“I hired her.”
I glance over at EJ. “The girl from yesterday?” I’ve already forgotten her name.
“Raelynn, yeah. I went with my gut, so I think she’ll work out even with Jackson.”
I frown in confusion. “Who’s Jackson?”
“Her five-year-old son. She’s a single mom.” He’s stretching on the ice and I wonder why he waited until now, right before a game, to tell me this news.
“Wait a second. She and her son now live with you?”
“Yes, Mom. I trust my gut and my gut says she’s the one. Plus, Bree actually liked her. Bree hasn’t liked any of the other potential nannies. That’s a sign.”
“I hope it works out for you.”
No more talking happens during warmups. Not by me, at least. Soon, I’m standing on the ice and some chick belts out the national anthem. We’re playing the Portland Vikings tonight. For the briefest of moments, I think about Deanna and wish I had time to ask her how things went. She planned to stop by her father’s after work today, but I didn’t get the chance to text her and check in. I mentally berate myself for thinking of her right now. The puck is about to drop and I’m thinking about a woman?
What the hell?
Somehow, I manage to snag the puck and send it backward toward Sergey Orlovsky. Game on. My head is stuffed with the occasional distracting thought of Deanna. There’s a frustration within me from the very beginning that is unhelpful on all accounts. I turnover the puck, which lands on the stick of Hudson King. He battles his way down the ice and scores on Liam Irving.
Down one-zero.
The game continues to fall apart. Passes don’t make it to their intended target. Penalties are taken too often, though I must say I don’t find myself in the penalty box once. The usual chemistry between the Kessy twins is missing completely. People are out of position far too many times than what’s good for us.
At the end of the second, we’re down six to zero. I almost wonder if I’ve cursed the team because I thought about Deanna just before the game. That’s the only change. My hands clasp together and I squeeze, my knuckles crunching together. Coach Mike talks, but it all goes in one ear and floats out the other.
My eyes scan the room, full of tired players from chasing the puck so often tonight. Collin Kessy hunches over, his head between his knees, and he rocks. Cal’s worried eyes flick back and forth between Collin and Coach. Is Collin experiencing another panic attack? In the middle of a game? Is that normal for him?
I’m shit on the ice tonight, but that doesn’t mean I need to be shit off the ice. I stand, walk over to Collin, and tap his shoulder. He glances up at me with wide, panicked eyes.
Keeping my voice low, I say, “Let’s go.” To Cal, I add, “If Coach asks, I’m calming him down.”
They both surprise me. Last time, they didn’t want my help at all. Now, Cal nods and Collin doesn’t hesitate to stand and follow me out of the locker room. We step just outside. I find the soccer ball from earlier. I toss it to him and he tosses it back, but with much more force than I tossed it to him. We go back and forth in silence.
“Is it helping?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, thanks.”
He doesn’t ask to go back in, so I assume he isn’t quite ready.
“This is embarrassing,” he mutters.
“Why?”
“They don’t usually happen during a game. The guys probably know.”
“I doubt that. Even if they did, it doesn’t matter.”
The ball returns to me extra hard. “Why are you being so nice?”
“Am I not usually?”
He shrugs. “Not so talkative and friendly, I guess.”
And doesn’t that make me feel even more like shit. Why am I captain again? Am I the most self-centered hockey player in the league? How’d this happen?
Coach peeks his head out and looks at Collin. “You good, son?”
“Yeah.”
“You two get back in here for a few minutes then.”
The third period struggles on, Collin’s words also stuck in my head now. Savage seems to be the only one working his ass off and it’s paying off. Miraculously, no more goals are scored against us. I’m in a grouchy mood when the game ends. All I want is to go home, climb into bed, and sleep it off.
Deanna’s car is in my driveway. I’m tired and moody as hell; not sure if I can, or want to, deal with her. Getting our asses handed to us will do that. Otis greets me at the door with his entire body wiggling with excitement. I rub his head, wondering where Deanna is.
I find her asleep on the couch with a spiral notebook on her chest and a stack of them on my coffee table. I pick up the notebook on her chest. The handwriting is girly, but easy to read. Fuck, no wonder she came over. It looks like her mother’s diary or something. My blood boils because ninety percent of it is full of complaints about Deanna. I sit on the floor and read with Otis’s head on my leg.
I still don’t understand why Mom left it to her. It should have been mine. Deanna has never been responsible enough to take care of anything. Thank goodness she hasn’t given me any grandkids. I’d probably be raising them.
Deanna has kept the shop up and running well enough, I guess. I don’t know how she has the time with all those men she sees. Meanwhile I’m stuck here, tending to the boring household chores and my husband.
It goes on and on. Occasionally, she talks about something else. Her mother sounds like she was miserable in life. The diary is nothing but complaints.
“What are you doing?” Deanna’s voice is sleepy and accusing.
I glance over my shoulder. “Trying to figure out why you’re here.” I hold up the notebook.
Deanna’s eyes water, filling up and spilling over. “I don’t think she ever loved me,” she whispers. “Why should I even miss her?”
She sits up and I lift myself onto the couch, pulling her into my arms. “I think she was jealous of you.”
“What?” Deanna rears back in surprise. “That makes no sense.”
“She was miserable, Deanna. You were with lots of men, had fun, and had her mother’s shop. Sounded like she wanted your life.”
Deanna leans against me once again, her head in my lap. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Brayden.”
“I know, darlin’. Let’s head to bed; it’s been a long day for us both.”
She sits up and I send her to my room while I take Otis out. She’s already in bed when I get there.
“How was the game?” she asks as I begin to undress.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Does that mean it was bad?”
“Yeah.” I leave her behind for the bathroom. Otis is lying in my spot when I return, eyeing me with a look like I dare you to tell me to move, but he grumbles and moves to lie behind Deanna’s legs as I get closer to the bed. He props his head on her hip, still eyeing me. Deanna grabs my hand once I’m settled.
“I’m sorry about the game.”
“I’m sorry about your mom.” I pull her closer to me. The tension begins to leave my body and I sigh. To think that if Deanna wasn’t having a bad night, she wouldn’t be here and I would be moping about the game by myself. Now, I get to mope with her.
“I’m sorry for showing up without letting you know. At first, I forgot you had a game. I was upset and wanted you. Then, just being here helped. I didn’t want to leave. If you’d rather me not be here, especially since you had a bad game, I can leave.”
“You’re staying.” I tug her closer. “Show up unannounced all you want. I’ll let you know when it’s an inconvenience.”
She laughs softly. “Thanks.”
My phone rings, and I sigh as I reach for it. Who the fuck is calling me? I relax when I see that it’s my mom. Occasionally, she’ll call me late because she thinks it’s the only time I can talk to her. Or, she’s forgotten something and she’ll call late so she won’t forget the next day.
“Hey, Mom. What’d you forget?”
“You’re in a good mood for how that game went. I’m surprised you’re still awake.”
“I’m trying to sleep, but it hasn’t happened yet.” No need to mention that my mood has improved slightly by seeing Deanna. My gaze moves over to her. She’s turned onto her back and now Otis has his head on her stomach, enjoying her rubbing behind his ears.
“Well, I’ll try to make this quick. You’re on a Canadian swing during Thanksgiving, so what’s the plan?”
Mom does not skip out on Thanksgiving. If I’m out of town, she flies to me and we eat together. But glancing down at Deanna, I wonder what she’s doing for Thanksgiving.
“Give me a second, Mom.” I press the mute button and tap my fingers against Deanna’s arm. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Nothing. Working, probably. I haven’t decided yet.” She nudges Otis away to turn and cuddle against my side. He huffs and moves to the foot of the bed.
“Want to have Thanksgiving with my mom? I’ll be on the road, but—”
Deanna’s nails dig hard into my skin as she pushes herself up. “What?”
“Yes or no? She’s waiting on an answer. You can say no; she’ll just meet me, but I figured that maybe you didn’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to be by yourself.”
“That’s sweet, Brayden, but meeting your mom?” Her brows pull together with uncertainty.
“It wouldn’t be like that. Just someone to spend the day with.”
“You don’t want to spend Thanksgiving with her?”
“Rather you have someone to spend it with.”
She nods. “Okay then.”
I unmute the phone and try to figure out how to tell this to my mom. “Mom?”
“I’m still here. Are you with someone or something? What’s going on? I thought you were at home.”
“I am. A girl is with me, though.”
Mom gasps. “A girl?”
“Mom, my point is that I wanted to ask if you wanted to have Thanksgiving with her instead? She would be spending Thanksgiving alone otherwise.”
“Absolutely!” Mom hurries to answer. “But why can’t we both fly up to see you and eat together?”
“Oh, yeah. That’ll work. I’ll email the details once I have them. Can I get some sleep now?”
“Yes. I feel better knowing what we’re doing. I can’t wait to meet this girl of yours.”
“She’s not mine,” I correct. “Night, Mom.” To Deanna as I put my phone away, I say, “Do you have a passport?”
“Yes, though I’ve never used it. I was planning to go on a cruise with some friends, but then my grandma died. Anyway, the answer is yes.”
“Good. I’m flying you both to Canada. Keep any comments or objections for morning. I’m fucking tired.”
I’m ridiculously satisfied when she relaxes against me and falls asleep a few minutes later.
In the morning, my alarm goes off extra early. I quickly turn it off. Deanna rolls over, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip out of bed without disturbing her. Otis lifts his head, but I rub him behind the ears, and whisper, “Go back to sleep.” An early morning run is always called for after a loss. At least for this one. I need to clear my head.
First, apparently, Deanna, Mom, and I are having dinner together the night before Thanksgiving in Canada. We actually have a game on Thanksgiving Day. That should be interesting. I need to call my travel agent and have her get everything booked for me. I’m sure I’ll have to field questions from my mom between now and then about Deanna. We’ll have to talk at some point, so I can set her straight and she can have realistic expectations. She sounded entirely too excited on the phone last night.
Secondly, more than ever, it’s clear that I should be a better teammate and leader. How to fix that? I’m not sure. Do more things like I did with Collin. Change my personality to at least appear friendlier and approachable. I don’t know how to fucking do that, though.
“Brayden?”
I pause the treadmill, turn around, and see Deanna. Her eyes are squinted and she rubs one of them. Now that she’s no longer underneath the covers, I can see that the shirt she’s wearing is one of my Carolina Rebels T-shirts. That makes sense; she didn’t come over with plans to stay. She’s looks fucking hot too.
“What are you doing?”
“Morning run,” I answer.
“Why?”
“Why are you up?” I ask her, opting out of explaining my routines.
“I went to cuddle with you, but was met with a wet nose.”
I laugh as I imagine her rolling over and running into Otis. “I’m sorry.”
Her fingers play with the hem of my shirt, her legs shifting her weight, and her eyes bounce around the room. She seems stunningly vulnerable at the moment. “Will you come back to bed?”
I turn off the machine and follow her back to my room. “Let me take a quick shower.”
“Can I join you?” The vulnerability is replaced with a devilish smirk. My fingers wrap around her wrist and I haul her to the bathroom with me.