Chapter 7

Marek

“This may be the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” I tell Holt as I look at the three sledgehammers lying on his kitchen counter. They’re flanked by crowbars.

“It’s a great idea,” Holt insists. “I mean, what could be more fun that helping me destroy my kitchen?”

“Spending time with Josie,” Reed mutters as he picks up a sledgehammer to test the weight in his hands.

Of course he’d say that. He’s all in love for the first time in his life and has stars in his eyes.

What a fool.

I pick up a sledgehammer myself, get a good two-handed grip, and tap it lightly against the side of one of his cupboards. “So you just want us to knock the shit out of these things, huh?”

“Pretty much,” he says with a grin. “We’ll work out our aggressions. We’ve been far too sedentary this summer.”

This isn’t true. We’ve all hit the gym diligently during the off-season, but he’s just trying to get us riled up so we’ll start swinging.

Holt Craig came to the Cold Fury last February just before the trade deadline. He’s an incredibly talented center who has been waylaid by injuries the last several seasons. He played most recently for the Dallas Mustangs, but after coming back from his injuries, he lost his first-line position. He was ripe for a trade deal, and Gray Brannon has proved time and again she knows how to pick diamonds in the rough. I can’t wait to see what this guy does for the team.

On a personal note, I was happy to see Holt come to the Cold Fury, as we played in college together at Boston College. He left school for the pros after our freshman year, while I stayed all four years to get my degree. We had a good working relationship and an even better friendship we’ve maintained long distance over the years.

Holt bought an old farmhouse as soon as he moved here and wants to renovate the entire thing. The kitchen is his first project. I’d told him he was stupid to sink money into this place when he could easily be traded to another team next year. He just shrugged and said, “What else do I have all this money for if not to spend it? Besides, it will be like an investment.”

I have to admit, there’s some appeal to beating the shit out of these kitchen cabinets.

I woke up this morning with a raging headache and total regrets over the amount of booze I’d consumed. I’m hazy on the details, but I know I wanted to kiss Gracen last night, and that was about as stupid as it comes.

I was mortified at myself this morning for my lack of self-control where she’s concerned, so when Holt texted me to come over for some demolition fun, it was an easy escape for me. I heard Gracen and Lilly moving around upstairs, so I just threw some clothes on, left a quick note on the fridge that I’d be gone during the day, and hightailed it out of there.

Not the bravest thing in the world, but I’m so twisted up in my feelings that I need some time to process.

“You seriously couldn’t hire people to do this?” Reed asks Holt as he rests the hammer portion of the tool on the tile floor and leans his weight against the handle. I’d invited Reed to come along today, figuring I could put some time in mending our relationship. He wasn’t overly thrilled, but he also wasn’t going to say no to helping a new teammate out.

“My interior designer had hired a company to do this, but they had a scheduling conflict,” Holt says as he grabs the last sledgehammer off the counter. “I’ve got new flooring to be installed in two days, so everything needs to be out of here by then. Besides, again…fun. We get to demolish shit.”

“All right,” I say, shoring up my grip on the handle. “Let’s fucking do this.”

“Let’s do it,” Holt says with an evil sort of laugh. He steps over to a set of cabinets on a short wall that sits between his pantry and double oven. It has floating cabinets above a built-in desk.

Just as he starts to swing, a female voice calls out from the front door. “Helloooo. Holt…are you home?”

Holt tries to halt his swing, bobbles the sledgehammer, and it tumbles out of his hands. The heavy iron end falls onto his foot and he yells, “Fuck.”

Reed and I both snicker, but then straighten up tall when an amazingly beautiful woman walks into the kitchen. Her eyes go straight to Holt, who is muttering curses and limping around in circles.

“I told you to let me hire someone to do this,” the woman says in a throaty purr of a voice. Reed and I stand up a little straighter.

She’s tall, at least five ten and with curves in all the right places. Fashionably dressed in a white wraparound dress that hugs her—also in all the right places—with a pair of black heels that have to be at least four inches high. Her hair is a brilliant shade of red and her eyes are pale green.

Witchy eyes.

Holt shoots the woman an exasperated look and then throws his thumb at her. “That’s Ellerie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say as I lean forward and extend a hand to her. She shakes it and her grip oozes confidence and poise.

The smile I get back is warm and genuine. “Back at you, Marek Fabritis.”

“A hockey fan, huh?”

She releases my hand and nods while reaching across to Reed to shake his. “Big fan. Huge. And good to meet you too, Reed Olson.”

“Likewise,” he returns to her with an amused expression.

Holt sits the sledgehammer on the ground, leaning it up against the desk. He turns to Ellerie and asks, “What are you doing here today? Didn’t think you’d be by.”

“I’ve got a few more fabric samples to look at for the sunroom,” she says with a breezy wave of her hand. “I’m on my way to another client’s house not far from here and thought I’d just stop by.”

While I know demolishing shit is preferable to studying at fabric samples, Holt levels Ellerie with a huge smile. And why wouldn’t he? She’s a knockout. “Let’s have a look at them then.”

Reed and I glance at each other with matching smirks because looking at fabric samples is about as anti-Holt as you can get.

“The cases are in my car.” Ellerie turns away from him to head into the living room and back out the front door, showing me that she’s very, very comfortable in his home. Holt follows like a love-struck zombie.

Very fucking interesting.

“I wonder if he’s banging her,” Reed says in a low voice.

Shaking my head, I put my sledgehammer back into a two-handed grip. “No way. He looks like an adoring puppy right now. Carnal knowledge has not been acquired.”

Reed chuckles. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am,” I say knowledgeably. “Now let’s get started. I’m dying to smash stuff.”

“There’s a job opening at the hospital,” Reed says in an abrupt change of. “Josie is going to call Gracen today about it.”

I lower the sledgehammer back down to the ground, resting the heavy steel head on the tile floor. “What’s the job?”

“It’s not neonatal, but it is in labor and delivery,” Reed says with a shrug. “Josie figured she’d be interested to get her foot in the door.”

Huh. While I’ve been satisfied with Gracen living in my home and me covering expenses, there is an upside to her getting a job. It means she’ll be more permanently affixed to this area. The downside is she won’t be dependent on me, and the thought of her leaving the house is unsettling.

Not because I necessarily want her around.

Liar.

But because that would give me more time with Lilly.

And while I may have no fucking clue what I want with Gracen, I know for sure I want something with Lilly. I’m still completely out of my element with her, but the more time I spend around her, the easier it gets.

This morning, she came downstairs before Gracen did, and it was clear she had dressed herself. Her shirt was on backward, and while I’m no expert, I’m pretty sure lime green pants with little pink hearts don’t go with a navy blue striped T-shirt.

I pointed out that her shirt was on backward and she actually gave a little frustrated growl. It took me aback for a moment because I thought, Why is this little girl having to dress herself, which is clearly causing her frustration?

Maybe they were daddy genes rearing their head, but I felt affronted and protective of Lilly all at once. Nothing unusual at all that the first person I got mad at was Gracen, because she was clearly upstairs still and couldn’t be bothered to help her daughter out.

“Here, let me help you,” I offered Lilly with my hands outstretched, prepared to pull her shirt off and put it on correctly.

At the same time, Gracen made an appearance in the kitchen and Lilly said to me, “I can do it.”

Gracen had a fond smile on her face as she watched Lilly struggle to take off the shirt. I observed a moment before stepping in to help her, and Gracen gave a quick shake of her head at me. “Let her do it herself.”

My jaw tightened and I moved back from Lilly. I watched as she ungracefully but with fierce determination got the shirt off. She looked inside to locate the tag in the back, her little tongue peeking out as she concentrated. It’s something I do as well—stick my tongue out when I’m concentrating on something. You can see me do it on the ice every time I have a breakaway. There’s no describing the feeling I got as I realized she probably inherited that from me, because Gracen never had that little quirk.

Lilly then put the shirt on correctly and beamed up at her mom. “I did it.”

“You are all kinds of awesome,” Gracen said as she bent over to kiss Lilly on the top of her head. She then walked into the living room and turned on the TV. “You can watch Paw Patrol while I make you some pancakes.”

“Can I watch Barbie?” Lilly quipped.

Gracen responded with a crisp, “Absolutely not,” and I had to think that Barbie must not have been a suitable show for our daughter.

I followed Gracen into the kitchen, and while she made herself a cup of coffee, I sidled in closer to her. In a low voice, I said, “So you don’t dress our kid in the morning?”

It came out menacing and defensive. Gracen merely arched her eyebrow at me in question.

“She’s only three years old,” I muttered.

“Three and a half closing in on four and has been dressing herself for months,” Gracen said proudly. “It makes her feel good to do things for herself and frankly, it’s my job to make her independent.”

The force of her words slammed into me so hard I took a step back. I know so little of parenting that I made a judgment call about Gracen’s ability without clearly knowing what the fuck I’m talking about. It’s so new to me, being a dad, that I want to do everything for Lilly because I never got to do anything for her.

Gracen however is actually “raising” her. Helping her to grow up.

All I could do was mutter, “Got it,” and then I turned away from her. I declined her offer to make me some pancakes too, and was only all too glad to slink out of my house to come help Holt. Clearly I had a lot to learn.

It’s why busting shit up at Holt’s house appealed to me. I could take out my frustrations in a physical way.

“Think she’s going to stay for the long haul?” Reed asks.

I give a little shake of my head to clear my thoughts. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Reed shrugged his shoulders. “The better question is why would she?”

“Because she knows not to fuck with me,” I growl back at him. “I won’t let her keep Lilly away from me.”

The softening of Reed’s face puts me on edge. He’s been antagonistic to me since I brought Gracen and Lilly here, being the one person who is calling me on my shit. The fact he’s looking at me empathetically bothers the shit out of me.

“What?” The defensive tone in my voice lets him know just how much he’s wigging me out.

“You can’t stop her from going back,” Reed says softly. “You may think you could win a custody battle, but you can’t. No judge is going to take Lilly away from Gracen and give her to you when you travel ten out of twelve months a year. You’re smart and you know that, so you need to let that threat go and figure out how to make her want to stay.”

A feeling of panic rises up within me as I realize what Reed says is true. I’ve been all bluster with my threats to Gracen and it’s worked so far in putting her right where I want her. But Reed is right: I can’t parent Lilly full time on my own. Gracen and her career as a nurse makes her a far more stable option for our daughter.

Jesus.

“Might I suggest you be nice to Gracen,” Reed says offhandedly. “Give her a reason to want to stay. You two don’t have to be friends, you only have to be civil to each other around Lilly. She’ll stay and you’ll be able to get to know your daughter in the time that you have available during the season.”

Another crushing weight pushes down on my shoulders.

The hockey season.

Training camp starts next week. Travel starts the week after that. My opportunities with Lilly will be scarce, and for the first time in my adult life, I think there is something more important than hockey to me.

A flash of guilt hits me that I didn’t feel that way when I broke things off with Gracen. I was young and wanted freedom. I wanted to do my own thing. Would I still have felt that way if I knew she was pregnant? I hope to fuck not, but who I am today isn’t who I was back then.

This is a disconcerting thought, because the images in my mind as I think about how to manage time with Lilly and career aren’t just of Lilly. I imagine Gracen in my kitchen cooking pancakes for both Lilly and me, or Gracen and Lilly at one of my games.

I shake my head hard in denial of what this all might mean to me.

Reed’s comment about me being nicer to Gracen hangs heavy in the air. I don’t feel like addressing it because I know he’s right and he knows I know he’s right. No sense in hashing it out.

“I hear what you’re saying,” I admit to him. “And I’m working on the anger thing with Gracen.”

Jesus…last night I wasn’t angry at all with her. Last night I wanted to be buried inside her body.

Reed nods at me, his eyes expressing he’s done meddling in our lives. But he’s not done talking. “So how’s it going with you and Lilly?”

I shake my head with a small smile. “That kid is amazing, and I’m trying to figure out how to communicate with her. She’s so little I think she doesn’t know much, but she’s smart as shit. Sometimes it’s like talking to a miniature adult.”

Chuckling, Reed leans back against the counter. “You’ve got a lot of fun times ahead of you, brother.”

“I think so,” I say neutrally. I’m afraid to even think that way, as I’m still pretty much scared shitless because I have no clue what I’m doing.

“When are you going to tell everyone?” Reed asks.

I groan and look up to the ceiling. “Shit, man. I don’t even want to have to deal with that. I’ll have to tell the team, of course. And my parents. I’ve been trying to figure out how to lay this on them.”

Reed scoffs at my hesitation. “They’ll be thrilled, dude. You know that.”

Yes, my parents are going to go nuts when they find out they have a granddaughter. More so because they’re both retired and live here in Raleigh during the cold months. They’ve become official Cold Fury traveling fans and go to most of my games both home and away. My dad was an investment advisor and was damn good at it. He doesn’t have to work another day in his life and now he and my mom would like nothing more than to be full-time grandparents. They won’t be leaving New York to come down here until late November, and I can’t wait that long to tell them. In fact, it’s got to be something I do sooner rather than later, and knowing my parents, they will want to come down immediately and meet Lilly.

I have to figure out how to explain Gracen keeping this from me, though. For some reason, I don’t want them to be mad at her the way I am.

Or was. Not sure I still am.

Fuck, this is confusing, and I’m tired of thinking about it.

Tired of thinking about my anger and how to be a good dad. Tired of thinking about the years I lost with my daughter, and while it doesn’t necessarily tire me out to think about it, I sure as hell would like to forget about the images of me almost kissing Gracen last night.

I would like to stop thinking about her like that completely, but I know it’s probably not likely.

So I pick the sledgehammer back up once again and tell him, “Let’s get this shit knocked out.”

Reed nods in understanding.

This conversation is over for now.