Chapter 13
Atlas
I smooth the lapels of my suit jacket, the dark wool sharp against my white dress shirt, and glance at the neatly packed garment bag lying open on the bed.
Just a few changes of clothes and toiletries inside—nothing more needed for a two-game road trip.
I zip up the bag, the rasp cutting through the silence of the hotel room.
The equipment managers handle our gear, so all I’ve got to worry about is looking the part when I step onto the bus on the way to the enemy arena. Still, I pace the length of the hotel room like I’m forgetting something, that game-day itch prickling under my skin.
Or maybe it’s something else.
I check the clock on the nightstand—ten minutes before we’re supposed to load onto the bus. Enough time for one more call.
The last four days have blurred together, a weird blend of home and away routines.
Back in Pittsburgh, Maddie and I have stumbled our way into a rhythm—me taking Grayce so Maddie can shower, Maddie prepping bottles at night for me to use if Grayce wakes up.
I’ve taken on grocery shopping and general errands, but on game day, Maddie insists on doing that as I have to focus.
She still refuses to fully let go of many things, but I can see she’s making an effort to let me help when and where I can.
There’s been laughter too. The kind that sneaks up on you when the baby makes a funny noise or when Maddie slips in a dry, sarcastic comment I didn’t see coming.
It’s easier between us now. Ever since that night we both laid pieces of ourselves bare—her foster care past, my absentee parents—the balance has shifted. She’s not as defensive, and I’m not walking around with my guard up. It’s not effortless, but it’s… lighter.
And then there’s the road. After winning the first two games against the Eagles at home, we boarded the team plane and flew to Boston for the next two games in this playoff round. We talked about what that would look like… me being gone.
Maddie slipped into warrior mode, putting on that tough exterior and insisting I didn’t need to worry about anything because she was fully capable of taking care of Grayce. She blinked at me in utter confusion when I asked, “But who takes care of you?”
She blinked several times until she waved me off with a scoff. It was pretty cute, to be honest.
There’s no doubt Maddie has things well under control, but that hasn’t stopped me from checking in to make sure.
And also… I find myself wanting to see Grayce.
I want to hear how her day went, and by proximity, I also get to hear how Maddie’s day was too.
I’m afraid to miss a single milestone of Grayce’s, an emotional desire that seems to indicate I’ve embraced fatherhood.
Dad. Da Da. Daddy.
In fact, Grayce is on the verge of taking her first steps on her own, and I’m terrified I’ll miss it.
Maddie assured me that she’ll send video if it happens, but that’s just not good enough.
I want to be there to see it when she takes that first big move into independence, and it highlights how hard it’s going to be as a traveling dad.
The first night on the road, I texted Maddie before bed, half expecting a short, polite reply that everything was fine.
Instead, she hit the FaceTime button and I was so shocked, I wasn’t sure how to accept the video call at first. She put Grayce front and center and gave me an update on how the day was while my daughter blew spit bubbles at me.
Now, it’s become a thing. Whenever I have a moment, I check in, hoping to get a glimpse of what I left behind. I’m totally lost to that little girl. The way her tiny fist grips my finger, the way she settles when she hears my voice—it simply undoes me.
I don’t know the exact moment I accepted I was a dad for real, but I’m there now. I can’t explain it and maybe I’ll never figure it out, but I feel more whole than I did before. Maybe not fully, but mostly.
And Maddie… hell, she’s a whole other problem.
Living with her is a constant contradiction.
She’s the mother of the baby we’re raising together, but she’s also the woman who walked out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel and branded that image into my brain.
She’s beautiful, sexy, and every damn time I tell myself I don’t have the right to notice, it only gets worse.
But it isn’t just the towel memory or the curve of her smile when she finally lets it loose.
It’s the way she hums to Grayce when she thinks no one’s listening, soft and soothing enough to knock the baby out cold.
It’s how she never forgets the small stuff—packing extra wipes in the diaper bag, jotting notes on sticky pads so nothing gets missed—like she’s built to keep calamity from swallowing us whole.
And it’s the way she’s started teasing me, light and quick, like she’s daring me to give it back.
Those things… they’re more dangerous than her looks.
They make me want to lean in instead of pulling away.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, thumb hovering over the screen, then hit connect.
As if she was waiting for my call, Maddie’s face fills the screen—fresh-faced, her hair pinned back from her forehead, Grayce balanced against her shoulder. “Hey,” she huffs out, as if she were running to get the phone.
And just like that, the tension in my chest unwinds.
“Hey yourself,” I say. “How’s our girl?”
Maddie tips the phone down so I can see Grayce, who’s working a bubble of drool like it’s her life’s mission. “Say hi to your dad,” Maddie coos.
It never fails when I hear the d-word… that electric thrill.
Grayce gives a squeaky little sound that might’ve been a laugh and my heart squeezes.
“She smiled at a dog on TV earlier,” Maddie reports. “Then she spit milk all over me, which I’m sure was her way of saying thank you.”
I chuckle. “Already developing comedic timing. I’m glad to see she’s starting to model herself after me.”
Maddie rolls her eyes but her lips twitch. “Careful. If she inherits your stubborn streak too, we’re screwed.”
“Stubborn? I prefer determined.”
“Uh-huh. Tell that to the poor kitchen cabinet you slammed the other night when you couldn’t get it closed.”
I groan. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Nope,” she says cheerfully, shifting Grayce higher on her shoulder. “She’s been extra wiggly today. I think she’s realizing her legs work independently of the rest of her body. She tried to wiggle her way out of the swing earlier.”
I grin. “Love the powerhouse move. We’ll have her skating before she’s walking. Hip checking before she hits pre-K.”
Maddie gives me a look. “Here we go again. Hockey, hockey, hockey. Do you know I caught myself googling baby-size hockey gear last night?”
The laugh that rips out of me feels good, easy. “Oh yeah? Find anything?”
“Just tiny jerseys and a lot of very concerned parent forums saying things like ‘Don’t put skates on your infant.’”
“Ignore them. We’ll start her early.”
“Over my dead body,” she teases, but there’s no real bite in it.
“So… are you going to watch the game tonight?”
“I might,” she hedges with a mischievous smile. “By the way, did you know your face-off percentage is six points higher in the postseason than regular season?”
I blink, stunned. “I did, but I’m wondering why you know that stat. Are you turning into a full-on fan?”
She shrugs, grinning. “I have to keep up if I’m going to raise a hockey baby with you.”
Her words shouldn’t hit me the way they do. A punch of warmth straight to the chest. I cover it with a smirk. “Careful, Maddie. I might start thinking you like me.”
“Don’t get carried away, Karolak,” she fires back, but her eyes are dancing.
“Well, one thing’s for sure… you have to come to a game. Watching it live is an experience that will certify you as a full-fledged fan of this insanity.” I glance at the nightstand clock and sigh. “I gotta head out. Bus is loading.”
“Good luck tonight,” she says softly. “We’ll be cheering. Grayce has her game-day onesie on and everything.” She tips the phone to show the baby, who is indeed wearing a tiny Titans logo on her chest.
My throat tightens. “Perfect. Tell her I’ll score one for her.”
Maddie rolls her eyes. “You’re starting her on some unrealistic expectations. She’ll want a goal from you every game now.”
“There are worse things to aspire to.” I grin.
Maddie laughs and lifts Grayce’s tiny hand in a wave before the video goes dark.
I stare at the black screen for a beat too long before slipping the phone into my pocket, grabbing my bag, and heading down to the bus.
I climb aboard, sliding into a seat next to Kace. He tips his chin in greeting. “Why do you have that goofy look on your face?”
Didn’t realize I was wearing one and resist the urge to reach up to touch the corners of my mouth. “Just got done FaceTiming with Grayce.”
He grins. “You’re hooked. I give it another week before you’re showing us baby pictures in the locker room.”
I snort. “Don’t hold your breath.” But I can’t hide the truth. “It’s… different. I’ve only been a dad for almost two weeks and already it feels like she’s always been here. Or rather, my life will be infinitely worse if she’s not.”
Kace tilts his head, curious. “That weird you out? I mean, going from zero to instant dad overnight?”
I shrug, eyes focused out the bus window. “Weird? Yeah. Hard? Absolutely. But not in the way I expected. It’s not the bottles or the diapers—it’s realizing how much I already give a damn. That part blindsided me.”
He studies me for a beat, then grins faintly. “Sounds like she’s got her hooks in you.”
“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “She does.”
Kace’s eyes ripple with an unrealized wisdom. “I’m sure that has everything to do with Gray. She’s the piece of him that you can keep close, so you never forget him.”
“Dude,” I drawl. “That’s fucking deep.” I pause a moment. “And accurate.”
“I’m wise that way,” he quips as the bus pulls from the curb.
The city slides by as I think about what Grayce is to me and I am to her. And for Grayce, for Maddie, for whatever this is we’re building—I want to show up.