20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Well, Puckleberries, it seems our beloved local hockey hero is up to something…
and by up to something, I mean he’s been spotted in some pretty unexpected places lately!
The last time I saw Shep Landon outside the arena, he was ordering a double espresso at the corner coffee shop.
Now, he’s been spotted along the Henry River, at the home goods store, and even at Rails n’ Ales.
I’m starting to think this guy’s got a whole new social life.
What’s the scoop? A new love interest? A secret hobby?
We need to know! ~Penni’s Puckleberry Tea
Shep
I slammed a shot toward the practice net, the satisfying crack of my stick hitting the ice bringing a grin to my face.
I was on fire, baby. The slump nothing but a faded memory.
I picked up another loose puck, showed off some fancy stickhandling and bullshitted with Zacha, before skating by the goalie.
“Heads up, Mats.” I swung past him, pivoted, and sent a sweet wrist shot toward the top glove side. Mats lunged, but I beat him by a hair to hit the back of the net. “Too slow, my man. Too slow.”
Swedish curses rolled off Mats’ tongue, music to my ears. His eyes flashed murder behind that monster mask of his, and I couldn’t help myself. I leveled my stick at him from center ice. “Even gave you a warning there, bro. You getting slow? Maybe need a nap before the game tonight?”
We all crashed between practice and puck drop, but needling our star goalie never got old. Guy was solid gold in the net and took chirping like a champ.
“Or hey,” I called across the ice, “bet Novak would loan you his lucky dictionary. Work some of that Czech magic.”
“Nah.” Mats shoved his mask up, fixing me with a look that could’ve melted steel. His accent had faded over the years, but it crept back when he got fired up. “Think I’ll just borrow Merri’s Funko Pop instead.”
I dug my blade in hard, ice spraying as I pulled up short. “That right?”
The bastard took his sweet time with his water bottle, making me wait. “She likes me.”
My jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. Fresh off the longest scoring drought of my career, I couldn’t afford distractions.
Every breath needed to be about putting pucks in nets, about keeping this hot streak alive.
What little headspace I had left belonged to Hannah.
My kid had started school this week, and even with Shy’s cheat sheet of daily questions, I could tell she was struggling.
The waterpark high had faded fast, leaving me scrambling to connect. To be the dad she deserved.
But who the hell knew what went through a thirteen-year-old’s mind? I spent more time overthinking what to say than actually talking. One wrong word and my brand new daughter might write me off forever. The thought alone made my chest tight.
These thoughts flashed through my brain like little speech bubbles in a webcomic on a daily, hourly, basis.
And when they weren’t front and center? Merri.
God, Merri in that wetsuit. Should’ve been the least sexy thing ever, but on her?
Pure torture. The dull black rubber became gift wrap I was dying to peel away, inch by slow inch.
When I wasn’t replaying that moment in the video room. Her gasps against my mouth, the silk of her skin under my fingers, the way she’d trembled when we deepened the kiss…
I sucked in a sharp breath, fighting back the full-body shiver threatening to rip through me. The memory of her clung to my skin, the taste of her still ghosting over my lips.
“She likes me more,” I tossed over my shoulder to Mats before booking it to the bench. His laugh chased me down the tunnel.
My brain had decided to put any pursuit of Merri on hold. Too bad every other cell in my body staged a mutiny at the mere thought of her.
Up ahead, the hall forked, but PR had set up camp dead center, their whiteboard balanced on an easel. Melani and her cameraman hovered nearby, lying in wait. I pulled my media-ready grin into place and read the question aloud: “If I could be Barbie for a day, which Barbie would I be?”
Melani smirked as the cameraman zoomed in. I rocked back on my skates, pretending to give it serious thought. “Easy. I’d be Ken.”
“Ken’s not an option.”
I flicked my gaze to the board. Four Barbie options. None of them particularly inspiring. My skates squeaked against the floor as I shifted. “Lifeguard Barbie. Dibs on waterparks.”
Marek’s snort announced his arrival before he did. He stomped up beside me, shaking his head, and we immediately launched into an over-the-top debate about who’d make the better Ken. PR ate it up, the cameraman capturing every exaggerated gesture, every mock insult.
They’d slice and dice it into social media gold later. Right now, I was happy for the distraction.
At my stall, I stripped down methodically—jersey and practice socks in the hamper, skates and gloves lined up on the blowers.
The familiar routine usually settled my nerves, but today my fingers wouldn’t stop twitching.
I needed to come up with a plan to swipe the Pop before tonight’s game.
Back in street clothes, I grabbed my phone.
My stomach dropped. Half a dozen missed calls from Shy in the last thirty minutes, plus a handful from an unknown number. Last time my sister blew up my phone like this, she’d dropped the Hannah bomb.
I jabbed her contact, speaking the instant she picked up. “If you’ve found another kid of mine, I swear to god, Shy. This trick only works once.”
“No one’s gonna trust you with a second when you can’t even keep track of the first.”
Ice flooded my veins. My grip tightened on the phone until plastic creaked. “What?”
“The school’s been trying to reach you. Hannah’s gone. No one knows where.”
“What the hell? How—” I jammed my feet into my Converse, already moving. “How is that even possible?”
Shy sighed, the sound sad and frustrated. “No idea. You act like I have some sort of special knowledge about Hannah, but I’m just as lost as you, Shep. Maybe we should call Mom and Dad. You’re going to have to talk to them soon, anyway.”
She was right, damn it. I’d been leaning on my little sister hard, avoiding the dramatics our parents would bring. “You’re a girl. You’re closer to her age. She likes you.”
“She likes you too, Shep.”
I swallowed hard, my footsteps echoing through the concrete corridors of the practice facility.
I wanted to believe Hannah liked me. Hell, I wanted to believe I was good at this—at being her dad.
But she was the coolest kid on the planet, and she deserved more than a hockey player winging it at fatherhood. “I’m working on it, anyway.”
The exit door clicked shut behind me as Shy explained the school had contacted her when they couldn’t reach me—mystery solved on those unknown numbers blowing up my phone. “She triggered the system when she didn’t show up for class after lunch.”
“She’s not just playing hooky in the playground, I guess, huh?”
“They’ve checked the grounds. No Hannah.”
I climbed into the cab of my truck, the leather seat creaking under me. “Alright, let me call them. See what happens next.”
This felt different than her hiding in our building’s supply closet.
We’d had fun at the waterpark, and she’d lit up when more stuff for her room arrived this week.
But she’d been quiet about school. I’d figured it was normal—new place, new people.
Maybe I should’ve pushed harder, worried less about being the cool dad and more about whether she was settling in.
The school repeated what Shy told me, promising to call if Hannah showed. At what point did we involve the authorities? We needed everyone looking for my kid.
My phone rang just as I pulled into a parking lot to figure out a next step. Hannah’s name lit up the car’s in-dash display. I’d never hit accept faster. “Hannah?”
“I need a ride.” Her words came rushed, edged with a hint of defiance.
My heart hammered. I white-knuckled the steering wheel like it could ground me. “You got it. Where are you?”
“Um…” Her voice faded and I pictured her looking around, everything foreign and different from her life with her grandmother in Virginia Beach.
“How about this. What are you near? Stores, fast food, what?”
“No.”
I pressed my forehead to the back of my hands gripping the steering wheel. I had no idea what to do next. A real parent would know. A real parent wouldn’t have lost their kid on her third day of school. “What do you see? Right in front of you now, what do you see?”
“A river.”
“You walked all the way to The Henry?” The waterfront was miles from her school.
“I guess.”
I sighed, loud and long and made sure she could hear me.
“That’s a hell of a walk from your school.
” Straightening up, I restarted the ignition and turned the truck toward the water.
The Henry River cut a swath through town before heading south and eventually out to the ocean.
“Besides the water, what do you see? A park, a building?”
“A park, I guess. People riding bikes. I thought maybe there’d be a skate bowl, but I don’t see one.”
The start of an idea came to mind. “A bowl?” I asked, steering my truck toward the river. “Like an empty swimming pool? You watch skate videos?”
She snorted. “Not watch.”
The vice around my chest eased up. Her voice had found its spark again—all sass, no fear. “That’s right. You’ve got Prince Francisco.”
“At least you remember his name.” A hint of approval colored her voice. “Unlike some people.”
The road curved along the banks of The Henry, veering off to make room for a wide bike trail.
If my hunch was right, Hannah would be at the head of the trail where a coffee shop catered to bike traffic.
“Besides the parked bikes, what else is around you? You see anything that could be a coffee shop?”
“There’s a building that looks like a tube.”
I grinned and touched the gas. “Why didn’t you say that to start with? Not too many tube buildings, you know.”
“Whatever. Are you coming or not?”
“Coming. Definitely coming. Just gotta park the truck.”
I found her sitting on the railing behind a wooden bench, her feet on the slats, her backpack beside her feet. And across her lap, Prince Francisco in all his crowned, green glory.
I sucked in a deep breath, shook the tremble from my fingers, and approached. Slowly. Channeling Steve Irwin approaching a crocodile.
Ten feet out, she looked up, her gaze snapping to meet mine. “What are you doing?”
I froze mid-crouch, heat burning the tips of my ears. I straightened to my full height and bounced once on my toes. “Busted.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Cool. I think you meant cool there.”
She rolled her eyes and I sat on the bench beside her backpack.
She’d chosen a good spot, looking across the water toward a rocky outcropping on the other side.
A bike trail passed the bench and turned just ahead to cross a bike-only bridge to the other side.
Behind us, a renovated round metal building looking like a silo without the stilts served coffee and treats to the foot and bike traffic.
“I’m hungry. Could you eat?”
The lunch hour had passed at the school ages ago. In another hour, joggers and bikers would swarm the park, and I had a game to focus on. My gut churned at the thought of forcing Hannah back into that building. I rubbed my neck.
Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
The word came at me like a rejection. I scrubbed my palm over my jaw, searching for words to bridge the gap. “Mind if I grab something? I gotta eat if I’m gonna play tonight.”
“Whatever.”
My chest tightened at her tone. “Keep me company?”
She didn’t answer, but slid off the railing. I swung her backpack over my shoulder. “Let’s get something a little more than Silo Coffee, yeah?”
Her shrug followed us to the truck. The park directory caught my eye. “Did you come by this way?”
“No.”
“Makes sense you missed this, then.” I guided her to the sign and pointed to the bowl-shaped diagram. “Skate park. Opened last year—ramps, rails, everything you’d want.”
She studied the map, her expression pure Shy. Thirteen years of missed moments hung between us, but now? Now mattered more.
“Here’s the deal.” I tapped the map. “Food now. Then home. Do you have homework? That’s a thing, right? It’s a dad’s job to help with homework. Then to Shy and Prince Tiago’s place.” I lifted my hand at her look. “Weekend? We check this place out. See what Prince Francisco can do.”
A spark lit her eyes before dimming. “You skate?”
“Nah. But your old man knows a thing or two about balance. And worst case, I know how to land.” Merri’s water park takedown flashed through my mind. “Plus, I learn fast.”
Her gaze shifted from map to me and back, wheels turning.
“Fine.” She adjusted her grip on the board. “But I’m not promising to like it.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” I nodded toward the truck. “After you, your highness.”
Her eye-roll carried a hint of a smile. Small victories.
Now for tonight’s game without my lucky charm. Because approaching Merri suddenly felt more dangerous than any power play.