Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Waterfront
Claudia
I knew before it even happened that my hormonal changes during pregnancy were just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, a lead into what it would feel like after I gave birth to my beautiful little girl. But nothing could have prepared me for what is going on in the past week.
As if Kyle playing whatever game he is playing with my daughter wasn't enough, I was cutting up fruit this morning when Nalani’s boyfriend came back into the apartment, washed his hands, and turned, holding them out, asking, “Mind if I hold her?” I must have hesitated because he continued, “I've held a few in my day. I promise she'll be safe.”
It has always been very difficult for me to trust my gut, but by allowing myself to lean into theology, I have decided that gut feeling is the voice of a higher power.
As he’s holding my daughter, he says, “Hey, Savvy girl, I'm your auntie Nalani’s man, and she told me last night, your mom and Paul have been added to the list of people she considers her true family. The other two were Sofie and Noelle.”
She blinks up and furrows her brows as she grabs his hair and gives it a tug. As soon as I see a grin split across this giant of a man’s face, I feel at ease.
“Sorry, kiddo, the hair stays. Your auntie would be pretty upset if I cut it.” He grabs one of her teething rings off the counter and hands it to her.
“Back to the family. If Nalani has claimed you all, and I have claimed her as the woman I will love until all the lights go out, that means I’m claiming you, too. ”
Something about that causes my eyes to heat up. He glances at me and clearly sees it. “You have a brother?”
I’ve had a dozen, I think, but don't say. That's the thing about being a kid in this system, nothing sticks, but memories don't fade.
He looks back at Savannah and continues talking to me and to her. “You do now. Claiming doesn’t mean own. It means your problems become mine. If you need something, you call me. If a boy ever steps out of line, I will make damn sure he can’t ever do it again.”
She babbles something in response, but I feel it, the meaning, promise of sorts.
“Exactly.” He chuckles, and then, without warning, she slaps him right across the face.
I gasp, “Oh my goodness, I’m so so—”
“Nah, she’s just showing me how strong she is.” He chuckles. “Got it, Savv—”
“Can I ask that you don’t call her that?”
“Of course, you can—she’s your child.”
It's petty, and I know it. Hell, I had always planned on calling her that as a nickname, but now he has ruined that for me. “It’s just … that’s what he—”
“You never have to give me an explanation.”
“I don’t want to come off as rude.”
He winks at Savannah and responds, “Asking for what you need and expect is never rude.”
“Thank you.” I look down at the cutting board and continue because if I look up at him and see the care he is giving my daughter, old feelings begin to brew.
Clearly, I have respect for single mothers; I am one, but I remember father-daughter dances.
I remember wanting to know that just one person, one stronger than me, not my mother, I’ve been stronger than her since birth, and yes, I know that makes me sound cold, so fucking cold, but her mental health does not invalidate my feelings.
Does not take away all the times when she chose drugs or alcohol or men over her own daughter's safety.
So yes, I've got daddy issues, so does half the fucking world, and this is my soft spot, my one weakness, seeing fathers with the daughters they adore, knowing, or maybe just imagining, that he would protect her from every person who wished to do her wrong.
“I heard your mom is becoming a part of a new family—the hockey family, the Brooklyn Bears. They’re part of my family, too, and as family takes care of family, they also take care of each other.
That being said, any one of the Bears family gives you issues, you tell me, and I’ll take care of that, too. ”
“Would you like some?” I push the plated fruit across the counter.
“Actually, I have a whole routine on game day, and if I break it …” he shakes his head, and Savannah takes the opportunity to grab two fistfuls of his hair.
“Oh, my goodness, little one, no, thank you.” I gasp.
Koa? He laughs as we both try to disentangle her grabby little hands from his hair.
“What is going on out here?” comes right before a bubble of laughter bursts from Nalani.
“We’re bonding.” Koa chuckles.
Once I have my curious little critter back in my arms, he invites us to breakfast at his place.
From what I gathered, Deacon also lives at the Puck Pad; my instinct is to decline the invitation to put distance between us because when we are even in the same room, there is an energy, a chemistry, that I cannot deny.
But sadly, the attention whore in me wins this internal debate. Hey, I never said I was perfect.
Imagine my surprise when we pull into the garage of a massive estate.
Nalani laughs as she gets out of his vehicle. “I was not expecting the Puck Pad to be more of a freaking palace.”
Koa punches in the code to the door leading to the house. “Ladies first.”
“Holy shit.” Nalani laughs as she leaves the little entryway and walks to the first living room.
“This is a stunning home,” I tell him.
“It’s …” Nalani pauses as she turns and sees the wall of glass leading outside to the river. “You guys have freaking water?”
“To be fair, most places do have water,” he jokes.
She points. “Water-water.”
“How big is this place?” I ask.
“It’s nine thousand square feet.”
“The tiny bedroom I pictured him sleeping in is actually bigger than our apartment,” Nalani says to me.
“How many bedrooms?” I ask
“Nine,” he answers, and her lips tip up.
I immediately see that this is no bachelor pad; this is his home. This is where Koa wants to raise a family.
“Fuck the bedrooms. Come look at this kitchen island,” comes from that direction.
“Impressive.” I smile as we move in that direction. “Oh my gosh,” I laugh when I see Nalani sprawled out, on the massive island and she's doing snow angels?
“What on earth are you doing?” Koa ask, trying not to laugh.
“Giving you a visual to erase any others you may have from shenanigans on this island,” she says, arching an accusatory brow.
He shakes his head as he walks to the massive fridge. “I can promise you there have been no women, or even a Dash, on the island.”
“I call bullshit.” She sits up, looking around as she hangs her legs over the counter, swinging her feet.
He sets a carton of eggs and a basket of fresh vegetables beside her, takes her chin, and gives her a quick kiss. “Now, there’s been a little something.”
She smiles and slides down. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“I’ve got this. Go explore.” He nods to the carrier. “Is she asleep?”
“She is.”
“Set her car seat on the island and go explore with Nalani?”
“Will do.”
He mouths, “Thank you.”
Eyes wide, mouth parting like she’s trying to catch her breath, we start our exploration.
I can’t blame her. The place doesn’t just look expensive—it looks intentional. Every inch of it. The foyer opens into a space so big it could fit an entire team, and the sunlight coming off the Hudson pours in like it’s been waiting just for her.
“Holy shit,” Nalani finally whispers. “This is not the Puck Pad.”
“Technically, it’s a palace,” I mutter under my breath.
She laughs once, then spins slowly, taking it all in. The ceilings go up forever. The kitchen stretches across one side—massive island, double ovens, the kind of range you’d see on a cooking show. There’s a wide staircase curving up toward the second floor, glass railing catching the light.
Nalani keeps whispering, “Oh my God,” every ten seconds—like each turn is telling her that her leap of faith was an actual divine occurrence.
Upstairs, it’s more of the same—nine bedrooms, each one perfect. Guest suites, walk-ins, balconies that open to the water. Nalani drifts from one to another like she’s walking through a dream she doesn’t trust yet.
But then we reach a room that doesn’t look like it’s waiting for her touch.
This one isn’t staged. It’s lived-in, personal—careful in a way the rest of the house isn’t.
On the wall hangs one of her old sorority banners, the letters hand-painted, a little faded.
Her Hayward sweatshirt, folded neatly on a chair.
A stack of vinyl records, a framed photo from a college game, dozens of KET tees and hoodies hang in an open closet.
On the opposite side, another rack is filled with his college hockey merch.
She moves closer, fingers trembling as she traces the edge of her old banner.
Tears fill her eyes, and she turns to me, and I hug her.
“This isn’t just a house. It’s a promise.
He built this place on faith. Bought it before he even knew you were coming back to him.
Filled it with your history.” I stepped back just a tiny bit, cup her face, and wipe away her tears.
“And those bedrooms, he wants to fill them with your future.”
“Then let's put on our letters,” she sniffs.
“So, I can show him I am so fucking down.” She shakes her head, “You’re OK with this, right?
I mean, I don't want to leave you or Savannah, I just got you,” she laughs.
“I know that sounds crazy, but I really feel that way, like you’re a sister, and not in the only until we're done with college sorority kind of way. The forever kind. I honestly could not have done this without you.”
“By me, you do mean the Savannah snuggles?” I joke because I know better; she and I have a connection, too.
“That's just the bonus,” she hugs me now, and we both begin to cry.
When we get into Sofie’s waiting car, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “Nothing screams ‘I got thoroughly pucked last night’ like Nalani Kāne right freaking now.”
I give her hand a squeeze, and she gives it back.
“Oh no, you don’t get to leave us out of the loop,” Noelle says. “Sisters share.”
“He asked you to move in, and you sent a video of the KET and Hayward room. He even asked Claudia and Savannah to move in. If anyone should be pouting, it’s me.” Sofie laughs.
“Us,” Noelle corrects.
“Right.” Sofie wraps her arm around Nalani and winks at me.
“There’s more,” I sigh.
“There’s asbestos in Paul’s building, and in order to make any significant updates, Paul would need to move out for a bit, and he’s refusing to,” Nalani tells them.
“What? How do you know this?” Sofie asks.
“Yesterday, Deacon and Dash asked him if they could remodel one of the floors and showed him some sort of plan they had. Paul was all in; excited for it, actually. Deacon had an inspector look at it today while we were at the—”
“Puck Pad,” I force a joke, trying to remain the friend Nalani deserves right now, when internally I am freaking out that Deacon Moretti is hell bent on … something.
Nalani continues, “Thankfully, we were already drinking bottled water because there are concerns there, too. It’s being tested.”
“So, it’s a health concern,” Sofie huffs. “What the fuck is it that screams drink me when alpha-puckholes see a sign that says, don’t drink the water?”
“Alpha-puckholes?” Noelle laughs, and yes, the rest of us do, too.
“Tell them about your new place,” I encourage.
And she does, all the way to the arena.
The car pulls over and comes to a stop.
Sofie throws open the door and announces, “And here we are, at the puckhole capital of the world.”
“She never has a nice thing to say, does she?” comes from outside the car.
“Paul?” Nalani and I both say at the same time.
“My niceties are reserved for people who aren’t quitters,” Sofie huffs.
When we finally get visual confirmation. I see Paul is standing next to… Deacon, who’s holding his cane.
“You came!” Nalani hugs him.
“Yeah, kid, not like I had a choice.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder at Deacon. “The Italian convinced me maybe I should.”
“How? We all but begged you?” she asks.
“Italians have a thing against the Pols.”
“They literally have never had beef,” Deacon grumbles.
“You guys were on the wrong side during the last world war. I’m not stirring that shit up again, not at my age.
If I were younger, I’d have gone skate-to-skate with him, but, apparently, I’m taking the kid with the hair that’s not quite as good as mine’s room at the Puck Pad.
” He waves his hand and rolls his eyes. “Let’s get in there before someone recognizes me, and I gotta be nice. ”
“He’s staying at the Puck Pad?” Nalani asks Deacon.
“Should be a good time.” He chuckles.
Nalani looks at Claudia. “That means you’re with me.”
The entire day’s emotional overload comes out in a single tear.
“What’s wrong?” Nalani asks.
I answer honestly, “I’m so glad he’s choosing to live again.”
From behind me, I hear a whispered, “Let me know when you’re ready to become acquainted with what it feels like to be cared for and treated like a woman.”
And just like that, the noise around me blurs.
His voice is low, almost rough, the kind that hums against the back of my neck long after the words are gone.
It’s not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but my whole body reacts like it’s been struck.
That energy, that chemistry. The scent of him drifts forward—clean linen, cedar, and something darker that clings to the warmth of his skin.
When he speaks, it vibrates through me, quiet thunder under my ribs.
My knees nearly give out, my pulse syncing to his breath behind me.
The air between us feels charged, reckless, alive.
For one dizzy second, I swear I could turn around and forget the entire world exists.
He takes Savannah’s carrier from my hand. “Let me take that.”