Chapter 2
Silas
Present Day
No one warned me about the daily headaches that come with being a dad—well, a dad-like figure—but, dear blue line, this girl tests my patience every. Single. Day.
“Aubrey, we’re going to be late! Get your lazy butt in gear, child,” I holler from the bottom of the stairs. I’ve already been in her room three times in the last half hour.
The groan that echoes down the hall lets me know she’s buried her head into her pillow before a stuffed animal—the moose, I think—flies out her door and into the bathroom door.
I chuckle despite myself. “Missed, Aubs.”
She grumbles something, but the words don’t compute even as I move up the stairs.
“Aubrey, get moving. I have to drop you off before practice, and I can’t afford to be late again.” I bite back a groan as a car horn blares outside. “Rooks is already outside waiting. Which means you need to move it, move it.”
“You move it, move it,” says the mountain of stuffed animals seconds before a head of blonde curls pops out from under the comforter. “Can’t I just go to the rink with you?” Aubrey asks.
No one warned me of the constant guilt trips a nine-year-old is capable of, either.
“No can do, missy. It’ll be too long of a day, and you need to get your schoolwork done before tomorrow. You’ll stay with Ms. Shona until lunch. Either Uncle Rooks or I will grab you before our afternoon skate.”
“Ms. Shona smells like old people,” she grumbles, her pert little nose turning up.
“Well, she was born in the 1940s, so do with that information what you will. But also, not nice.”
“No one’s ever claimed me to be nice.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and silently count backward from ten while questioning every decision I’ve made in the last five years.
“Up. Dressed. Brushed teeth. Out the door. Ten minutes or I take your tablet.”
Her feet hit the floor before I make it to the stairs. Threatening her e-reader always works.
I sling my gear bag and Aubrey’s bookbag over my shoulder then flick on the floodlights and step onto the porch, cursing the rain. Better than Georgia humidity, but not by much.
The lights inside the blue pickup truck cut on as my best friend and right winger jumps out, clad in a full rain suit.
“Waiting for floodwaters or something, Rookie?”
“Says the man who came to practice with hot pink nail polish on last week. Where’s little bit?”
“Getting dressed. Hopefully,” I mumble as I sling our bags into the back seat, ignoring the glare burning into my back.
“Coach is ready to rip us a new one if we’re late again.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I grumble.
As we move back into the house, he glances toward Aubrey’s room
“Look, man. I know you’re doing the best you can, but don’t you think it’s time to consider a nanny like Coach suggested?”
I shrug one shoulder, hating how much my gut stings at the idea.
The thought of leaving Aubrey with someone new makes me feel like I’m abandoning her.
“Can’t leave her with someone when we hit the road.
She isn’t even ten, and she’s seen too damn much.
Besides, Aubrey won’t stay with someone she doesn’t know and like.
And since she doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t travel with us. ..”
He rummages through our protein bar collection before changing his mind and snagging a Twix bar. “All I’m saying is, if you keep dropping the ball on this, Coach is likely to shift you off our first line. And we need you up there.”
I know Rooker is right. While Thorn might be a good friend, he’s always been the coach first. He can’t let his starting center consistently show up late.
Rooks bites into his candy before pointing the chocolate bar at me.
“Whatever you’re going to say, the answer is no,” I mutter.
He ignores me, continuing. “You know who would be willing?”
“No.”
“Come on, Si.” He drops his voice, glancing toward where Aubrey should appear any second now. “That girl would drop everything if you said you needed her help.”
Turning my back to him as I try to find something to occupy my hands—and the still-massive hole in my heart—I fight to bite my tongue. “That’s the point,” I finally say. “Oakley has a life of her own. She travels a lot and doesn’t like being tied down.”
“Yeah, but she’s the only person Aubrey actually likes to spend time with outside of the team wives.”
I close the dishwasher and lean heavily against it, my hands braced on the counter behind me.
“She doesn’t know about the custody battle,” I mutter, scanning behind Rooker.
The last thing I need is Aubrey hearing us discuss Oakley Slater.
They used to have a standing weekly video call, but with preseason and Oakley’s travel schedule, they haven’t been able to keep up with it for the last few weeks.
The look on Rooker’s face slices me. We grew up in the same community and started skating around the same time. His parents took me to all our road games since mine couldn’t be bothered.
“I’m not asking Oakley to come back to Steele Valley. She made it clear years ago that we didn’t have the same wants for the future. She wanted to do her own thing, not be a pro athlete’s wife.”
I’ve never been more thankful than right now that my friend is a vault when it comes to sharing his mind, because Aubrey chooses that moment to bound down the stairs in a—what the hell?
I look from her to Rooks and back again before scratching the back of my neck.
Rooks’s expression lights up as Aubrey squeals and launches herself at him. “Twinsies!” he yells before grabbing her under the arms and spinning in circles. The giggles it elicits are worth the ass-chewing we’ll get for being late.
They really are dressed the same. Where I picked fun at Rooks’s navy rain suit, Aubrey is clad in a bright-purple and lime-green one, complete with mermaid rain boots.
“When did you get that? Better yet, where?”
“Isn’t it the most awesomest, Bubba?” The use of her nickname for me and the way she’s cradled against Rooks’s chest makes me long for the days when she would curl up with us to nap or watch television. She’s still tiny, and Rooks is massive.
“Need any help getting your hockey bag in the truck, Shortstack?”
“Not short, Rookie,” she says as she sticks out her tongue at him, her legs kicking the air, effectively thwarting her argument.
As he sets her feet on solid ground and takes her bag before she can protest, he tugs on her messy braid. “You barely come up to my chest, kiddo,” he says before heading out the door. “Let’s go, slowpokes!” he hollers over his shoulder.
That usually quiet place in my chest thumps at the sight, and I can’t help but think, what if? What if I could give Aubrey that stability she pretends not to crave? What if I’d made different choices, better choices, all those years ago?
But it’s pointless.
There’s more to my fiancée—ex-fiancée—not sticking around. One of her biggest fears—hell, maybe the biggest fear—was becoming a mother. It’s why we split. She wasn’t willing to give me kids. Guess she never realized the only way I wanted kids was with her.
Since we’re both stubborn, we’ve kept our friendship intact, much to her brother Noah’s delight. Let’s be honest: I can’t do life without my Katie Girl in my life, even if that means occasional video calls and minimal social media stalking.
“Bubba, do I have to go to Ms. Shona’s? I can just stay in Uncle Thorn’s office. He likes when I sort his paperwork.”
“I promise to get you to the rink after lunch, but there’s too much happening today. I’ll let you hit the ice for a bit. Maybe one of the younger guys will be dumb enough to accept your challenges.”
“I could use some extra book money,” she muses, already trailing after Rooks.
As we climb into the truck, I run through the usual morning questions and get eye rolls and sighs in return.
“Do you have your phone?”
“Yep.”
“Is it charged?”
“Duh.”
“Don’t duh me.”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
That earns her a sharp look while Rooks shakes with silent laughter behind the wheel.
“You are skating on very thin ice this morning, Aubrey Lynn. Don’t test me. I better not find out from Ms. Shona that you’re pulling this mess with her.”
She crosses her arms and huffs, so I drop my chin to catch her eyes.
“Got me?” I ask softly.
She only nods once, but I’ll take it.
Gaining custody of my kid sister has been an adjustment of massive proportions.
I went from seeing her once a week to stepping into the father role after ours went out for milk and never came back.
Then her mother abandoned her a few weeks before the playoffs last season.
Luckily, the judge overseeing the case understood enough of the situation to sign over custody to me.
Our Voltage family was persuasive, the entire team, all the coaches, and most of the office staff filling the courtroom.
Now we’re in the middle of camp, and I’ve been late more times than I can count. I’ve tried multiple alarms, laying out clothes and bags the night before, getting up thirty minutes earlier. Somehow, we’re still always behind.
Rooks pulls to a stop outside Ms. Shona’s. Aubrey unbuckles and slips out before I can open my door. She grabs her bookbag, hitches it over her shoulder, and then runs toward the front porch. She pauses at the base of the steps, a slight hesitation before she turns and runs back to the truck.
I’m ready for it, already out of the truck and arms wide. Like clockwork.
As she tucks into my chest, I cup the back of her head, savoring the moments she acts like the little girl she ought to be.
“You’ll be back in a few hours, right?” she asks, her voice small and muffled by my shirt.
“Yeah, little bit. Me or Rooks will be here right after lunch.”
“Promise?”
“A thousand times.”
“Love you, Bubba. Slay it on the ice today.” She presses her little body into me one more time before sprinting to the porch where her tutor waits.
This right here is the reason I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. That little girl is everything to me.
“Love you, too, Aubs. Behave,” I shout as she waves and disappears inside.
Rooker hits the interstate for the half-hour drive to Athens. I try to zone out, willing thoughts of Kates away. My annoyingly optimistic driver has other plans.
“Call her, man,” he says as he fiddles with the stereo, an old rock song filling the cab.
“Drop it, Rooker.”
He shakes his head as he merges into the fast lane. “I was there for the fallout, remember? I helped pick up the pieces and made sure you didn’t shut us out,” he says, eyes flicking to me before returning to the road. “That little girl we dropped off needs to be with you. With us. The team.”
Frustration pools in my gut. “She will be,” I grumble, dragging my palms over my face.
“While you’re still our star center? Fat chance if something doesn’t change.”
Damn it, he’s right. As much as I fight it, I sink into that locker in the back corner of my mind—the one where I keep all the negative thoughts locked away.
I'm not cut out for fatherhood. Oakley was right not to want kids with me. I was never meant to be a dad.
“Hey.” Rooks nudges my shoulder, giving me that look of understanding that guts me every time.
“Thoughts are getting heavy over there. Talk to Thorn or see if Marley has any leads. The wives and girlfriends adore Shortstack and want to help, but they aren’t going to say anything until you reach out first.”
“Damn it, man. You talked to Marley about this?” I groan. “I’m not asking for a handout.”
“It’s not a handout when they want to help. We’re lucky to call this team our family—I know that better than most. And hell yes, I told Marley. I tell my sister everything.”
Great. Just what I need: two Jacobs siblings stressing over my life.
“I promise I’m stressing enough for all of us. Just…just back off it. Please. I’ll talk to Thorn after practice.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
He exits the interstate, and the practice rink comes into view—a big white rectangle with a flat roof and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the college campus.
This place was privately funded with the goal of expanding the state’s D1 hockey presence, and it delivered.
Our coaching staff quickly realized that a large chunk of our rookies—four or five of them, since our team is mostly young blood—lived in a townhouse in Athens or wanted to keep taking classes.
It works out, since our old rink is open to the public from eight to eight, which made daytime practices interesting, to say the least.
Now we've got private ice and better security, which matters more than ever with Aubrey around most days. With the anonymous calls and the nagging fear that someone could find some legal loophole to take her from me, I need every ounce of peace of mind I can get.