Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
CAM
“Looking good, Wildcat,” I call across the parking lot, forgetting for a second that I have a kid on each side of me.
Oops.
But the oversight is worth it when Maddy’s head whips in my direction, and for the second before she schools her face into a neutral expression, I see it.
The flash of heat in her eyes, like she thinks of last night every time she looks at me the same way I do when I look at her.
The light flush that creeps up her cheeks.
And then, as quickly as it was there, it’s gone, and she’s stalking across the parking lot like she has places to be and asses to kick.
I wish I didn’t find that so fucking hot.
That’s a lie. I’m glad to find it so fucking hot. I’m glad for every minute I get to look at her. I also suddenly have an entirely new list of things I want to know about her, starting with the reason for the skates slung over her shoulder.
“Your car is really cool!” Riley calls, unprompted, as Maddy crosses the lot.
I can tell she was going to try and sail right by me, but at the sound of Riley’s voice, she hesitates, reluctantly changing directions to walk towards us.
God bless my daughter and her uncanny ability to talk to anyone about anything when she’s in the right mood.
“Thanks,” Maddy says, glancing between my two kids with a smile but avoiding eye contact with me in a way that has me biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Celine is the great love of my life.”
Riley laughs. “You named your car Celine?”
Maddy smiles, adjusting the skates over her shoulder. “I sure did.”
“Why?”
“Because my car is awesome, and it deserved to be named after someone as amazing as Celine Dion.”
I have no idea why I find the idea that Maddy named her car after a nineties pop star so endearing, but I really fucking do.
Riley furrows her brow. “Who’s Celine Dion?”
Maddy gasps dramatically, holding a hand to her heart.
Now she actually does look at me, and I feel a little zing when her gorgeous green eyes lock on mine.
“I assume these children belong to you, and I have to say, the fact that one of them is not acquainted with the undeniable queen of power ballads has me calling your parenting skills into question.”
I chuckle, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. “They do, indeed, belong to me. This is Riley and Ethan, and I take the entire blame for their lack of nineties pop ballad knowledge.”
“He’s a pretty good dad,” Riley says with a shrug then she shoots me an evil grin. “Most of the time. How do you know him, anyway? He called you Wildcat, which I guess is a nickname, and he’s only ever given nicknames to me and Ethan.”
Maddy’s gaze shoots back to mine, and I can hear her as if she spoke the words out loud.
Be cool and don’t fuck this up.
“We work together,” I tell my kids, praying neither of them asks me why I call her Wildcat, because there’s no way my brain can conjure up a kid appropriate explanation for that question that won’t have Maddy kicking me straight in the balls.
“Her real name is Maddy, and she’s the head psychologist for the Renegades. ”
“What’s a psychologist?” Ethan asks.
Maddy turns her attention to my son, and something about the way she’s standing here, talking to them and answering their questions like it’s the most natural thing on earth, has my heart kicking up in my chest. “It means I’m in charge of making sure all the players are mentally prepared to play the game.
They can talk to me about things that might be making it hard for them to play their best, and I help them find a way to fix it. ”
“Like when I sprained my ankle playing hockey last year and I was afraid to go back on the ice when it was healed?” Ethan asks curiously.
Maddy bends down so she can look him in the eye. “Exactly like that. When athletes get injured, it can be hard for them to get back to playing because they’re afraid of getting hurt again. I help them face that fear and go back even stronger than they were before they got hurt.”
Ethan nods seriously, like he gets it, and the care she took to explain that to my son in a way that he would understand makes me feel all the things. “Do you play hockey like me? You’re at the arena and you have hockey skates on your shoulder.”
“I did,” Maddy says with a smile. “I played hockey from the time I was seven years old until I graduated from college. Now I just skate for fun as much as I can.”
Oh, holy fuck. I’m suddenly assaulted by an image of Maddy flying down the ice in full gear with a hockey stick in her hand, and I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it really fucking is.
Don’t you dare get a boner standing here in the parking lot with your kids.
Your kids, Cam.
Don’t you fucking dare.
“That’s cool that you played.” Riley studies Maddy curiously. “I’ve never met a girl who played hockey before. It’s so badass.”
Maddy glances up at me with laughter in her eyes at Riley’s blunt statement and then back down at my daughter. “Female hockey players are definitely badass. I loved playing. And now I just love skating, and I’m lucky I get to do it here whenever I want.”
I wonder what she means by that. How often she skates. How she can be here when there’s no public skating time scheduled this afternoon.
My eyes bounce between Maddy and my kids as they have a conversation like they’ve known each other forever, and when our gazes lock and hold, I can’t name the feeling that settles into my chest, but I think it’s something like rightness.
And there’s a thought it’s way too soon to be having.
“I love it too,” Ethan says. “I just had a game, and we’re about to go have two dinners because I’m starving.”
Maddy laughs, and the sound is like sunshine. “I’ll let you get to all your dinners. It was really nice meeting you guys. I’m going to go get my skate on.”
“The rink is empty,” I blurt out for no apparent reason except I don’t want her to leave. I want her to stay and keep talking to my kids and especially to me.
Maybe forever.
“My favorite time to skate,” she says with a smile and a wave as she walks past us towards the rink, pushing open the doors and heading inside. My eyes stay glued to her back until she disappears from view.
“She’s cool,” Riley says, yanking me out of my head and back into the moment. “It’s awesome when women work in men’s professional sports.”
“It is,” I agree, leading both kids to the car. “The Renegades have lots of women who work with the team.”
“Every team should,” Ethan says bluntly as he climbs into the car.
“They should, but they don’t.” Riley hops in on the other side and tugs her seatbelt on.
I get in and start the engine, my kids still dissecting and excoriating the lack of female representation in professional sports, and it makes me smile, pride filling my chest. I’ve told Riley and Ethan stories about what a certified badass their mom was.
About how she was a math major in college and took so many classes where she was the only woman in the room.
How she made it her life’s work to teach kids to love science and math as much as she did.
And every single day, they spend time with my mom who, although mostly retired from her position as partner in one of the biggest accounting firms in Pennsylvania, is still a complete boss who raised me all on her own after my dad left when I was a baby and is ten times smarter than any man in any room.
I want the world my kids live in to be one where they see women kicking ass all over the place. For Riley to know that every door in the world is open to her and for Ethan to understand that too.
I may be a single dad, but there’s no patriarchy in my house.
And as I drive home, I think of another badass woman. One with gorgeous red hair and the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, and I’m already counting the minutes until I get to talk to her again.