Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Fox had to drag Leon out the door because he insisted that being too punctual would hurt his bad-boy image — but they still arrived at the stadium on time.
“What? I’m taken, Fox.”
“Invite him to dinner,” he repeated emphatically. “Just the two of you. He just lost his brother and has been having a hard time. He needs more friends here, not just teammates, and we’ll start with you.”
Moreau sighed softly, which amounted to an eye roll and a middle finger. “Why me?”
“Because you both have French-sounding last names and because I said so!”
“You’re not my boss!”
“The season starts tomorrow, and at that time, I’m the boss again.”
“Captain isn’t synonymous with boss.”
“No? You want to ask the coach about that?”
“It’s okay.” Moreau shook his head. “Wow, threatening to turn me in. I’m only forgiving you because your morning sucked and yes, I’ll go out for drinks with him, but not dinner! Anna would mind if I dated my teammate.”
“Good.” He smiled contentedly. “Making sure he fits in well with the team is our most important task right now. Do you understand? He’s part of the family now and he should feel like one, so we can all play this season like we were in diapers together.”
That was exactly what made the difference between them and other teams. He’d played on three different teams before the Hawks and none had been a close-knit crew like they were. They deserved that damn Stanley Cup.
“I’ll go ahead. I think someone wants to talk to you,” Moreau grumbled, hastening his pace.
Fox turned and noticed Leon had finally made it out of the car. He was wearing a leather jacket, even though October in Los Angeles was still warm. He wrung his hands and hurriedly caught up with him. Yep, the problem kid had something on his mind.
“What?” Fox asked.
“So, Lucy and the PR team arranged some kind of photo shoot for the younger players…” he mumbled.
“But I don’t want to be covered in baby oil and dirt again.
I’m fine with being a sex object — I mean, what am I supposed to do?
I look the way I look — but if one more reporter asks if my mom didn’t teach me how to wash properly, she’ll get really mad.
So…could you talk to Lucy? She always laughs at me. ”
Austin suppressed a smile. So this was why Leon had spent the morning with him. He needed help and had to gather his courage to ask for it. The idiotic center spouted bullshit as soon as he opened his mouth, but he had his own insecurities, even if he was reluctant to reveal them.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, patting Leon on the shoulder.
Leon sighed with relief and mumbled a thank you before disappearing through the arena door, when Blake Ford took his place.
“Hey, one question…” he whispered. “No matter what Devreaux says, I’m not a rookie anymore, right? This is my second season, besides…man, I’ve grown my hair out, I don’t want to shave it again. The ladies like long hair!”
“The ladies don’t especially like being called the ladies. But no, you’re not a rookie anymore, so you can keep your hair.”
“Thank God. Thanks, man.” He gave him a quick hug before he disappeared as well.
Shaking his head, Fox watched them leave and was about to follow when a metallic blue BMW pulled up. The coach’s car, who had his own parking space in front of the entrance.
Parker Gray was barely five years older than him and had been a luminary on the ice — until he lost his wife and gave up his career to be there for his kids. He’d only taken the job as head coach of the Hawks a few years ago, and what he’d done before that…Fox had no idea. Probably changed diapers.
“So, how is our flock doing?” he asked. He asked this every week, and in response, Fox gave him a rundown of the team’s current situation.
He had no idea if this was the case with all teams, but the coach insisted on being informed about everything concerning his boys, be it a deceased pet or a pulled muscle.
“Rather good. Devreaux is settling in fine, but I told Moreau to go out with him anyway.”
“They make a pretty couple.”
He chuckled softly. “That’s what I thought too!
Nieminen texted me yesterday that he sprained his little finger while drunk.
Charkov doesn’t want to sleep in Rivers’ room at away games anymore because the guy snores, but he’s too afraid to tell him…
” Fox took a breath before giving Gray the remaining updates, at which the coach nodded approvingly.
“All right, thanks. Stay here for another five minutes, okay? If we go in together too often, the players will think you’re my personal spy.”
“Aren’t I?” Fox asked dryly.
Gray grinned and clicked his tongue. “It’s for their own good.
They won’t come to me with their little aches and pains and I want to know whose feelings I should spare and whose not.
I was a player myself not so long ago and would never have run to the coach with my problems. But to the captain…
?” He shrugged and walked past him into the stadium.
Gray was right. It was a good system. Besides, Fox didn’t reveal everything. Only what was relevant to the team, and…
He paused because he was being stared at.
When you had played in the NHL for as long as he had, you became accustomed to being stared at more than usual.
There were the groupies in the hotel or in the Ice Lounge, the bar they usually frequented.
There were the people who only stared because he was so damn tall and broad.
The fans, the opposing players, his mailman… the list went on and on.
But children stared at him rarely here because they usually didn’t hang around the Hawks’ private parking lot.
Yet, barely 20 feet away from him, a lanky girl, maybe ten or eleven years old, judging by her height, stood staring at him, open-mouthed.
She was wearing green corduroy pants, a white t-shirt with some kind of blue fish and the words Just keep swimming!
on it, and a sky-blue backpack on her back that was barely bigger than his palm.
“Hey,” he said kindly, raising his hand. The girl appeared to be lost and in need of help. Maybe she simply wasn’t brave enough to ask. “Are you okay? Are you lost?”
She shook her head. Then nodded. Shook her head and tucked a few strands of hair that had escaped her braids behind her ears.
Her eyes were a light gray that seemed oddly familiar. She seemed familiar in general. Her hair color, her oval face… He felt as if he’d seen her somewhere before.
Was she a colleague’s daughter that he had crossed paths with before? Maybe today was Bring Your Child to Work Day. But no, then Moreau would have brought Melody with him.
Cautiously, he took a step toward the girl. He didn’t want to frighten her since he was over six foot three. “Was that a yes or a no?” he asked.
“I’m not lost,” she stated firmly, though her hands were shaking. “I’m here with my school. We’re on a field trip and are visiting the ice rink today.”
“Ah, the public ice rink is next door. Should I escort you there, or…”
Again, she shook her head. “I wanted to come here first to visit someone…”
“Yeah? Who?”
The girl kneaded her lower lip between her fingers before murmuring, “You.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Me?”
She nodded, and the next moment, she lifted her chin. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Delfina Adams.” She paused…and waited.
He blinked. She looked at him as if that meant something. “Well, I’m Fox…um, Austin,” he replied, slightly confused, but it seemed rude not to introduce himself.
“I know who you are. I google you all the time. But you’re taller than in the pictures.”
“You google me?” he blurted out. “Are you a hockey fan?”
“Noooo.” She shook her head. “I like soccer and swimming. But I sometimes watched a game with Nonna Rossi when Mom was away. You were always…smaller.”
He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Soccer is a sport for pussies, didn’t seem appropriate to him.
“Uh-huh,” he caught himself. “And why were you looking for me?”
Delfina shrugged…and reproach crept into her eyes that he didn’t understand. Nevertheless, she stared at him as if he ought to know why.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, putting her hands under the straps of her backpack.
“Mom told me to wait and go with her. But I’m impatient, and since I found out where you worked – it’s on Google – I wanted to know if I looked like you.
When Mom’s tired and not paying attention, and I ask her about it, she always says I look more like you than her. But I don’t know if she’s right.”
Time stood still and his heart stopped beating.
She wanted to know if…if… What?
Was this a joke?
The girl’s eyes were so serious – those light gray eyes he thought he knew – and now she lifted her chin again and stuck out her lower lip, which was a touch thinner than her upper lip…
Goosebumps ran down his back and his throat tightened. She was so damn familiar and…
Delfina Adams. She said her name was Delfina Adams.
Fuck. Adams. Oh, fuck.
“How old are you, Delfina?” he whispered, his voice strangely hollow.
“Nine and a half.”
His stomach clenched and his mouth went dry.
Blood whooshed through his ears as he started to calculate, his gaze flickering over the girl again — but this time he looked. This time, he examined every inch of Delfina’s oval face. The prominent cheekbones, the lips, her ears, whose lobes were attached and had a distinct notch at the top…
Automatically, he reached for his own ear…and stopped breathing.
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. It was absurd! She was just some kid who…who…
“You look angry,” she whispered, taking a step back. “Damn. I’m sorry. This wasn’t a good idea. Mom will be so mad…”
“Mom?” he snapped, coming out of his trance. “Who’s your mom?” he asked sharply.
“I have to go. My teacher is probably waiting,” she said hastily as she turned, and the next moment, ran across the parking lot.
His mouth gaping, he stared after her, unable to move. It probably wouldn’t have been wise to stalk a nine-year-old girl and beg to be allowed to stare at her for another hour.
“Fuck,” he whispered, rubbing his face hard. His eyes stung, his stomach was doing strange things, and his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it hurt.
This couldn’t be happening!
He needed more information. He needed to know who the mother…
He gritted his teeth. No, he knew exactly who the mom was.
It was why those light gray eyes had seemed so damn familiar.
He knew exactly who they belonged to because he’d never forgotten them, or anything about the damn woman, no matter how hard he’d tried for years.
Delfina had her eyes! But her hair, her expression…
Shit, if his parents were still alive, they would have taken one look at Delfina and then dug out his baby pictures.
He felt sick. He wanted to sit down, needed to sit down.
Nine. She was nine and a half years old! How could…how had…
Nine damn years!
He squeezed his eyes shut, a quiet rage rising inside him, mingling with the shock, uncertainty, confusion, and the feeling of losing his footing.
Shit, he needed reassurance. He needed to know what the hell was going on.
Now!