Chapter Seven

Trevor tossed his jersey on the pile, making a face at how gross he felt – and smelt – and blamed his preoccupation with needing a shower for why he didn’t immediately protest when Jetty announced to the locker room that they were having a housewarming.

“Great idea,” Pears said pointedly. “It’s a good chance for team bonding.”

“I dunno, man,” Bars said, with a face. “Not sure I wanna see where Rainer brings his ladies.”

“Fuck you all,” Trevor said, automatically. “There’s no housewarming.”

Panic was starting to settle on his chest. If there was a housewarming, there would have to be introductions, and Trevor still wasn’t sure he wanted everyone on the team to know about Gabrielle. Not that he could hide it for much longer, given how often she asked if she could see Daddy play a game. Trevor felt like a tool for making Nick come up with excuse after excuse for why they couldn’t, but his fear won out every time.

“Listen,” Jetty said, throwing an arm over Trevor’s shoulder. His voice was low enough that nobody could overhear. “If you don’t wanna introduce your girl to the guys, that’s fine.”

Trevor looked around the room, at people he had spent years building a relationship with, a cohesive unit on the ice that bled into their off-ice lives. He needed to quit being a coward and tell the guys that he didn’t have ladies in his life, but a very specific lady. “Fine.”

“Great,” Jetty said, raising his voice. “This Saturday, Rainer’s house, housewarming.”

“I guess,” Trevor said, swallowing thickly, before blurting it out. “It would be a great time for you guys to meet my daughter.”

There was a long, pointed silence, and then the guys all started talking at once. There were congratulations, exclamations, and the occasional backslap. Pears’ lips were quirked up, eyes soft, and damn, Trevor didn’t need Pears making him well up. He hated how easily he’d always been prone to crying, and shook it off, tilting his chin.

Adam, their resident crime enthusiast, and Trophy-winning defenseman settled back in his locker. “Who’d you manage to knock up?”

That was the part of the conversation Trevor really didn’t want to get into. “Just the daughter,” he stressed. “No lady to tie me down, guys, you know that.”

Jetty and Pears exchanged a pointed look, and Adam had an expression of understanding, but Trevor deliberately ignored it all and headed for the showers. The less he had to explain about Gabrielle’s beginnings the better, and Trevor was not interested in telling a parade of people why he was so bitter about not having her in his life until now.

By the time he’d finished in the shower, dried himself off, and decided to face the rest of the locker room, it was mostly empty. Jetty was still there, despite Trevor knowing he wanted to get home to his family, and Pears – unsurprisingly – but Haddy and Richards were also there, the last two people Trevor would have suspected.

“Uh,” he said, grabbing for his briefs and pants. “Is there a reason you’re lying in wait for me?”

Jetty snorted. “The dad contingent wants to talk to you, Rainer.”

“So why are you here?” Trevor asked Pears, a little heated.

“I’m the captain,” Pears said, predictably.

“Whatever,” Trevor muttered, jamming his t-shirt over his head with more viciousness than the situation warranted. “Get it out of your systems.”

Haddy sighed. He and Trevor didn’t know each other all that well. They had joined the team at the same time, but Haddy was a veteran of the game where Trevor was a rookie. Haddy was a father, Trevor was an eternal bachelor. Or had been. “This isn’t an intervention, Rainer.”

“So what is it?” Trevor shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t need advice, I don’t need sympathy. It’s a housewarming where you’re meeting my daughter.”

Richards looked unimpressed with Trevor’s attitude. “You can always use advice, even when your children are older.”

Richards’ boys were both in their early teens, and Trevor would have appreciated his advice at any other time, but he was backed into a corner by Jetty, and though it had been his decision to reveal Gabrielle to the guys, he didn’t have to accept the reality right now. He was probably in shock or something, trying to fight against the urge to flee.

“Look,” Trevor said and ground the palms of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about this. At all. Not because I don’t love her,” he amended, turning around. Haddy and Richards were regarding him neutrally. Jetty’s expression was hard to interpret, and Pears had his captain face on. It wasn’t helping Trevor determine why they were so keen to bestow advice on him. “I don’t wanna talk about it because it’s nobody else’s business. I’m a single father to a three-year-old daughter. I have a nanny because I’m out of the state more than I’m in it, and I feel like a dick.”

“That,” Haddy said, “is why we’re here. The three of us, Rainer, we’ve all been there. We know what it’s like to feel bitter and angry about leaving the kids behind.”

Trevor sighed, dropping onto the bench at his locker. “Every time she asks me to stay, I feel like a terrible father.”

“You think we don’t feel that?” Jetty said, sounding serious for the first time since they’d come off the ice. “I have two beautiful daughters that cry when I have to fly away from them. It never gets easier, Rainer. It just gets more important to appreciate the moments you have with them.”

“I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” Trevor said, staring at each of them turn. “Think maybe it would be better if–”

“It’s a balance,” Richards interrupts. “Is hockey worth it, are they worth it, which would be best? The answers aren’t easy, you will probably never know which is right, but you have to live with the decision you make.”

Trevor wanted Gabrielle to be happy and loved. He would give up hockey in a heartbeat if she wanted him to. But hockey was everything Trevor had wanted, did want, for his life, and the idea of giving it up made him feel nauseous. “It should be an easy decision.”

“The kids should win out?” Haddy said. “It’s not always that easy. You want them to have a good life, and to not resent you.”

“But you only get a certain amount of time in the show,” Jetty added. “You take it while you have it and whatever will be, will be.”

Trevor sighed. “I’m 24. Retirement isn’t even up here yet,” he said, waving a hand at his forehead.

“It shouldn’t be.” Jetty stood, leaning down to rest a hand on Trevor’s shoulder and squeezing. “I promise you, Trevor. If she starts to hate you for disappearing, you’ll know it’s time to quit the game. Until then, you have us around to talk to, all right? We’re there right now, we understand.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trevor groused because he was uncomfortable and needed to get the hell out of the locker room before he actually started crying. “As if I want advice from your lame ass.”

The tension in the room seemed to ease, and both Haddy and Richards clapped Trevor on the shoulder with their own offers of help before fleeing the locker room. Jetty was more ridiculous with his offer, ruffling Trevor’s hair and Trevor ducked away, kicking Jetty in the shin.

“Watch the playmakers, Rainer,” Jetty said as if his legs were where his skill was at.

Trevor waited for him to leave the room, before turning to Pears, who had been mostly silent. He regretted his outburst about Pears’ lack of children meaning he was ill-advised to give advice. “You’re a good captain.”

Pears snorted. “Thanks. I know you mean that, otherwise I’d deck you right now.”

Wincing, Trevor rubbed at his jaw. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You know how close I came a couple of years ago to losing this,” he waved a hand at the locker room. “Now I have a daughter and a new house and it’s all just…”

Silence fell over them, but Pears crossed the room, dropped down onto the bench next to him. “You used to be such a pain in my ass,” he said, sounding amused more than irritated, so Trevor didn’t take offense. “But you fought to turn your life around, Trevor. You should be proud of yourself, and with where you are. This doesn’t have to be a big thing if you don’t want it to be. I have no doubt that you’re an amazing father, and the fact that you have a nanny, an actual house instead of a bachelor pad, and you’re thinking about what’s best for her, is fucking impressive, Rainer.”

“Thanks,” Trevor said absently. There was a lot in his past he wasn’t proud of, and Pears had maintained a ringside seat for most of it. He was a damned good captain and had pretty much dragged Trevor out of the gutter. “You’re responsible you know.”

“Fuck off,” Pears said, good-naturedly, but he was smiling down at his shoes. “You did the work.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said, dragging out the word. “But behind every hard-working hockey player, is a captain who, you know, isn’t half bad.”

Pears snorted, socking Trevor in the arm. “Get the fuck home, Rainer, and make sure you’re at practice tomorrow.”

“Yes captain, my captain.” Trevor gave Pears a mock salute and ducked out of the way of another punch. Leaving the locker room, bag over one shoulder and phone in hand, the prospect of opening his home to the team wasn’t quite as daunting as it had been.