30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
The Renegades are once again facing a familiar challenge: Off-ice distractions threatening to derail their season.
Last year, it was concussions and undocumented DUIs.
This year, it seems the team’s top scorer has found himself entangled in a personal matter that’s generating buzz and raising eyebrows.
The question is: will Landon be able to keep his focus on the ice and provide the offense the team needs to earn a victory?
Or will off-ice drama once again overshadow the team’s performance?
The Renegades need to prove they can handle the pressure, both on and off the ice, if they want to make a serious run for the Stanley Cup. ~Renegades Rinkside
Merri
I fell asleep last night thinking about salted caramel hot chocolate from the corner coffee shop outside the arena. The one Shep stopped by ahead of every home game.
Not that I wanted to go because of Shep. I’d successfully dodged him all day. Having arrived at the Algonquian an hour before the team and sequestered myself in the video room the instant I arrived, I’d continued my Avoid Shep success. Did I dare push my luck with a run down to the coffee shop?
I’d begged off the celebratory shenanigans after the escape room triumph, darting to my car and making good work of my own escape.
Shep’s words, as seemingly out of the blue and random as they were, had burrowed deep and taken root, torturing me with a whole new world of possibilities.
Because I believed him.
If I had to suffer through a game and my tumultuous thoughts without Joonie, I deserved an amazing hot chocolate.
The coffee shop’s hot chocolate tasted exactly like my mom’s when she made it on the stove as a child.
It brought to mind the times I’d stand at her side in our narrow galley kitchen and she’d pour in the condensed milk and chocolate chips and caramel sauce into a small saucepan.
We’d sit at the table and wait for it to cool enough to sip, giggling over marshmallows and caramel drizzles.
So simple, but more delicious than any hot chocolate I’d had since.
The perfect comfort drink and I desperately needed the comfort right now.
I’d left Joonie sitting conspicuously on the top shelf of his locker when I arrived at the arena today. I deserved a cup of amazing hot chocolate as compensation, surely.
Or distraction. Because every part of me wanted to fixate on the words Shep spoke yesterday as we left the escape room. On the feel of his kiss. Of the way my heart spun up and out of my chest, light and carefree and loved.
But then reality hit, apprehension casting its insidious shadow, twisting a knot in my stomach. Shep had me rethinking all the decisions I’d thought I’d already cemented in my head. If I saw him now, if he tossed me one of his Aw Shucks smiles, I’d cave.
So I’d slipped out of the practice facility like a top tier escape artist, tossing guilty looks over my shoulder until I made it to my car and safely up into the perch at the arena without running into Shep.
Shep, who loved me and wanted to make a future with me.
Shep, who made a career out of playing games and having a good time, but wanted a serious relationship. With me.
Shep, who was learning how to get along with his new daughter and had playoffs around the corner.
My heart pounded and my fingers trembled as his words echoed in my mind: “I’m in love with you, Merri Wylie. We can make this happen. Help me make us happen.”
Help him? What did he expect? Was I supposed to just walk away from my career?
Give up the idea of working at the national level?
Or did he think we could make a long distance thing work?
I should go work for some other team and see him whenever two insanely busy schedules allowed? A few weeks every summer?
That sounded about as appealing as month-old guacamole.
And what about his daughter? Did I even want to consider getting involved with a single dad?
Step into some sort of ready-made family?
I’d thought of kids with a sort of “sometime in the future” nebulous idea.
Maybe. Not now. And definitely not starting with a teenager.
Every horror story I’d ever heard played out in hyperspeed in my mind.
Every movie about the evil stepmom. I didn’t want to be an evil stepmom!
I didn’t even know for sure if I wanted to be a mom!
I kept sneaking Joonie into Shep’s locker for good luck, but that was as close to commitment as I wanted to get today. Today, I had a game to work, a team to beat, and a perfect salted caramel hot chocolate was essential to success.
A quick check of my monitors confirmed everything was set for the afternoon game. Shep should have made his coffee run by now, clearing my path for a chocolate fix.
I tiptoed past the player area like a cat burglar and slipped out the side exit. The sidewalk bustled with pre-game energy—kids in jerseys, parents herding excited fans toward the main entrance, the coffee shop’s door swinging open and closed in a constant dance.
A teenage girl caught my eye, flashing a bright smile before lifting her phone. The camera pointed straight at me. Heat crawled up my neck as understanding dawned. The social media posts Melani mentioned, the ones tracking my game day outfits. People actually followed those? Me?
I smoothed my yellow dress, suddenly hyperaware of every ruffle. Celebrity by association seemed a stretch, but apparently working for the Renegades meant even the video coach drew attention. That was...terrifying.
“Merri!”
I whirled at the shout and spotted Shiloh Landon hurrying across the intersection with Hannah in tow.
“Shy! You guys catching the game?” Stupid question, Meredith. Why else would they be hanging out in front of the arena?
She grinned. “Hannah’s never actually seen a live NHL game, so we decided to make a day of it.”
My stomach feeling like I was inching up the tallest, scariest ramp of a monster roller coaster, I smiled down at the teen. “Do you like hockey?”
“Undecided.”
I snorted out a surprised laugh. “You’re dad’s making you come today, isn’t he?”
Her eyes widened. Hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief and identical to her aunt’s. “He promised we could go to the skate park if I came.”
Shy bumped her shoulder. “And derby. Don’t forget the roller derby.”
I rocked back on my heels, my gaze skipping between them. “Are you into roller derby?”
She pursed her lips, but I had the feeling she was biting back a smile. “Maybe.”
Shy knocked her hip against Hannah’s. The action must be a family trait. Shep had used it on me more than once, too. “Hannah is way into derby. She’s going to be playing with the Littles, the Killbillies’ junior team.”
“Do you have a derby name yet?”
Hannah shook her head and with the way her eyes sparkled, she confirmed the reluctance was all for show.
“According to Novy, Littles don’t select their derby names for a while. Sometimes not until they move up into the big league. So for now, Hannah is just Banana.”
Hannah gasped and this time she was the one doing the knocking. “I am not Banana, Aunt Shy. Don’t be lame.” Hannah looked up at me. “She thinks she’s being funny. Why every adult on the planet thinks Hannah Banana is funny, I have no idea.”
“Rude, Hannah,” Shy said around a giggle. “I only recently graduated college. I’m resisting actual adulthood as long as possible.”
“Stay strong,” I said with a grimace. “It gets ugly out here.”
“Hey, Merri.” Shy’s voice turned sly. “Why don’t you come with us later? Hannah will be with the Littles and I’ll be sitting around watching. Take pity and keep me company.”
I wanted to say yes. The desire, almost visceral in intensity, stole my breath. I’d avoided Shep all day only to fall in with his sister and daughter?
The “yes” caught in my throat. One word that could change everything. My brain screamed “danger” while my heart whispered “Family.”
Wait. Family? Since when did I start thinking about Shep’s family as something I wanted to be part of?
I fiddled with the collar of my dress, casting my gaze to the people that hustled around us, the arena entrance, to anything except the pair in front of me.
“I like your dress. I like the blue and yellow checkered one better, though.”
My attention snapped to Hannah. I’d worn the checkered dress ages ago. “You saw that one?”
“On my FYP.”
Oh, right. The socials. The account Melani mentioned. Serving up the players’ arrivals and my fashion choices, too. “I heard there’s an account that posts the team’s arrival pics.”
Shy darted a look between us. “What’s this?”
Heat burned in my cheeks. “Someone’s been posting my outfits on game days along with the players in their suits.”
Shy’s mouth dropped. “Really? Is that cool or is that a total invasion?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure how I feel about it, actually. Kinda weird to think about some stranger snapping a pic, but then, it also makes me feel like one of the guys, too, so…” Another shrug.
“All the teams do it,” Hannah said. “Some coaches. But definitely the players. It’s how Grams found Dad.”
Shy straightened. “Really? I thought it was the playoffs last year? She saw his name and realized Shepherd was a first name?”
“Yeah, but then she had to see him.”
“Shep told me about your Grams,” I suddenly blurted. “I’m sorry y’all are going through that.”
Hannah’s smile dipped and I could have kicked myself. Stupid, Merri. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “She’s gonna be fine.”
I nodded. Sought Hannah’s eyes and held them. “My mom got really sick when I was in college. It’s scary.”
Hannah dropped her gaze to the cell she held.
“It’s scary,” I repeated, my voice catching.
Hannah twisted a little frog prince dangling from her cell, her thumb rubbing the charm in a way that had my heart clenching and recognition burning in my chest. My gaze flicked to Shy before returning to Hannah.
“But it sounds like your Grams is tough. And she’s got you, right? ”
Hannah nodded, a tiny movement, as if anything more would require too much effort. “Yeah,” she said in a low tone. “She’s pretty tough.”
“Figured. Is she the one who taught you to use a skateboard?”
A hint of a smile toyed at the corners of her mouth. “Nah, she doesn’t skate. She rides a bike.”
“No way! She a Harley chick?”
Hannah grinned full out then, her hands falling to her sides. “Not that kind of bike. A regular bike. We used to go along the boardwalk. I could keep up with her on my skateboard. Beat her, sometimes.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The sound bubbled up despite the knot of anxiety still tangling up all my emotions.
“Gotcha. My mom was more of a bookworm, but she could make the best hot chocolate. I love chocolate, by the way. She’d make a cup of hot chocolate and I’d sit at the table doing homework and she’d bake these amazing toffee cookies.
She’d let me have one—” I leaned close like I was sharing a secret, “—or even more than one, if I did my homework without giving her a hassle about it. I used to give her a hassle pretty much every day.”
Shy shifted and I let my smile spread to her. She gave me a wink and the tangle in my chest eased. “I can’t see that about you, Merri,” Shy said. “You look like you’d be a good student.”
“I was! I was just vocal about it!”
I laughed with them, the memories of my mother coming soft and sweet and without the usual sting.
“Those cookies must have been pretty good.” Shy slanted a look down at her niece. “Maybe we could have a baking day when Grams is feeling better. You, me and Merri can make up a batch and drive ‘em out to her.”
The idea of a baking day, of sharing a piece of my childhood with Hannah and Shy, warmed a place in my heart I hadn’t realized had grown so cold. Family.
I’d spent the years missing my mother, but it hit me then. I missed what she gave me, too. The sense of belonging, of having my own people.
I studied Shy, her expression open and hopeful, then traced over Hannah’s face, who wore a tiny smile, but looked no less hopeful. Identical expressions between the aunt and her niece and I couldn’t hold back.
“I’d like that,” I said, the words escaping before I could overthink them.
“Awesome!” Shy clapped her hands together and for a second, she looked nearly as young as Hannah. “It’s settled,” she said. “But for now, let’s go watch some hockey. You know your dad’s gonna be looking for you behind the bench.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Can we sit on the other side of the arena?”
“With the enemy? Not if you want that shopping trip later today. Shep can hold a mean grudge.” Shy turned to me. “Can you walk in with us? Or do you have to go in through some super secret door?”
“Actually,” I said. “I have to hit the coffee shop and get a cup of hot chocolate. It’s why I came out the super secret door in the first place.”
“We’ve got to go find our seats and get some nachos from concessions. I’ll give you a call after the game so we can meet up for derby?”
We exchanged numbers, the allure of Shy’s friendliness and the curiosity in Hannah’s eyes battling with the apprehension that tightened like a band around my chest. Images of Shep on the ice, his power and agility, his mischievous grin, the stark determination in his eyes when he asked me to help him make us work.
Each vision layered on top of the other, putting a tremble into my fingers.
But was the tremble excitement at the potential or terror at the possibilities?
As I made my way across the plaza and into the coffee shop, a million thoughts hit me.
What would my mother say? I didn’t often wonder what she’d think or say.
I just knew, like I knew the back of my hand or the color of my eyes.
But this situation pushed me so far out of my comfort zone, I had no idea what her take on it might have been.
I froze just as I moved to pick up the hot chocolate. Lies. I knew exactly what my mother would say. She’d say stuff the rules, stuff the possibilities of failure and go for it. What was our going away road trip if not a fuck you to cancer and a determination to live—and die—on her own terms?
I snatched my chocolate from the counter and spun on my heel. My skirts swished noisily around my knees and the sound instantly triggered an image of Shep to light up in my mind.
Guess the question was, did I trust his feelings? What he said? And maybe more importantly, did I trust myself to risk another loss and give love a try?