a Blaze T-shirt, his hair messy, his expression caught between boredom and concern. He had come to say goodbye to Mila before his own hockey camp started in Dallas, though he was trying very hard to look like he didn’t care.
Cole lifted his chin at Isla. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Isla said, grinning.
She was beaming. Excited. She wanted this, and I wanted her to have it all.
“No,” I mumbled at the same time.
Cole’s mouth twitched.
Holland gave me one of her gentle smiles, the kind that made me feel like she could see straight through my ribs. “She’s going to have the best time.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” I murmured.
Despite myself, I laughed.
The automatic doors slid open behind us, sending in a rush of warm air and airport noise. I turned because my nerves were already stripped raw, and then I saw her. CC hurried toward us, phone in one hand, sunglasses pushed up into her hair.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, slightly breathless. “Got caught up at the hospital, and then parking was a nightmare.”