Ten
ADAM
I drove Naomi home later that evening, after we’d cleaned up our meal and made love slowly, languidly…
as if we had all the time in the world. She was drowsing in the passenger seat by the time we pulled into our driveway.
A glass of wine and four orgasms were her current limit, apparently.
That was something to strive to improve upon in the coming days and weeks.
Much as I wanted to see if I could wring another orgasm from her, we were both exhausted from our date.
Hiring Ashley had been a brilliant move, but we still liked to get up with Felix at five, letting Ashley sleep in and get ready before we left for the day at eight.
That way, we got a good Felix fix. So far, our arrangement worked well.
In fact, everything was going great.
The issues we’d struggled with were just bumps in the road, as Owen would say. I was stoked he would join us again in January. Between now and then, we had the Wildcatters’ holiday party hosted by Coach and Paloma but held at Naese’s place down the street.
While Naese’s willingness to host a few weeks ago had surprised me, now, some of the pieces of his life had come together.
Apparently, he was trying to show his ex-girlfriend that he’d turned over a new leaf. I wasn’t sure if she’d be there tonight, but I was looking forward to meeting her.
More, though, I couldn’t wait to show off my family.
“Can you believe that at the beginning of last season, we were mostly single guys?” Cormac beamed out at the destruction that had once been Naese’s living room.
For the first time, his hockey teammates weren’t responsible for the mess spilling out from his living room.
No, this untidiness was the babies’ doing.
They were small, but as Ida Jane had quipped, toddlers were mighty.
Toys spilled from every corner, seeming to come out of the walls.
We’d filled the space with two swings, two bouncy seats, and two baby jails, also known as playpens, which took up more room than the rather large men who made up my NHL team.
Primary and pastel plastics coated everything that wasn’t adult furniture or an actual adult.
Coach glanced over at Paloma, and I heard him murmur, “I’m really thankful you had the sense to realize the baby stage of parenting was more than I could handle.”
Paloma sipped her drink, hiding her smile. “Oh, you could have handled a baby, Silas,” she said. “You’re fantastic under pressure.”
Coach shook his head. “I don’t think I want to find out. These tiny humans…you can’t logic with them.”
“And you can with Trixie?” she said with a smile.
“Sometimes…” Silas said, uncertain.
“Well, it’s the same with babies.” Paloma laughed as she eyed the group of us. “And hockey players.”
I chuckled at that one, raising my glass to Paloma. She winked as she toasted me back.
Coach’s adopted daughter Trix played peek-a-boo with Cormac’s son, which melted my heart even as Coach muttered that Trixie’s playing was as close to babyhood as he wanted to get. Brooks was freaking adorable, and I loved his neck rolls.
“I don’t like the idea of my home looking like…this,” Coach said nervously. “Even if it was a New Year’s party for babies.”
“For the families, Silas,” Paloma chastised gently.
“Not quite the drunken event you threw a year ago, is it?” I said, my voice as neutral as I could manage while the frustration and rage at my former teammate’s youthful antics—including some highly questionable hot tub activities by our then-rookie and tonight’s host, Naese—welled upward.
Cormac shot me a sardonic eyebrow lift as if to say, look at our responsible adulthood now.
I chuckled and then bit back a grin when Cormac’s infant son raised his head, which bobbled and dipped, before he let it rest back on the mat.
“That tummy time shit seems hard,” Cormac fretted. “I’m not sure Brooks can handle—”
“He’s fine. Builds strength and character,” Stolly said with a slap on Cormac’s shoulder. “Brooks will thank you for letting him work this out on his own soon enough.”
Cormac shot him an annoyed look. “Just because your kid can crawl—”
“She’s standing now,” Stolly offered. “She’s about to walk, Millie says. Ida Jane agreed.”
Cormac’s eyes narrowed to a dangerous level. “That doesn’t mean you know everything.”
Our team captain didn’t like someone else’s baby outperforming his—never mind the age difference or any other detail.
Coach and I stifled a chuckle, mine turning into a cough.
Stol caught my eye and winked. Cormac was typically unflappable, but he was also a professional athlete.
That meant he was competitive, and he didn’t like his son losing anything.
“I could tell you that you’re all in for years of humbling,” Coach said. “But I won’t. Oh, no. This is going to be fun.” He rubbed his hands together with an evil grin.
“Why?” Cormac asked.
Coach chuckled. “This front-row seat is a great way to watch the drama unfold.”
“You say that as if you haven’t had your own parenting challenges,” Paloma said.
Coach looked at her, wide-eyed, as if shocked by her betrayal of confidence, but she shrugged. “Most of these guys were here when you brought Trixie home.”
“That was years ago, and I’m a brilliant father. Right, Trix?” Trixie turned at her name to look up at her father. “I mean, I have to be because you’ve been training me—both of you.”
“You’re the best, Dadilas,” Trixie said. “I mean, how cool is it that I get to play with three babies? Who else can put something like that together?” She returned her attention to the babies who all looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Just Dadilas. Yes, he’s so cool.”
Coach’s chest puffed out with pride, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from pointing out he’d had nothing to do with the other kids here.
Giving Coach his moment was a gracious gesture.
Plus, he had to deal with the massive egos and cratering self-esteem or personal lives of a roster of hockey players.
He needed this momentary confidence booster.
“How’s Ashley working out?” Stolly asked.
“Great,” I said. “He knows a shit ton more about infants than either Naomi or me, and he enjoys shaping Felix’s schedule.”
“And Naomi?” Cormac asked.
I smiled, thinking back to the night she surprised me at Silken Whisper. “Good. Really good. Better than ever, actually.”
“That’s great, man. Happy for you.” Cormac patted me on the back before he dropped to his haunches next to his son and Trixie, having an animated conversation about some toy that didn’t sound remotely interesting right now, but that I would be all over in a matter of weeks.
Kids changed my perspective about what was interesting, what was important. Such a tiny missile into my perfectly organized life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I looked around for Naomi and found her across the room. Felix slumped against her shoulder, a tiny, seemingly boneless mass of soft baby skin and tiny breaths. Love swelled hard, hit me in the chest faster than a defenseman’s stick.
My loves, together, content.
Life really didn’t get any better.
“You look happy,” Stolly said, slapping my shoulder.
“I am. The weird part is that I didn’t realize what was missing. Naomi and I, we thought we were happy.”
“And you were, for that time, but then you bring a kid into the world and realize there’s this whole other dimension.”
“Yes,” I said. “That.”
I was glad to see the joy and ease in Stol’s expression. He’d had a hard year, not least of which was talking his now-wife back to Houston. She’d had her reasons for wanting to stay away—good ones—but Stol helped her through those.
“I definitely don’t understand everything.” Stolly’s smile slid from his face, replaced by a haunted expression. “Kids are fucking weird. Bree ate all her peas last week, cried for an hour, then vomited what looked like the gross shit from The Exorcist.”
I grimaced.
“And then she wanted to eat again. Millie thinks she’s got an issue with peas.”
“Gonna have to agree with your wife on that one,” Coach said.
Stolly faced me, his expression determined. “You should. Just like you should agree to her proposal for the Wildcatters charitable arm. She, Keelie, and Ida Jane have worked hard on it.”
“I’m aware,” Coach said. “Paloma told me.”
“Right. Your wife’s been advising.” Cormac rose to his feet and rejoined our conversation now that he’d checked in on his boy. But even as he spoke to us, he searched for his wife.
His gaze caught on Naese…just as mine had a moment before.
The young winger was in the corner, solemn and unhappy, just as he’d been for months.
Very little of his former infectious joy leaked out of him these days.
I worried about the change in him. So far, his personal issues hadn’t impacted his play, but it was only a matter of time until his unhappiness became an inability to concentrate.
“I’ll talk to him,” Coach said once he realized where our interest lay.
Cormac heaved a hefty sigh that told me he was worried about the kid, too. “Won’t do any good. He’s being awful damned close-lipped, which is amazing considering I’m pretty sure we were all aware of his every exploit during the first year he was with us.”
“That’s because he’s ashamed of the very behavior you just mentioned,” Coach murmured. He raised his hand, staving off further questions. “No, I haven’t heard all the details from Naese himself, and I won’t tell you yet, but I talked to his parents.”
“So you have more information about what’s going on with the ex?”
Coach nodded. “More, and it’s not a pretty story. I’m going to have to help him work through the fallout.”
“We all will,” Cormac said.
“It’s time for the kid to air his choices, man up to his decisions, and figure out how I could get my player to play better offense—both on and off the ice.”
I whistled. That sounded…explosive. Coach’s expression was stern, never a good sign for the player who’d put the look on his face.
“The kid has very little time left to make his move, let alone fix the mess he made when he was drafted.”
Coach gave us a nod with that extra juicy tidbit and walked over to settle on the wall next to Naese.
“This has to have something to do with the phone call at the rink the other day.”
“And him telling me that he was broken,” Stolly added.
“And him wanting to play dad earlier this year.” Cormac frowned.
We all turned our attention on to Naese, who glanced up, paled, and swallowed hard.
“Yeah, he did something epically stupid,” I said with a sigh. “I hope we can help him fix the mess he made.”
“I don’t,” Cormac said cheerfully.
“The fuck, man? You want him to mope and lose games?” I asked.
Cormac shook his head. “Like Coach said, I want Naese to man up and deal with his shit. We can support him, but he doesn’t need us to fix his mess. He needs to figure out how to do that—or make peace with it.”
“Because he’s got to live with the result,” Stolly said. “Yeah, I get that. Poor bastard.” Stolly sighed. “I’m going to kiss my wife and snuggle my baby girl.”
We watched him walk away.
“Definitely different from last year’s party.”
Cormac laughed. “Not a bad thing.”
I looked around, enjoying the cheerful faces of most—not Naese—of the people in the room. We were a family. A strange one built on shared passions, work, and, well, simply being together so much. But we’d forged deep bonds, not just with our spouses, but with each other.
And it showed. Definitely within our organization, but also to the rest of the hockey league. We were stronger because we were committed to each other, whether as a player or a coach.
That’s why I knew we’d continue to win games and, eventually, bring home the Cup. That’s why I recognized Naese would sort out his shit.
And that’s why I was sure Naomi and I would be okay. We had the best support system we could ever hope for. Our friends had rallied around us, supported us when we were flailing.
We were fucking lucky. And I loved every single minute of our wild ride.
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