Chapter 1 #3
“Would it help to have your daughter at the games with you?” Frankie offered. “You calmed down the moment you had eyes on her, so would that make a difference?”
Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t registered that the preseason games I’d played in were home games, and my mom was with Leena in the stands. They’d sat at the top of the lower bowl where I could see them, and…
Yes, that was better.
I nodded.
“Great, so let’s find you a nanny who’s willing to travel with the team.” Camille took out her phone, typing in a note. “It’s not ideal, but we can make travel arrangements for the two of them until you’re feeling more comfortable.”
“No nannies,” I repeated.
“Well, getting your mom’s visa extended and having her travel so often is a much bigger process.”
She wasn’t wrong—traveling while in a wheelchair was terrible, at best, especially alone. But add in a toddler with an inability to sit still? That was nightmare fuel, and not something I would put my mom through.
“Leena flies with me. Not on a separate flight.”
Camille frowned, then looked at Coach. “That’s a little more complicated. If you’re not open to a nanny, who are you suggesting watches her while I certainly hope I have you back on the ice?”
With each question, each word out of their mouth, I felt backed into a corner. But now that the idea of bringing Leena with me this season was out there, I couldn’t see past it.
Sure, it was a logistical nightmare. Probably not the best for toddler sleep patterns either. But if I was going to take a stab at being both the dad I wanted to be and the teammate they needed me to be, this was my only choice.
So how did I make this work?
The three of them continued to throw out ideas, but I pictured every worst-case scenario.
Just like before, my vision did that odd focus thing, everything getting blurry around the edges. I blinked, trying to ward off another panic attack that would only prove their point of how unstable I was, focusing on Camille’s hair.
I knew that color, the same inky black, like a starless winter sky.
She had the same blunt, honest way of speaking, too.
If she were here, I’m sure she’d know what to say to get them off my back. Some sharp jab to shut them up and put them in their place. Hell, I’d seen her light up a guy at a bake-off this summer over lying about his store-bought pie crust. I smirked, remembering it.
“Unless you have a secret wife you’re hiding too, a nanny is our best option,” Camille said, her tone turning sarcastic.
My brain snagged on the word wife, tossing and turning it over until a new solution popped into my head.
Was it sane? No.
Was it even a good idea? To be determined.
But I was out of those, and this one…
“Mikko,” Frankie tried to grab my wrist again. But this time, I pulled it out of his reach.
He didn’t need more ammo to know I was out of my mind.
“I do,” I said, looking between them. “Have a wife, I mean.”
A sharp laugh silenced us all, and we all turned to look at Logan, feet still propped up on the armrest. He had his arms crossed over his chest and beanie down over his eyes, but his lips were pulled into his mouth, doing his best to bite back any more laughter.
Coach jabbed him in the foot. “Something to say, Parrish?”
Logan jerked in his seat and pulled up his hat, proving that if hockey failed him, Hollywood wasn’t an option. “What? I was sleeping.”
“You laughed,” Frankie said.
“Sleep laughed. Like snoring, but for funny people. So not you, Frankie.”
Camille squinted. “You’re kidding, right? Surely, you’re kidding.”
Why had I said I was married?
“How many secrets are you keeping in that head of yours, Laaksonen?” Coach asked through squinted eyes. “First a kid, now a wife…”
I shrugged. “It didn’t affect you.”
Camille tapped her nails on the table between us. “Yes, well, it does now. You’re married? When did this happen?”
Logan pulled up his beanie to reveal one eye while he mouthed, what the fuck are you doing?
But I couldn’t back down now. “It’s new.”
Frankie leaned away from me. “When did you meet someone? You’re barely holding it together between hockey and parenting, let alone dating.”
“We met before Leena.” I focused on Camille’s hair again, the lie coming easy enough. “Last winter. One of those, when you know, you know, situations.”
“Why haven’t you brought her around?” Coach’s brows furrowed so hard I knew he wasn’t buying it yet. “Does she have a name?”
Logan’s eyes got big, wondering where I was going with this.
Admitting I was lying felt like the opposite of proving to the team that I could do this, that I wasn’t crazy, so I said the one person who came to mind.
The one person who, prior to Leena, had consumed my thoughts, desperate to know more about her.
I knew next to nothing about her, and yet, I knew she was different—honest, loyal, and maybe a little unhinged.
That was exactly what I needed right now.
What I needed in a wife.
“Shannon,” I said. “Her name is Shannon Wilder.”
What the hell? Logan mouthed, eyes even wider as he gripped his forehead and leaned back in his chair.
What the hell, indeed.