Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his jaw, staring at the scouting reports scattered across his desk without really seeing them.
He found it hard to concentrate these days, constantly distracted by a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. Dean grinned to himself as he recalled the last lunch he’d shared with Vivian at her place.
He’d shown up at her house that Tuesday, strapping a tool belt around his waist before knocking on her door. She laughed when she saw him.
“You called for a handyman, ma’am?” he’d twanged.
Vivian had contended he didn’t need to do her chores for her, but he’d insisted. He hadn’t dived too deep into his motivations at the time. She had things she couldn’t do that he could. It had been as simple as that.
Now, though, he realized it wasn’t that simple at all.
Dean had done those chores because he cared about her, and he didn’t want to live in any world where Vivian felt frustrated or overwhelmed or tired. Not when he was willing to help her. She mattered to him. That was a foreign feeling, but there was no denying it was there.
Dean opened his phone, flipping through his photos until he found a selfie he’d snapped of him and Vivian together, standing in front of the bookshelf he’d helped her assemble.
He pretended he was taking it as a way to commemorate them building a masterpiece, but the truth was, it had occurred to him that morning that he didn’t have a picture of just the two of them together, and he wanted one.
Dean grinned again when he caught sight of the kitchen counter in the background of the photo. The same counter where Dean had bent Vivian over following their carpentry project and taken her with a hunger he’d never experienced in his life.
“Shit,” he muttered, forcing himself to close his phone. He was never going to get any damn work done today at this rate.
He glanced at his computer, grimacing when he saw he had an email from McKenna, outlining upcoming promotional campaigns. It wasn’t unusual for her to email him and the coaching staff, but seeing her name now triggered an unwanted emotion.
Guilt.
Ever since he’d started seeing Vivian, he hadn’t made nearly enough time for McKenna.
Before his own secret relationship—and McKenna’s very-much-not-a-secret romance with Tank—he and his daughter had fallen into a familiar routine.
At least once or twice a week, one of them would wander into the other’s office around lunchtime or quitting time with a casual, “You hungry?”
His gaze drifted to the framed photo on the corner of his desk. It was from last year—he and McKenna were smiling at the camera, both wearing Stingrays hoodies at one of Victor’s fall firepit nights.
He’d always enjoyed having meals with McKenna, but somehow that had fallen away over the past few months.
He tried to tell himself it wasn’t entirely his fault. The Stingrays’ season had bounced from one extreme to the other since opening night, and everyone in hockey operations had been working ridiculous hours trying to steady the ship.
His new guys, Dominic and Jordan, had serious talent, bringing speed, skill, and a level of competitiveness the roster needed.
But talent didn’t automatically translate into chemistry.
Finding the right combinations, getting the new guys to mesh with the established lines, figuring out who complemented whom, took time and patience.
Everyone was stretched thin.
Even so, work wasn’t the only reason he’d stopped spending time with McKenna, and the irony wasn’t lost on him.
For the past month, he’d tied himself into knots, worrying that Vivian would decide what they had wasn’t worth the risk. She had asked to keep their dating a secret in an attempt to protect Pip. Hell, he respected her reason and appreciated her honesty.
While he was trying to build a relationship with McKenna now, it had definitely been bordering on too little, too late.
He’d missed so much of McKenna’s life, not truly reaching out until her high school graduation, and he’d only gone to that because she’d made the first move, sending him an invitation.
Every week that passed without him spending quality time with McKenna only justified his fears more. He was still failing on the “dad” front. Sure, she was an adult, but he knew for a fact Ellie called to touch base with her almost daily. His gaze drifted to the clock on his computer screen—11:52.
Close enough to lunch.
He pushed away from his desk and stood, stretching until his back gave a satisfying pop. Maybe he could accomplish one productive thing today.
Grabbing his phone, he headed for the elevator. If McKenna was in her office, maybe she’d be willing to duck across the street to the café with him. Just the two of them. They could talk about hockey, give each other grief, maybe she’d tell him whatever ridiculous thing Tank had done this week.
The elevator doors slid open onto the executive floor. Dean tucked his phone into his pocket and headed toward McKenna’s office, already deciding he’d let her choose between sandwiches at the café or fast-food burgers. His girl loved a Big Mac.
He was only a few steps from her open doorway when laughter drifted into the hallway. He slowed automatically.
“I’m serious,” McKenna said between giggles. “You should have seen Tank’s face when I started crying. He was absolutely horrified.”
He frowned. What the hell had Tank done to make McKenna cry? Dean immediately began plotting retribution during practice. A few thousand suicide sprints came to mind.
“Oh, honey, that man is an absolute keeper.”
Dean stopped cold at the familiar voice.
Ellie?
What was she doing in Baltimore?
He leaned slightly toward the door before he could stop himself. While he and Ellie had established a friendly relationship over the years, he still hesitated to announce his presence, not wanting to interrupt their visit. He knew how close McKenna was with her mom and how much she missed her.
“I still can’t believe you drove all this way just to see the ring. I could have sent you a picture, you know?” McKenna said.
“I absolutely drove all this way! My only daughter gets engaged and you expect me to wait for pictures?”
Engaged?
Dean stared at the carpet outside McKenna’s office, certain he’d heard Ellie wrong.
Tank had proposed?
Dean’s first instinct was to walk in and demand to know why no one had told him. His second was to turn around and leave before they realized he was standing there. Instead, he remained frozen in the hallway, too stunned to do either.
“I still can’t believe he drove all the way to Ohio to get your blessing.” McKenna’s voice was softer now.
“He didn’t have to,” Ellie insisted. “But damn if my opinion of him didn’t go up a thousand percent when he showed up on my doorstep. And I already liked the man.”
“He likes you too, Mom. Very much.”
“Never seen Tank so nervous. I swore he looked like he was about to play game seven of the Stanley Cup finals.”
McKenna burst into laughter. “He admitted he was terrified when he got there.”
“Not going to lie. For a second there, I thought he was coming to tell me he’d gotten you pregnant.”
“Oh my God, Mom. You think I’d seriously send Tank to tell you something like that instead of coming myself?”
“No, I don’t,” Ellie said, “but I was pretty shocked to find him standing there without you. Couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened.”
Dean closed his eyes. Tank had driven all the way to Ohio to get Ellie’s blessing.
A knot settled heavily in his chest. Not because that was wrong. Tank had done exactly what he should have. Ellie had raised McKenna…alone. She’d been there through every scraped knee, every school program, every teenage heartbreak. She had earned that conversation.
Dean might be McKenna’s father, but he’d never truly been her dad. Not the way Ellie had been her mom.
Even now, with them finally living in the same city and slowly building what they’d never had, their relationship felt less like father and daughter and more like two adults who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
They’d become friends.
“What did Dean say?” Ellie asked.
There was a brief pause. “We haven’t told him yet.”
Dean’s stomach tightened. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping like this, but he couldn’t make himself walk away.
“Why not?” Ellie asked.
“It only happened two days ago,” McKenna explained. “Between the proposal and the road trip, we just haven’t had the chance. We’re going to text him in a couple of days and invite him out to dinner. Until then, we’re not telling anyone else.”
Dean let out a slow breath.
No one else knew. Ellie was the only exception.
Dean wasn’t sure why it mattered so much that they wanted him to hear the news before they announced it to the rest of the world, but it did.
Ellie was as confused by Dean over the delay. “Why wait a couple of days?”
McKenna snorted. “We want to give him some time to get over that road trip. Tank would prefer it if Dean was in a good mood when we drop the engagement bomb on him.” He could tell from her tone that she was kidding. Even so…
Dean wanted to be offended by their reasoning, but he couldn’t.
The team was just coming off two brutal overtime losses, two games they’d come within inches of stealing before everything unraveled in sudden death.
“Probably a good plan,” Ellie agreed. “That man lives and breathes hockey, to the exclusion of everything else.”
Dean’s shoulders tightened when McKenna said, “Yeah.”
“He always has,” Ellie added, without an ounce of accusation or anger in her tone. She was just stating the facts as she saw them, and the worst part was…she was right.
Hockey had always come first.
Always.
For him, there was always another game to prepare for, another player to scout, another crisis to deal with.