Chapter 1
FORD
Don’t look at her fingers. I’ll regret it if I do.
First, I will admire the way Brielle swipes a few strands of her silky brown hair away from her cheek, and then I will follow the line of her jaw until I stare at her soft lips that always curve in a soft smile when she talks about Connor, our son.
And finally, the pièce de résistance, her hands.
And it’s why I’m going to regret locking my gaze on her fingers, because there is something missing from her ring finger, and it’s all my fault.
Man, I know I’m torturing myself.
I look.
I get lost for a second—okay, maybe two.
“Mr. Spears, wouldn’t you agree?” A lady’s voice breaks my turmoil.
Blinking my eyes a few times, I look forward and see my son’s soon-to-be-retired teacher smiling at me from the other side of the table for our end-of-year parent-teacher meeting.
I only glance for a second, as my sight whips back in Brielle’s direction, where she’s sitting beside me.
Brielle Dawson or Elle to me, mother of my child, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and the only one I’ve seen a future with.
But the chance was ripped away from us ten years ago because of a promise.
“Ford, are you okay?” Brielle double-checks with me; her blue eyes have a curious glint in them.
I clear my throat, remembering what we were talking about. “Of course, we’ll make sure he keeps reading over the summer.”
“I know Connor is excited for hockey camp, and I hope he enjoys it, but it’s important he arrives to the fifth grade ready. It’s his last year before middle school,” Mrs. Clark reminds me.
Brielle gently touches my arm. “We will be sure to get the books on the summer reading list,” she assures the teacher.
Mrs. Clark brings her hands together. “Wonderful. I just wanted to say that, despite his little outburst recently, he is a sweet boy, and I will miss him.”
My jaw tightens about the reminder of a few weeks ago when he had an argument with a classmate. Glancing to Brielle, I see her strained look.
“You two should be proud of him, and if I may say so, be proud of yourselves too,” Mrs. Clark adds.
“How so?” I wonder.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had these meetings go south when the parents are separated, and their child has issues in class because of their parents’ behavior toward each other.”
Brielle taps her nails on the table and throws on a tight smile. “That’s not us.” She takes a deep breath. “We only want the best for Connor.”
Fuck me, how is it years later, and I still hear the sadness drenched in that sentence?
“Thank you for the compliment.” I awkwardly attempt to stay calm. “If Connor hasn’t said anything at school, then I guess we’re doing a good job.”
The teacher’s smile falters slightly. “If I may be frank…”
“Please.” My tone is clipped.
“He’s all smiles when he talks about you both. Not many kids can say they have a famous hockey star as their dad. But sometimes he mentions that you both live in two different worlds and only ever come together at set times, and he knows it’s because of him.”
Brielle’s breath cuts short, and she looks off into the distance out the window.
I swipe a hand through my hair that’s still short from hockey season. “Kids are intuitive, aren’t they?” I say in a flat tone, not so amused.
Mrs. Clark laughs awkwardly. “They are. Well…” She glances between us. “That’s everything. I wish you both a great summer.”
Brielle offers a polite smile. “You too, and thank you for ensuring Connor had a great school year.”
We all stand and say our goodbyes.
Brielle and I take the longest walk in silence out of the school and to our cars that are side by side in the parking lot. I know something is weighing heavy on her mind because my own thoughts feel like a brick too.
We both hit the unlock buttons on our key fobs, yet neither one of us makes a move to climb in the driver’s side. Instead, we face one another, with the late-afternoon sun on full blast.
Our eyes lock and so begins our usual lingering gaze.
It happens every damn time.
Every drop-off, pick-up, birthday party, meals we have together as a family for Connor’s sake, every time she brought Connor to my games to watch, and I would catch her staring as I glided by on the ice.
It’s all a fucking simmer that never boils over.
“That went well,” she notes and nibbles her bottom lip.
I throw my sunglasses on because I need protection from staring at her blue floral-print summer dress with an annoying button loose at the top. The dress deserves to be hanging off the edge of my bed because it was thrown off in a moment of clarity.
“It always does. Parenting we’re good at.”
She snorts a cute little laugh. “I would say we aren’t that bad. She had to bring up the other week, didn’t she?”
A sound escapes my mouth as I debate if I can tease her about this or not. “It will go down as memorable.”
Her hand finds her hip. “Easy for you to say, you were the one who had to deliver the news to me.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I was put in an awkward position, thanks. Not easy for either one of us.”
“Connor asked you to deliver the news that I’m no longer allowed to write notes in his lunch.”
“Elle, he’s getting a little old for that, and when someone bothered him at school about it, then yeah, he thought it would be better if I talked to you to deliver the message of no more notes.
Along with the need to no longer pre-slice his apples.
Trust me, I feared that conversation with you all day. ” I can’t control my smile at this.
She throws on a fake pout that is too fucking adorable. “I can’t handle him growing so fast.” We’re still young ourselves.
“Kids tend to grow up. If you’re missing having a baby, then I can volunteer my services again,” I joke, but the humor hits a little too close to home.
Her smile stills, unsure even, and it’s a good few seconds before her tone turns serious. “Should we be worried about what Mrs. Clark mentioned about the set-time-togetherness thing?” She whirls her fingers in the air.
My head lolls to the side. “Maybe.”
“I guess we should have a look at the schedule again since you’ll no longer have games.”
Ouch, that reminder.
The season that just ended was my last as a professional hockey player as the center and captain of the Chicago Spinners, thanks to age and one injury too many. Nothing major, but I don’t recover the way I did ten years ago when I was twenty. I feel a shade of pain spread on my face.
And she knows me so well, as she studies me with a knowing wry smile. “Going to miss it, huh?”
I shrug a shoulder. “It was my life for so long, but yeah, I’m good. I have a plan B, been planning it for a few seasons now.”
“Right, the new sports training facility near Lake Spark.”
I chuckle to myself at the way she says Lake Spark, as if it’s a mystical place that she fears in a funny kind of way.
During hockey season, I was on the road and stayed at hotels in the city.
In my downtime, I escaped to Lake Spark in upstate Illinois.
The place I remember from my childhood, through summers as a teenager with a particular brunette, and now it’s the place where I fully intend to make a life post-hockey career.
Brielle lives in Hollows, a perfect middle point between Chicago and Lake Spark. She’s always had Connor for most of the year, since I had training and game seasons.
“I enjoy it there. You still need to see my house again now that it’s finally finished, and you can see if you approve of Connor’s room. The interior designer did a good job, I think.”
She waves a hand at me. “When it comes to our son, then you know I trust you.”
“Still, you can’t avoid Lake Spark.” I reach out to touch her shoulder, to both comfort her and grab an opportunity to touch her skin because I know she’ll tolerate it.
She tilts her head to the side and allows her cheek to nuzzle into my wrist near her shoulder.
It’s a throwback to a time when we could have had everything.
Through the years she occasionally does this, reminding me of the trust we have with one another, the connection we will always share, and the reminder that a different ending floats in our minds.
“I’m not avoiding Lake Spark. I’m just debating what to remember.” Her voice is delicate.
I step closer to her, and I move my hand to her cheek to brush my thumb along the stretch of soft skin on her cheekbone. “Everything,” I say huskily.
Something must strike in her mind because she attacks her bottom lip, and she steps back. “So, uhm, I guess you have Connor for the first few weeks of summer vacation, and I know he’ll enjoy hockey camp one of those weeks.” She is changing the subject.
Her avoidance of topics causes me to smirk. “Yeah, we’ll be fine, like always. Are you ready?”
“Studying for the Bar exam is a job in itself. I’m lucky I could give up my part-time paralegal job. Thanks for changing the schedule so I have some alone time to study.”
A proud smile takes over me. She’s been waiting for this. College took longer because Connor was a surprise, then she had LSATs and law school. It was the plan and dream she always wanted, and now it’s within her grasp.
“You’ll nail it. And you take all the time you need…” I remember she mentioned Illinois only has the exam twice a year. I want her to succeed, which is probably why it spits out of my mouth. “I’ve got Connor covered and can bump up child support if you need.”
The moment it slips off my lips, she raises a brow at me and gives me a stern look.
But she isn’t mad. She shakes her head at me, entertained.
“We’re fine.” Her pride is strong, or rather, she will never ask for more because I know she appreciates the generous child support I give; it’s to cover her needs too.
She reaches out to gently shove my shoulder.
“Look at you, Mr. Big Shot Retired Hockey Star with millions.”
“If only I had it all,” I say it in jest, but the truth is underlying.