Hockey Nanny

Chapter 1

~

Dawson

The problem with the Golden Knights’ annual charity event wasn’t the erratic scheduling, nor the event itself.

It was for a good cause, one of the few causes I didn’t mind losing a rare free morning to; teaching kids from the orphanage how to skate felt like the least we could do.

No, the real problem lay entirely with my teammates, who, despite my continuous insistence that I most certainly was not looking for love on an arbitrary Tuesday, tried their damndest to set me up with every beautiful woman who happened to look my way.

The rink was packed that day, swarming with volunteers and my own rowdy teammates, and every eager child and overwhelmed adult that made up the Harbor Kids Orphanage.

Despite the chaos of the crowded event, Boone had somehow roped me into a conversation with yet another potential love interest (or ‘future wife,’ in his words).

“Angie over here is a teaching assistant at MIT.” Boone leaned an elbow over the railing, digging the heel of his skate into the ice. He cocked his head toward me, blowing a strand of blond hair from his eye. “You like math, don’t you, Dawson?”

Angie, the latest in a long line of unfortunate, innocent bystanders, blushed from her spot just beyond the rink. “It’s not as impressive as ‘star player in the NHL.’” She tucked a curl behind her ear, eyeing me with a sheepish smile. “Your brother tells me you’re looking for a date tonight.”

“Well,” I kept up a stiff, practiced smile, but my eyes narrowed pointedly at the sly, grinning source of my problems. “Boone has a habit of running his mouth.”

Boone only shrugged as he pushed off the railing, skating backward with a sigh. “Just looking out for my Captain is all.”

I threw a scathing glare in his direction before offering Angie an apologetic bow of my head. “Truth be told, I’m a bit busy tonight. It might be the middle of summer, but it’s going to take a lot of work to get this team ready for the upcoming season.”

Behind me, Boone collided with our goalie, and they both came zipping by in a blur of motion. They landed on their asses in a tangle of laughter and blame. Angie and I winced at the same time, exchanging glances while my two confounding teammates scrambled to their feet.

Angie raised a brow, content (to my immense relief) to let me off the hook. “Seems like you’ve got your hands full. Maybe next time you’re in the area, then.”

“Yeah, definitely next time.” I lied through my teeth, flashing her an eyeful of pearly whites before skating over to Boone. I gripped my troublesome twin by the forearm, using the few inches of height I had on him to look down my nose at his deceptively innocent expression.

I kept my voice low, even though it was impossible to be heard over the chattering noise and corny pop music crackling from the overhead speakers. “Quit it, okay? I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Dawson, dude, relax.” Boone shrugged me off, skating a lazy arc behind me before flinging an arm over my shoulders. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry her. It’s just a date. When was the last time the legendary Dawson Barnett went on a date, huh?”

Exactly eight years ago, before my hockey career took off and I replaced hopeless romantic endeavors with keeping the team in check. And, more specifically, reigning in Boone’s rampant horniness before it got us all banned from most public spaces.

I dryly stated as much and ducked out from under his arm. “I’m not interested in dating.”

Boone groaned with exaggerated agitation and skated after me, keeping pace despite my very obvious attempts to get the hell away from him. “Eight years, Dawson. Those are, like, caveman numbers. Your love life is prehistoric.”

“I don’t need a love life, thank you very much.” I dodged a giggling kid, wobbling along on shaky skates, and jabbed at Boone with my elbow. “Now stop playing matchmaker and go make yourself useful. Half of these kids don’t know the first rule of falling on the ice.”

“Fine,” Boone blew out a breath before his expression softened in my periphery. “I just— I’m worried about you, dude.”

“I’m fine.” I brushed him off.

“You’re lonely.”

If my heart twisted ever so slightly at that blatant observation, that was between God and me. “Yeah, well, you’re a pain in the ass. Go figure.”

Boone delivered yet another theatrical sigh before finally peeling away.

“Alright, wallow in your celibacy if you must. I’m going to go show the ladies how great I am with kids.

” He executed a twirl more graceful than that bulky body seemed capable of, and flashed a devious smile.

“Prepare to witness ovulation en masse.”

I didn’t dignify that deplorable statement with a response, but it occurred to me that my brother might require a tighter leash before he ended up following his dick right off a cliff.

I watched him weave his way through the crowds, as comfortable on the ice as he was on solid ground, and wondered how the hell we turned out so different.

We shared the same history, the same upbringing, but where I’d walked on eggshells around our father, Boone had charged ahead with shockingly little regard for the consequences of being so brazen.

To him, the stonewalling, the disappointment, and the intense isolation meant nothing.

Water off a duck's back to one so blasé about his own personal failings.

We may have had identical DNA, but I wasn’t built that way.

I absorbed everything. Every harsh word, every insult, every slammed door, and every strict stare that told me I wasn’t good enough.

I ruminated, replayed, strategized, and obsessed.

I trained harder, pushed further, fought tooth and nail to be the version of myself someone like our father might actually approve of. Not that it did me much good.

“I see Boone’s playing Cupid again.” A flat voice reached my ears, and I turned to see Gage, our center defenseman, drifting toward me.

“So it would seem,” I slowed to let him catch up to me, eyeing the aloof brunette with a frown. “And I believe I put you in charge of keeping him off my back. What happened?”

Gage shrugged, eyeing the gaggles of skating children with unambiguous distaste. “He made a compelling argument. He said if you go one more day without getting laid, you’re going to end up marrying your hockey stick.”

I suppressed a grimace. “God, not you too.”

“He has a point,” Gage sidestepped another child who came skating past, surprisingly quick on their feet. “Remind me again, why do I have to be present for this event?”

“Raising funds for the orphanage was your idea.” I shot out an arm to catch another tottering child who came careening after the first one.

The kid was seconds from toppling over, and I helped him find his balance, setting him back on his feet. “Whoa there! Slow down, little man. That was almost a wipeout.”

He was smaller than the zippy one and significantly less skilled on the ice. He blinked up at me with wide blue eyes, a shaggy mop of ginger hair overflowing under his helmet. When the kid did nothing but stare at the two of us, Gage cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I’m gonna… leave,” he muttered abruptly, backing away like the poor kid was contagious.

Typical. Gage was an exceptional hockey player, and our best, boldest offense. Unfortunately, he was absolutely useless in any kind of social interaction.

He skated away like someone had lit a fire under his heels, and then it was just me. Me… and the kid. The same kid who was still looking up at me with a wide-eyed expression of awe that I had no idea what to do with.

I shifted awkwardly from one skate to the other. “Uh… You okay?”

He blinked back at me. “I’m Henry.”

“Hi, Henry. I’m Dawson.” I let out a nervous chuckle.

We stood there for a second, in painfully awkward silence.

Or maybe it was only painful for me. Kids didn’t seem to be all that aware of the same social cues that made life so difficult for adults, and Henry seemed perfectly content to keep up the staring contest, precariously balanced on his rental skates.

Eventually, I shook my head and crouched down so we were eye to eye. Henry shrank back shyly, breaking his level stare to look down at his feet. He couldn’t have been older than six or seven.

So young and already the world had taken so much from him.

I didn’t know what happened to his parents, whether they simply gave him up or…

worse, but I did know that he was an orphan, the same as every other kid at that event.

It seemed too heavy a title to attribute to someone so small, so innocent.

“So, Henry.” I cracked a smile that I hoped was good enough to hide everything going on in my head. “Want some skating tips so you can keep up with your friend back there?”

The kid beamed so brightly at that you’d think I’d offered him a trip to space.

He nodded and clasped a small, chilly hand around mine as I led him to a vacant corner of the rink.

The going was slow, and it took more than a few tries before Henry got the hang of moving forward while keeping his feet steadily beneath him. But he was learning.

“You’re doing great!” I inched backward, holding both his hands, and he shuffled after me with his face furrowed in intense concentration. “Keep your knees bent. Look where you wanna go, not at your toes. You’re not gonna lose them.”

Henry obediently lifted his gaze. Every time he wobbled, it was accompanied by a yelp, and I steadied him by his elbows until he righted himself again.

We practiced for a while, one slow loop after another, until Henry had gained enough confidence to release one of my hands. He hobbled along beside me, struggling to gain momentum but clearly having the time of his life if his pink face and mile-wide smile were anything to go by.

He was just getting comfortable with the repetitive motion, gingerly attempting to strike out on his own, when Boone came whizzing past with another shrieking kid tucked between his knees.

My brother was moving entirely too fast considering the crowded arena, but neither he nor the grinning child seemed to care. The little girl stuck her arms out like she was flying, and Boone zoomed across the ice. He flashed Henry a wink on his way past, and the boy looked thrilled.

“Can we do that!? Go fast?” The kid turned wide, wild eyes on me, jittering with excitement. I hesitated just long enough to consider the dangers, but Henry tacked on a “please” at the end, and I couldn’t possibly turn him down.

“Alright, come on,” I relented, gripping the tiny boy under his arms and positioning him in front of me, “But remember, keep your knees locked and your feet under you.”

Henry already had his arms out Superman-style, and he gave a brave nod as he braced himself. I made a mental note to take this up with Boone later, then pushed off.

We gained momentum quickly, surging across the ice, ducking and weaving through the clusters of wary skaters.

Henry’s thrilled cry rose to a shriek, and he waved to a few of his flabbergasted friends as we breezed by.

The sound of his laughter echoed behind us, and before I knew it, I was smiling too.

The kids' excitement was infectious, and soon we were neck-and-neck with Boone and his little buddy, all four of us skating a wide loop around the rink. When we finally slowed to a halt, Henry was flushed and breathless, rocking in his skates and chattering at the top of his lungs.

“That was amazing!”

“Yeah?” I was a little breathless myself, something I hoped a few training sessions would fix. “Glad you liked it. My knees sure didn’t.”

But maybe it wasn’t that the off-season had left me a little out of practice; something told me my heart had begun racing, and my breath sped up the moment Henry looked genuinely happy. I wasn’t unfit. I was having fun.

That suspicion was confirmed when the kid abruptly latched onto my hip, hugging me with his noodle arms and speaking words that hit me like a gut-punch, knocking the air right out of my lungs:

“You’re so cool!” Henry grinned up at me, “I wish you were my dad.”

I was stunned for a moment, but Henry didn’t seem to notice. He and the girl Boone had skated with hobbled off to join their friends, all of them yapping about how fast the two of them had been moving.

Beside me, Boone watched them go, tossing damp hair from his eyes. “That one seems to have taken a liking to you. Good job, you’re not a complete Grinch,” but his compliment fell flat when he added, “You know… Angie seems to like you too—”

“God, go choke on a hockey puck.” I rolled my eyes before my gaze travelled back to Henry. “I wish there was something more I could do for him.”

“Don’t we all,” Boone sighed, ruffling my hair the way he knew got on my nerves. “You can’t take on everyone’s problems, dude. You do way too much as is.”

I slapped his hand away, and Boone chuckled, lazily skating off.

Probably to go bother Gage, wherever the guy was hiding.

I didn’t watch him go; instead, I watched Henry, who was currently putting everything I’d taught him to good use, while also teaching the rest of his crew how to keep steady on their feet.

He was a bright kid, a sweet kid, and I meant what I said before. I wished I could somehow do more for him…

I wish you were my dad.

The idea crept in softly. I didn’t even know it was there until it had taken root. Until the answer seemed obvious.