Chapter Eight

Zack

I put on my elbow pad and then my jersey, pulling it up at the sleeves. “You nervous?” Matthew asks me as he grabs his gloves.

“Nah,” I say, and I’m really not. There are no butterflies in my stomach, no big nerves about stepping on my new home ice. It feels like I’ve always been here, like it’s always meant to be here.

“Is Jack out there?” Max asks, and I just nod my head.

“Yeah, I got tickets for him and Sarah,” I tell him, grabbing my own gloves and following them out to the ice. Matthew skates on first and then Max. I skate on, and some of the fans bang on the glass, shouting my name, but I don’t really pay attention to them. Instead, I pay attention to Jack, who is standing by the glass banging on it. He’s never come down to the glass before. He always stayed away from the fans because Chantal hated it. I skate to the glass and see he’s with Michael who’s also banging on the glass, trying to get Max’s attention. Then I look up and standing right behind them is Denise, who beams with pride behind the boys. Her eyes find mine, and I suddenly get the butterflies that shouldn’t be there. The butterflies that I thought were gone are now back. Nerves also come as my palms get sweaty in my gloves.

I don’t even realize I’m staring till Max shoves my shoulder.

“You better keep your eyes on the puck and not on my sister,” he says, and I just look down. When we come back out to skate, I look up at the seat I got for Sarah and Jack and see they aren’t there. I start to panic as I look around when Matthew nudges me and points at one of the boxes.

I look up and see Jack and Michael stand and cheer for us while Denise sits behind them, watching their every move. I look back down and shut it off. I close off everything but the game until the last second of the third period. Only then do I look up and see that Jack is in Denise’s arms, and she’s rocking him. I skate off the ice and head back to the locker room. Taking off my jersey, I wait as the press comes and asks questions. I duck my head and call Sarah as soon as I get some away time.

“Are you still here?” I ask her.

“I am. I’m in Olivier’s office,” she says quietly. “I’m with Denise. Jack fell asleep in her arms, and she didn’t want to wake him.”

“I’ll be right there,” I say, walking out of the locker room shirtless, my skates off and my feet slipped into flip-flops. I walk down the hallway to Olivier’s office, knock once, and then open the door, and for the second time tonight, I’m left speechless as Denise sits in the chair with one foot propped up, her arm wrapped around Jack, and resting on her knee. Her hair twirled around Jack’s finger.

She looks up at me and smiles. “Hey,” she whispers, and then I look around to see where Sarah is, but I don’t find her. “She went to the bathroom.”

“Do you not want to put him down?” I ask her, and she just shakes her head.

“It’s okay.” She smiles at me. “Besides, my hair’s entangled with his fingers, and I don’t want to wake him.”

“I shouldn’t be long, but—” I say and then Sarah comes back into the room.

“Hey,” she says and then points at Jack, “he fell asleep in her arms, and she didn’t want to wake him.”

“That’s okay.” I look at her and then at Denise. “If you really don’t mind waiting till I finish, Sarah, you can go.”

“Are you sure?” Sarah asks, looking from me then to Denise.

“I’m fine. You go ahead,” Denise says as Sarah makes a beeline for the exit. “Take your time,” she tells me, and then I nod at her and turn away.

I don’t take my time. Instead, when I get back into the room, a couple of players are still lingering. Matthew is one of them. “Where did you take off to?” he asks me, unrolling the tape from his socks and throwing the ball into the garbage in the middle of the room.

“Jack fell asleep on Denise,” I tell him, and he starts with the tape on the other leg now. “I just made sure he was okay.”

“There isn’t anyone better to leave your kid with than Denise. I swear she is like the baby whisperer. When Vivi was born, she was fussy, but then after two seconds in Denise’s arms, the kid was fast asleep.”

“Yeah,” I say, finally untying my skates. “Jack hasn’t always had that much attention on him. I mean, I gave him all the attention in the world and so did my parents, but Chantal just didn’t feel the connection she said.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks me with his eyebrows pinched together.

“According to Chantal, she just didn’t have that motherly bond,” I tell him, and I realize how fucking stupid those words sound right now.

“My father was almost like that,” he says, shaking his head. “Jack’s better off without that in his life. Trust me.”

“I’m starting to see that. Now more than ever.”

“We are having Sunday dinner, and Max is coming over with his kids. Why don’t you and Jack come?”

“It’s family dinner on a Sunday; I would hate to impose,” I tell him, and he just smiles.

“You’re part of the team, so that means you’re family.” He smiles, and I just nod my head.

“I’ll text you the address,” he tells me, turning to go shower.

I take a shower and dress, then walk back to Olivier’s office. Opening the door, I take a second to just watch Denise with her head resting on Jack’s head. Her eyes are closed as she holds my son, protecting him. She must feel me staring at her because her eyes flicker open, and she smiles at me. “You caught me resting.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I tell her, coming into the room. The desire to bend down and kiss her knocks me back. I can’t do this. This can’t happen. There are lines, and I’m sure that is one I can’t cross.

“It’s okay,” she says, looking at me. “As a doctor, you learn to sleep even sitting up if you have to.”

I chuckle. “The car is waiting outside,” I tell her. When she stands, I lean in to grab Jack from her, putting his head on my shoulder and watching her walk out before me. “Did you drive here?”

“No”—she shakes her head—“I was going to go to the bar with Vivienne after the game, but she was a no-show. I’m going to just take a cab.” She walks with me down the almost empty hallway.

“We’ll give you a ride to your house,” I tell her. “Max would kick my ass if I made his sister take a cab. Besides”—I look over at her—“I couldn’t possibly do that. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be home already.”

She shrugs and looks down and then up at me again. “I had the best night ever, so we can call it even.”

“Agreed,” I say, pushing the door open and seeing the Lincoln Town Car waiting for us, “after I drop you off safe and sound.”

She rolls her eyes, walking to the car. “Fine.” She walks to the other side of the car while the driver holds the back door open for us. I bend down to get in as she opens the back door, sliding in next to Jack’s car seat. I place Jack in his car seat, trying not to wake him, and he sleeps through me buckling his seat belt.

“Marco,” I say when the driver returns to his seat, “we are driving Ms. Horton home first.”

“No problem,” he says. “Where to?” She gives him the address and then turns to look at me.

“That was a good game,” she says.

“First goal was my fault. I got caught up and left my man open,” I tell her, knowing exactly where I fucked up.

“I don’t think you can take all the blame. It’s a team effort,” she says. “You win together, you lose together.”

I laugh at her. “Spoken like a true supporter.”

“My earliest memories were of the arena. Mom usually let Max take me with him.”

“His own personal cheerleader?” I ask her, smiling, and she just smiles back at me.

“I guess so,” she says, and the car stops in front of a loft building. “This is me,” she says softly. “Thank you so much for the lift,” she says and then leans over and kisses Jack on the forehead. “See you soon,” she says, getting out and closing the car door behind her softly. Marco waits for her to get inside before he drives away.

I close my eyes, basking in the calmness of the night. We’ve been here about two weeks, and not once has Chantal tried to call Jack, not once has he asked for her, and not fucking once did she try. Yet thirty minutes with Jack, and Denise was protecting him. Fuck, it could have been five seconds, and I have no doubt she would protect him with her life.

Growing up, my mother was a stay-at-home mom. The mom who would bake cookies for the class, make homemade Play-Doh, and come in and read with the class. Never not once did she not hold my hand when she got the opportunity. Even when I turned thirteen, she would come sit with me before bed, and I would talk to her about anything and everything. There was no mistaking the love she had for me. It’s the only thing that I wished for whatever children I had, and I thought that Chantal was that person, but I was wrong. I was so wrong.

But in the end, he has me, and I will do whatever I need to do to make sure he doesn’t feel like he’s missing anything. The car comes to a stop, and I open my eyes, unsnapping the car seat from the car. I carry him in my arms attached to the seat, trying not to wake him. “Night, Marco,” I tell him, walking up the steps toward the front door. I struggle with opening the door and holding the seat and Jack in my arms.

I finally make it inside and to his room, undressing him and tucking him in. “Night, buddy,” I say to him and walk out, leaving the door open. Untying my tie, I shrug out of my jacket and make my way to my walk-in closet. I use one foot to take off one shoe and then the other. My phone beeps in my pocket, so I pull it out while I unsnap my belt.

Thank you again for the lift.

I smile and answer her back right away.

How are you not sleeping?

I guess I got a second wind.

Make some warm milk with honey. It always does the trick.

That sounds delish. Thanks.

I don’t bother answering her anymore. My pants drop to the floor, and I step out of them. Standing in my closet in my black Hugo Boss boxers, I shut off the light and walk to the bed. I place the phone on the bedside table and slide into bed. It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep; it also doesn’t take Jack long to come to my bed. When he sits up in the bed the next morning, I turn the television on for him, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep.

He watches Paw Patrol for as long as possible before asking me what’s for breakfast. I roll over and get out of bed, grabbing shorts and walking downstairs to the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?” I ask him as I start the coffee.

“Toast and peanut butter,” he tells me, and I just nod. “Where is Dr. Denise?”

“What do you mean, buddy?” I ask him, grabbing the bread from the pantry and sliding two slices in the toaster.

“I fell asleep with her last night,” Jack says while I pour him some orange juice and then a glass of milk.

“We dropped Dr. Denise off at her house before coming home,” I tell him, and he takes a gulp of his juice. “We were invited to Matthew’s house today. Did you want to go?”

“Is Michael going to be there?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. Maybe. But they have kids too,” I tell him when the toast pops up, and I grab the butter. “Do you think we should go?” I ask him. I butter the toast and stir the peanut butter to get the oil mixed in so I can add that to the toast.

“Okay,” he says, taking a bite of his toast and then wiping the crumbs away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Great,” I say, grabbing my cup of coffee and sitting next to him. “I’ll go text Matthew,” I tell him, going upstairs to get my phone and then ordering another Town Car for us. “I really need a car,” I tell myself, making a note to call the dealer tomorrow. Going back downstairs, I clean up the breakfast dishes while Jack plays with his Legos.

I dress him in jeans and a shirt and grab the same for myself, and we are both ready and waiting by the door at three when the Town Car arrives. The ride to the house is longer than I thought, but Jack closes his eyes for a bit. When we finally get there, I tell Marco I’ll text him about an hour before we are ready to leave.

Going up to the door, I ring the doorbell while Jack and I stand here holding hands. I look down at him and smile when I hear the door locks click, and the last thing I’m expecting is for Denise to open the door, but she does, and if I thought she was beautiful yesterday, it’s nothing like she is now.

Her plain jeans have holes in them down the front, molding to her legs. A white t-shirt is tucked into the waist in the front and a green long button-down shirt hanging open over it with the sleeves pushed up. Her hair is long and loose, but what makes her breathtaking, what make my heart stop, is the smile she has for my son. Not for me but for Jack. It’s a smile that makes your eyes crinkle, a smile that moves your cheeks up, a smile that fills your face. “If it isn’t my favorite man,” she says, bending and grabbing Jack into her arms. That right there makes her the most beautiful woman in the world. She kisses his cheek while he hugs her neck, his hand going to the nape of her neck to twirl her hair in his fingers. She turns and looks up at me, and the smile stays the same—the genuine person she is—displayed for everyone to see. “And my favorite man’s dad,” she says with a smile as she moves out of the way and makes room for me to walk in. For the second time in two days, it takes everything I have not to wrap myself around her like my son. It’s also the second time in two days that I’m jealous of him.