Chapter 5
TATE
Bea and I are on the balcony, watching for shooting stars, when she turns and looks at me, her little nose going pink in the cold.
“Dad?”
I push away thoughts of an antisocial bartender with indigo eyes. “Yes, sweetheart.”
Is Jordan going to talk to her dad? I don’t know what else to do. If Ross wants to sell the team, there’s nothing that can be done.
He might listen to her, though.
A worried frown pulls over Bea’s young features. “Are you going to die alone?”
My daughter suddenly has my full attention. “No?”
She looks out at the dark sky, still frowning. “Oh.”
I don’t even—what? “Why do you ask?”
“I heard Mom telling Jeff you’re going to die alone.”
I smile, holding back a sigh. Holly and her husband, Jeff, are deeply in love and believe everyone else should be, too, even those of us who don’t have the time or energy for dating.
“I won’t let you die alone, Dad.” She gives me a worried look. “I’ll be with you. I’ll hold your hand as you stop breathing.”
This is getting morbid. “Bee, I’m not going to die alone.”
Based on how nonexistent my dating life has been since Bea entered the picture, yes, I will probably die alone.
Her mouth twists to the side. “But you don’t have anyone.”
“I have you, I have the hockey team.” I give her a reassuring smile. “Lots of people are very happy without a romantic relationship. And I’d rather spend my free time with you.”
With my demanding, travel-heavy schedule during the hockey season, I already carry enough guilt about not being around for Bea. These are formative years for her, and I can’t afford to give away any more of my time.
If the team changes owners, though, I might have a lot more time on my hands.
“What constellations can you see?” I ask her, changing the subject.
She shrugs.
“Do you see the Big Dipper?” I prompt.
“That one’s easy.”
I chuckle. “Do you have any birthday parties coming up for kids at school?”
Bea doesn’t have a ton of friends, something Holly and Jeff and I have discussed with concern. She spends a lot of time alone, reading.
She makes a noncommittal noise. “No.” A pause. “If you got a girlfriend, would she be nice?”
My distraction didn’t work. “Sweetheart, I’m not getting a girlfriend anytime soon.”
“But would she be nice?”
Jordan Hathaway flashes into my head, aloof expression and sharp tongue. Every time I think about her unrolling the toilet paper for my autograph, I feel like laughing. Regardless, she’s the type of person I would never bring home to Bea.
“Of course she would be nice. I would never be with someone who isn’t nice.”
What would it be like, to have someone to share my life with? To have a third person around when I’m with Bea? I can’t even imagine.
Besides, I’m not going to take the risk of Bea getting attached to someone and their breaking her heart. I watched my father do that to Mom and Noah again and again, and I would die before I let someone hurt Bea.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asks.
Good, so we’re still on this topic.
“I love you,” I tell her and she makes a face. “Does that count?”
“No,” she says with a flat tone, and I turn away so she doesn’t see me laugh.
“Do you have a crush on someone at school, Bee?”
“This is about you,” she says with raised eyebrows, and now I really am smiling. “And no, I don’t. Mom says you never do anything for yourself.”
My smile fades. I’m busy, sure. But I have an amazing daughter, the career of my dreams, a beautiful house in the woods, and enough money to take care of Bea for the rest of her life. I don’t need anything or anyone else.
Again, my thoughts stray to what Ross told me. To my conversation with Jordan. If the Storm is picked apart by a new owner, it’s going to leave a massive hole in my life.
“I do lots of things for myself,” I tell Bea. “I go to the gym every morning. I eat pizza with you on Friday nights when we don’t have a game. I . . .” I can’t think of anything else. “I eat your Halloween candy when you’re not watching.”
“That’s mine,” she says, grinning.
I drop my arm around her shoulder, pulling her against me. “You need to learn to share, Bee. And candy is bad for your teeth. Better let me eat it all.”
She giggles. “No.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I have the world’s smartest, funniest, kindest, most wonderful daughter.
I love coaching hockey. I love my team. I have everything I need.
” I smile at her, my heart squeezing at how adorable she is, all big eyes, pink nose and cheeks, and dark hair sticking out from under her knit hat.
“I love you more than anything in the world, and I am very, very happy. Okay?”
She nods, seemingly satisfied. “Okay.”
“Okay. What do you want for dinner? Pizza?”
“We had that last night.”
“How about we have candy for dinner and pizza for dessert?”
She giggles again. “That’s backwards.”
We watch the sky until Bea gets hungry, and as we head inside, I spot a shooting star.
I don’t make a wish, though. All I need is right here.