Chapter 12
Twelve
DEAN
Eleven Days Later…
My lungs are on fire, but it’s the crunch in my shoulder that’s really doing me in. I’m thirty-five, a classic car so old you can’t buy parts for it anymore in hockey years, and Shep—Chicago’s favorite two-hundred-and-fifty-pound rookie—is currently grinding every one of my ancient gears.
I swear, I can feel his elbow digging into my spine, even through my chest protector.
“Fuck off, you little shit,” I growl.
“You know you love me, old fart,” he says, laughing as he presses even closer. “Give it up, and I’ll go away, I promise.”
Regretting every second I spent teaching this kid offensive strategy at that camp at his high school nearly a decade ago, I shout, “Little help!”
“Kate, over here,” Nix calls, his voice jagged over the roar of the crowd.
I don’t look his way.
I can’t. Shepherd is too damned close.
I can’t see anything but the curve of his beefy cheek as he promises, “It’ll all be over soon, brother. Just give me what I came for.”
I don’t, of course. The day I go down without a fight is the day I quit the NHL, and I’m not ready for that yet. Not yet. This old dog still has fight in him and a few tricks up his jersey sleeve.
As Nix calls my name again, I shoot blind toward the sound of his voice.
Almost immediately, Shep darts away, giving me a clear view as my shot hits Nix’s stick tape. A beat later, he passes it to Grammercy, who drives it up the ice and—cling. The puck hits the back of the net a split second before the time runs out.
The horn shrieks—a raw, beautiful wail that still makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery, even after all these years—and I thrust my arms into the air with a roar of victory.
Yes! Hell yes!
God, I needed that.
After all the stress and awkwardness and “what the fuck am I doing” of the nearly two weeks since Clover came to live above my garage, this clean, clear, unequivocal win feels damned good.
Smiling ear to ear, I turn to search the stands to my left. I always know where the girls are sitting when they come to a game, and I make sure to give them a wave and a thumbs-up before I celebrate with the team or pump a fist at the cameraman. I want them to know that they come first.
I’m already lifting a hand when I see the glitter-smothered poster Bella and Ava hold over their heads, with some help from Clover. It reads in giant sparkle letters—CONGRATS ON 1100 GAMES DADDY! WE LOVE YOU!
My jaw drops, my gut clenching as the air leaves my lungs.
Shit.
God…is it really?
My mind reels, doing the math, until I finally realize…it is my 1,100th.
In all the insanity of the past few months, I’d forgotten.
I have no idea how Clover found out. Maybe Blue called her? Or maybe Nix or Charlotte? I think they’re friends. Hell, I have no idea. I only know that I’m so grateful to her for helping make this happen for the girls. They’re clearly thrilled with their surprise.
Seeing them bursting with pride as they wave for the Jumbotron camera, their beaming faces blown up for the entire arena to “aw” over, is almost too much.
Too sweet. Too good.
I wish Frederica could see them, see how happy and healthy they are.
See that they’re going to be okay, and that I’m doing everything I can to make sure of it, because I love them so much.
I might never be able to love them enough to make up for what they’ve lost, but I can give them every bit of my heart.
And I can give them amazing people like Clover, her cheeks pink as she pumps her fist and chants, “Yay, Daddy! Yay, Daddy!” along with the girls.
I’m so moved, I don’t know what to do with myself.
So moved, I don’t realize tears are leaking down my cheeks until Torrance slams a fist into my shoulder, demanding, “Are you okay, man? You having a Menty B right now or something?”
I shove at his chest with a tight laugh before swiping at my face through my mask. “No, you fuck, I’m not having a Menty B.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, relaxing as I continue to smile. “Half the Olds I know are having Menty Bs this year. Something in the water or some shit.”
“No, I’m just—”
Before I can finish, Nix and Grammercy swoop in on either side of us, wrapping me in a stinky hug. “Kate! How’s it feel to be a bona fide legend?” Nix shouts, clapping my back.
“Aw, it feels good,” Grammercy says, shooting me a knowing grin. “Especially with your bébés here. I know those tears. Those are happy papa tears.”
I nod, fighting another wave of emotion, even as I laugh and swipe at my face again.
Before I can finish pulling myself together, I’m mobbed by a riot of green jerseys delivering helmet-bonks and gloved hands hammering my shoulder pads.
Torrance shouts something about “looking at Coach for a pic,” but I can’t hear clearly over the rush of blood in my ears.
I catch another glimpse of the Jumbotron, but it isn’t the girls up there anymore. It’s me, the old fogey of the Voodoo, caught in a tight zoom, looking like I just took a puck to the gut but kind of liked it.
Kind of loved it, in fact, because I’m a sappy old man.
I am a sap. I love these men, this team. I love Louisiana and all the fans cheering their heads off as we skate toward the tunnel. And I love my family—my mom, and brother, aunts, uncles and cousins and, most of all, my baby girls.
I love them so much, it’s a struggle to keep my shit together through the post-game interviews and a quick shower. I can’t wait to see them, to scoop them up and hug them tight and tell them how much their present meant to me.
As I finally jog toward the family waiting area, bag knocking against my side, it feels like I’m overflowing with emotion. With happiness. With love.
I’m a lover. I always have been.
All the darkness surrounding the end of my marriage, the crushing blow of the divorce, and the agony of the past few months since Frederica died almost made me forget…but now I remember.
Now I remember how good it feels to let love fill you up until it overflows.
When I burst into the waiting area, I don’t even try to contain it. I drop my bag and rush toward my girls, all my girls. Before I know it, Clover and Ava and Bella are all in my arms again, just like after the Muddy Ball Disaster. But this time no one is crying or sad or soaking wet.
We’re all beaming, bouncing, laughing, hugging, and kissing. Somehow, I retain enough self-awareness to keep the kisses confined to the girls’ heads, their cheeks, and then Bella’s belly as I lift her to blow a raspberry on her tummy to make her laugh even harder, but for a second there…
For a second, I’m tempted to wrap an arm around Clover, pull her in, and show her how much I’ve missed the feel of her. The taste of her.
I still dream about the way she sighed into my mouth every fucking night.
I still take myself in hand in the shower to thoughts of her coming on my fingers, her wetness hot on my skin. Still mourn the fact that I’ll never feel her drenching my cock with an intensity I know isn’t healthy.
And yes, I’ll likely be back in the “Fucking your Nanny Isn’t on the Table, and Neither is Falling in Love with Her” despair pit by tomorrow morning, but for now…
Now, I’m still flying high as I tell her, “You have to come celebrate with us. We’re going to Packy’s Pizza.”
She laughs. “The place with the talking elephant and the video games?”
I beam and nod. “Yeah. The whole team is coming.” I grin down at Ava and Bella. “The guys want to play Skee-Ball until they win enough tickets to get the girls a giant Packy stuffy to take home.”
“Yay!” Ava cheers, bouncing with excitement beside me as Bella gasps in happiness too intense for squeals. “I love Skee-Ball! And Packy’s cotton candy! Can we get cotton candy, Daddy?”
“You sure can,” I say. “And you can stay up until ten o’clock.”
Bella’s eyes get even bigger. “Oh my gosh. I’m like a grown-up now.”
Clover laughs. “You are, but I’m afraid, I am not. I really should get home and get some sleep. But you guys have so much fun and be sure to—”
“Please,” I say, taking her hand, fighting to ignore the electricity that flows up my arm the second her fingers brush mine.
“This meant so much to me. The sign, and that you took off work with your band to bring the girls to the game. Really. I’d like to say thank you by buying you pizza and beer.
And you don’t have to watch the girls or anything while we’re there.
I’ll look after them. You can just…have fun.
Play Skee-Ball. Eat cheesy garlic bread. Whatever.”
“And eat cotton candy because it’s the best cotton candy. Even better than at the circus,” Ava adds in a wheedling whisper that makes Clover laugh again.
But it’s a breathier sound, and her eyes stay locked on mine as she nods. “Okay. In that case, I’d love to come. I’m so glad you liked the sign. The girls and I worked really hard on it.”
“I loved the sign,” I say, my throat tight again. “So much.”
“Good,” she says, seeming a little choked up, too. “For a second there, I was worried. You had man tears.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah. But they were happy man tears. Lucky man tears.” I kiss Bella’s cheek again as I hug Ava closer to my side. “This wouldn’t have been half as good without you guys here to share it with me. Thank you so much for coming and cheering and being my family. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” Ava says, as Bella hugs my neck, declaring, “I have the best Daddy!”
“Be right back,” Clover says, backing across the room. She waves a hand as she goes, calling, “Just need to hit the ladies’ before we leave! Too much lemonade!”
“Okay, we’ll wait for you here,” I assure her, turning back to Bella as she pats my cheeks with both hands. “Yes, my lady?”
“Daddy, can we play the basketball game at Packy’s, too?” she asks. “And will you help me like last time? Hold me up high so I can throw the ball in good?”
I nod. “I sure will. I can’t wait.”
And I can’t.
It’s a special night, a night for celebration, and I can’t help but feel like something is shifting in the air. Changing for the better. The girls are a long way from the grieving “finish line,” if there even is such a thing, but they’re getting stronger every day.
Clover’s helping them so much. She’s helping me, too.
She’s helping me realize that I’m not frozen inside. I’m still alive, still capable of love, longing, and connection, and maybe…
I shut down the thought, concentrating on reintroducing the girls to Mimi, Grammercy’s stepdaughter, who’s clearly as thrilled about the Packy’s Pizza plan as they are.
She’s a few years older than Ava, but the sweetest kid, and goes out of her way to make the girls feel like friends.
After introducing them to her baby sister, a ridiculously happy little girl with Grammercy’s wife, Elly’s, eyes and his dimpled grin, they run to the window to watch the fireworks exploding over the city.
“Are they for you, Daddy?” Bella asks as we join them.
I grin. “No. They’re practicing for the Super Bowl, I think. It’s tomorrow.”
“All that for football?” Mimi says with such utter disdain that we all laugh, and Grammercy snatches her up, hugging her tight as he says, “That’s my girl, you know what’s what,” in French.
I think that’s what he says, anyway. My French is rusty, and those two semesters of college were a long time ago.
But as Grammercy gathers Elly close with his other arm, whispering something else that makes her blush, I think maybe it’s time to brush up on my French.
And my romancing skills. I can’t put them to use with my nanny, obviously, but sooner or later, I’m going to meet another woman who makes my chest light up, and I want to be ready.
I’m ready to start living again, not simply surviving.
And what better time to start than tonight?