Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Hunter: Are you sure it’s okay if I come to Jace’s birthday party?
Natalie: He would be crushed if you didn’t! It’s all he’s talked about this week.
We won both our home games against North Dakota and rose a little in the standings. Natalie was professional and friendly to me. Not distant but not…well, she didn’t treat me any differently than the other guys.
And why would she? We’re friends. She works for the team. That’s how it has to be.
Putting the Beemer into drive, I pull out of the parking lot and head to her house. I haven’t touched the radio dial since Natalie messed with it last weekend, and Journey blasts out, encouraging me to “Don’t Stop Believing.” It’s dumb, but I smile. Natalie would love my radio pick is still blasting peppy and encouraging music, even when she’s not here.
I can’t stop thinking about her. That kiss was the best of my life, and it only lasted a few seconds. But I’ve re-lived it a million times since—in the shower, in my bed, in the locker room.
But where do I go from here? I’ll admit, I’m used to girls throwing themselves at my feet. Based on the way she kissed me back and the sexy little noises she made, I’m pretty sure she was into it. But she’s not some girl I met in a bar for a hookup. I’m going to her nephew’s birthday party today, for crying out loud. This is so far off my normal playbook, I don’t know what comes next.
Pulling up to her house, I take a deep breath and grab the massive gift bag off the passenger seat. It’s filled with hockey stuff—signed pucks, photos, jerseys. The things people have always wanted from me.
When I was ten, a kid on my pee-wee hockey team befriended me. I was pretty lonely at that point in time—my dad traveled a lot, and Hadley was only around in the summer when my dad had custody. It was just me and my nanny, mostly. So when Dylan started talking to me, wanting to hang out and stuff, I was thrilled. I finally had a best friend.
I didn’t know enough about friends to realize he was spending time with me to get closer to my dad. He’d only want to come over if my dad was home, he started asking me for signed merchandise, and it pissed him off when I got him a Super Soaker for his birthday instead of a jersey.It was my nanny, Mrs. McPherson, who finally explained it to me. She was right. When I stopped inviting Dylan over, the only thing he wanted was more stuff.
It’s not the same situation, I know that. But I might as well give Jace what he really wants. I grip the handles of the gift bag as I ring the doorbell.
A lady I assume to be Natalie’s mom throws the door open. I have an impression of gray hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a beaming smile. Before I know what’s happening, she has me inside, smooshed to her short frame in a motherly hug.
I don’t have a lot of experience with moms. I don’t remember anything about my own. Marissa, Hadley’s mom, is the closest I’ve got, and they moved out when I was nine. Then Mrs. Mac, as I called her, stayed with me when my dad traveled. She was efficient and kind but not demonstrative.
So I don’t know if this is normal mom behavior or not. But I haven’t had a hug this comforting in a long time.
Then I’m surrounded by Natalie’s sister, Sarah, and Jace. He throws his arms around my legs and gazes up into my face, his smile like sunshine. He’s seriously so cute.
I ruffle his hair as he tugs me farther into the house. He chatters at me a mile a minute, so fast I can barely process his words. I catch something about Star Wars, cake, and a Transformer one of his friends has—I think.
“Give him a moment to breathe.” An older man in a recliner laughs at Jace from the living room. “At least show him where to put his gift.”
“Okay, Papi!” Without pausing, Jace pulls me into the kitchen and points to a modest collection of gift bags on the counter. I count three other presents, and a sneaking suspicion dawns on me.
“Hey, Jace.” Bending down, I get on his eye level. “Did you invite any friends to this party?”
“Nope! Just you!”
“Other family? Cousins, aunts and uncles?”
“Yeah! Aunt Nattie is here!”
With that, he runs off and I straighten. I assumed lots of people would be here, like those massive, lavish parties I attended as a kid, and I’d blend in. But now I realize—I’m the only guest.
“Hey.” Natalie stands in the entryway, beaming at me, and my anxiety recedes a bit. “Sorry about that. He’s really excited.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and rock on the balls of my feet. “I get it. Birthdays are the best when you’re a kid.”
“Wanna come meet my dad?” she asks, jerking her chin towards the living room, and I nod and follow.
“Dad, this is my friend—also Jace’s friend—Hunter. He plays hockey at Harrison.” The man in the recliner doesn’t get up but holds his hand out to shake. I return his grip.
If I’m being honest, he looks older than I expected. Much older than my dad. With white hair, his tan skin has a sallow cast, and his hands feel papery thin. But his eyes twinkle over his glasses.
“Hockey, huh?” he asks. “I’m more of a baseball fan, myself. What do you like about hockey?”
The question surprises me—more for what he’s not asking than what he is. He’s not asking what it’s like to have a dad who’s a famous hockey star. He’s not asking what my prospects are, or why I haven’t signed an NHL contract yet. His question is innocent, and the way he trains his gaze on me makes me feel like he wants my answer.
“It’s exciting.” I shrug, like this confession is embarrassing. “The fast pace, the high level of skill it requires. I’m forced to rise to the challenge, and that’s good for me.”
It’s all I’ve got, I don’t say.
“And are you good at it?”
“Dad.” Natalie drags the word out and rolls her eyes. “Hunter is the captain of the team, and they won the National Championship last year, remember? Of course he’s good. He’s the best, actually.”
My eyes fly to hers. Does she mean that? Her cheeks redden under my gaze, and she glances out the windows.
“This job is good for you, Nat.” Her dad’s voice is affectionate. “It’s nice to see you take so much pride in what you do.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Daddy. When was the last time I called my dad that? I can’t remember if I’ve ever said it. We don’t have that kind of relationship, never have. Hockey is all we have in common, and even that’s fraught these days.
“Hunter!” Jace bounds back into the room, gripping his stuffed weasel in one hand. “Do you want to play cars with me?”
A timer goes off in the kitchen, and Natalie’s mom pops her head in. “I think that means lunch is ready. We’ll give Sarah a second to take the pizzas out and get Papi to the table.”
With that, Natalie and her mom each grab one of her dad’s hands and help propel him out of his recliner. It’s obviously a practiced move, smooth and fluid, and I don’t think to offer to help until after he’s up and shuffling to the table.
Everyone squeezes in at a scarred round wooden table, and I’m placed between Natalie and Jace on a chair that doesn’t match the rest. Her mom makes everyone hold hands while she says grace, and then Sarah hops up and serves the pizzas.
The conversation washes over me, and I’m thankful I don’t have to contribute much. My dad’s house in Boston has a dining room, complete with a massive twenty-four-person table. It’s formal, stuffy, and we never use it. He and I rarely eat together because of his schedule. I scarf my meals at the kitchen counter when I’m home. This family scene is unfamiliar territory for me.
I take a bite of the pizza and hold back a moan as the flavors explode on my tongue. The sauce tastes fresh and garlicky; the cheese is extra gooey, and the crust is the perfect consistency with a touch of sweetness.
“Oh, wow,” I say, swallowing my mouthful. “Where did you order this from? It has to be the best pizza in Lafayette.”
Sarah, who looks like Natalie but with short hair, laughs. “Are you kidding? I made it.”
“You made it?”
She nods and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love cooking, and I’ve been perfecting this recipe for years.”
“Well, I think you’ve got a winner. You should open a restaurant.”
She beams, then offers me another slice. I watch what I eat to stay in top shape, but there’s no way I’m passing up that offer.
Under the table, Natalie’s knee bumps mine, and I freeze. She doesn’t move it away, and when I look at her, she smiles, mouthing, “Thank you.”
I lean close to her, whispering in her ear. “For what?”
“For this. For coming, for making my family feel special.”
When she pulls back, her eyes shine at me. Her citrus scent mingles with the aroma of cheese and yeast, and I want to bottle it and take it with me.
“They are special,” I tell her. “And so are you.”
It’s corny, probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever said, but I can’t help it. Staring at her over the simple meal, surrounded by her family, it feels like maybe she wants me as much as I want her.
I grab her fingers under the table and squeeze, and she squeezes back. No one seems to notice I eat the rest of the meal with my left hand.
After dinner, Natalie hops up and scoops ice cream for everyone and Sarah reveals a Star Wars-themed cake, decorated with Baby Yoda. After lighting five candles, we sing Happy Birthday—very off-key—and dig in.
The cake is as good as the pizza—rich and chocolaty with buttercream frosting I want to lick off the plate. Jace is covered in it and having a blast.
After getting him cleaned up, I offer to help Natalie clear the table, but her mom won’t have it. “You’re a guest,” she insists. “You stay seated.”
Soon the paper plates are tossed, and the dishwasher is loaded with the rest. Then Natalie places the gift bags on the table in front of Jace.
He opens a big yellow dump truck and a new set of pajamas from his grandparents, a Cars book and winter boots from his mom, and a fun Black and Decker replica tool set from Natalie. Then he slides my present towards him, and I realize how totally inappropriate it is for a five-year-old.
But Jace’s dark eyes light up as he takes out the signed hockey puck and the jersey I got him. “Now I have one like you!”
He has no idea it’s signed. He’s just excited to have one. After thanking me politely for the autographed picture of my dad, he squeals when he gets to the Matchbox car in the bottom of the bag. I tossed it in there at the last minute—I don’t remember who gave me the tiny replica of my BMW, but it was a gag gift.
And it’s Jace’s favorite thing ever. He zooms up from the table and pulls me with him, insisting that it’s time to play cars.
How is the cheapest, most insignificant gift the one he likes most?
With a shrug at Natalie, I let Jace tug me into his bedroom. Two twin beds are jammed in there, forming an L along the walls. It leaves most of the space open for him, and he grabs a box from under his bed—covered with a Star Wars comforter—and opens it to show me his cars.
“Look! This one is red, this one is silver, like yours. Which one do you want to be?”
“Um, can I be a blue one?” I ask, settling on the floor, and he drives one through the air to me.
“Can I play, too?” Natalie says from the doorway, and I spin to see her. She knocks the breath out of my lungs when she smiles like that, beaming from ear to ear, and I melt like the ice cream she served for dessert. She’s wearing a simple white t-shirt with jeans, but her tan skin glows. My heart beats faster in my chest.
“Yeah!” Jace hands her a pink car, and she sits beside me.
“Am I the pink car because I’m a girl?” she asks, and he nods. “Could I be the blue one, if I wanted?”
“Here.” I swap with her. “We can trade.”
Jace studies us, like he’s not sure about this, but ultimately shrugs and then starts ramming his car into ours.
I have no idea how to play cars, but it seems to mostly comprise driving the cars around the floor, making vrooming noises, crashing into everything, and laughing a lot. It’s incredible. After an epic pile-up where Natalie and I tickle Jace into submission, I lay on the floor, panting, and meet her gaze over his head.
I want this—what she has. I want her. She glows with happiness, and the lightness in my chest expands until it fills me, like I’ve swallowed sunshine.
Hockey is life. But maybe I can make room for other priorities. Especially if those priorities have deep brown eyes I want to get lost in and the softest, most kissable lips I’ve ever touched. Natalie looks out for everyone, takes care of the people she loves with fierce loyalty, and makes everyone around her better. I want to be in her orbit. I want to spoil her, and I want to work to deserve her.
“Go out with me?”The words pop out before I overthink it, but it feels right.
She bites her lip, and the moment stretches out too long. Regret bubbles up inside me like heartburn. She’s going to shoot me down. Sweat dots my hairline, and the awkwardness creeps in.
“I work for the team, so we have to keep things professional on the ice.”
I blink, going over her words in my mind. Hope buoys me. “That’s…not a no.”
Her look turns coy. “No, it’s not. In fact, I think it’s a yes.”
“I can be professional. Super professional, I promise. So professional, you don’t even know.” I’m babbling a little, but I can’t help it. She said yes. I clear my throat. “How about Wednesday? That’s when we have early practice. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Can’t wait.”