Chapter 22

A week later they were back in Chicago, playing game seven of the series.

They’d done it—they’d won the last three games to keep their hopes alive. Tonight was do or die for both teams—whoever won moved on to the next round of the playoffs.

Jodie and Zyana were there to watch, even though Jade said she was absolutely sure it wouldn’t be their last game.

And weirdly, Nick had a feeling in his gut. Things were falling into place for the team. Scottie had slid into that fourth line and played his heart out. Things were clicking. Nick didn’t like to thank the Hockey Gods for how things were going, because if you couldn’t blame anyone else when you were losing, it made sense that you couldn’t give credit to anyone else for winning.

They’d done it.

And he felt a bone-deep confidence that they would do it again tonight.

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

It was almost anticlimactic that they took a three-one lead in the first period. Then they got a stern lecture about not sitting back, about not getting too comfortable. They still had to fight.

The score was five-two at the end of the second period.

I knew it. Nick sucked air into his lungs as he stood on the ice for the puck drop to start the third period. I knew it. I can do it.

He imagined Aleks watching and knew Jodie was right. Aleks would be cheering him on, telling him to dig in the corners, feed the puck to Army. His focus was tight. Every sense seemed heightened. He saw the puck on Pilker’s blade as he skated toward the Minnesota net. He knew Pilker was going to pass it to him. He had an open lane right to the empty net as the goalie squared off facing Pilker. Nick drew back his stick and shot it as it slid over to him…a rocket straight into the Minnesota goal.

The horn blared, the crowd leaped to their feet with a roar, and the Aces’ goal song, Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” blasted. He lifted his stick in the air and was mobbed by his teammates.

Six-two.

They had this. And yet, once again, they needed to stick to the game plan.

The Wild weren’t going down without a fight. In the last minutes of the game they pushed hard, putting pressure on the Aces’ defense. They battled hard, but even with the extra player and the Wild goalie out of the net, the Aces shut them down…blocking shots, taking the body, and with only seconds left in the game, clearing a rebound all the way to the other end of the ice…and into the empty net.

Seven-two.

The horn sounded to end the game. The crowd had been on their feet clapping and cheering for the last three minutes. The Moen’s Center was going crazy, and it was mayhem on the ice too as the players all piled on one another in celebration.

Unlike the regular season, when the losing team would have made a quick exit to the dressing room, the Wild had to stay on the ice for the traditional handshake, one of hockey’s best customs, in Nick’s opinion. He moved along the line, shaking hands, slapping the shoulders of players he knew better, embracing Chubbs, who’d been a teammate in college. “Nice hit earlier, asshole,” he said to Chubbs, who gave him a wry smile and slapped his back.

Tonight, Jodie knew to meet him in the lounge after the game. He showered and dressed quickly, spoke briefly to some of the media—he wasn’t an in-demand player like their popular captain and guys like Army and Rupper, and now Chaser and Brick—and headed across the hall to the lounge.

He found Jodie on one of the leather sofas, Zyana asleep on her lap. Kendra sat in a chair adjacent to them. Jodie smiled at him as he walked toward her and all he saw was her face, so beautiful, her smile luminous, her eyes warm.

He stopped in front of her.

“I’d jump up and hug you, but…” She glanced down at the sleeping child.

“You can hug me later.”

“Oh, I will.” She beckoned him closer with her hand.

He bent lower.

Glancing at Zyana, she whispered in his ear, “You have no idea how turned on it makes me, watching you play hockey.”

His chin jerked down. Heat radiated through his chest at her words. “Really?”

She nodded, holding his gaze.

“Well, that works out great, because I’m horny as hell right now too.” He brushed his mouth over her cheek in front of her ear. He straightened and said louder, “We’d better get this little princess home to bed.”

He caught Kendra’s knowing smirk as he reached for Zyana and lifted her into his arms. Zyana’s eyes fluttered, and she smiled when she saw him. “Nick.” She set her little hand on his cheek. “You have face fur.” Then she snuggled into him.

More warmth softened his heart. “Not sure if she likes my playoff beard.” He held out a hand to Jodie and pulled her up off the couch.

She picked up her jacket and purse sitting beside her. “Night, Kendra.”

Kendra rose and hugged Jodie, whispering something to her.

It was his turn to smirk, and he lifted an eyebrow at the women as they turned to him.

Jodie coughed. “Okay, let’s go.”

They headed out, waving good night to the others. He led the way to the parking garage where he’d left his vehicle, and they were soon on their way home.

Zyana fell asleep again in her car seat in the back, and Jodie chattered away about the game. She was even more excited than he was about the win.

“So when does the next series start?” she asked.

“Wednesday. We only have two days off, since we went all seven. Every other series was done in six games at the most.”

“And you play St. Louis.”

“Right.” He grimaced. “In St. Louis. They finished in five games so they’ve had a few days’ rest. That’s not always a good thing though. You can get rusty not playing.”

“Do you practice tomorrow?”

“We have an optional skate in the morning. We leave on Tuesday.”

“And you play two games there, right? Wednesday and Friday.”

Her need to know every detail amused him. “Yeah.”

“You guys played so well!” That was about the tenth time she’d said that.

“Felt good out there.”

She slouched back in her seat and blew out a breath. “It was so exciting. I’m glad it’s over. I’m exhausted.”

He laughed. “I’m the one who was playing.”

“Okay, you’re probably more exhausted than I am. Also you got hit hard a few times. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Few bruises and sore muscles, but that’s par for the course.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I guess.”

“I’ll get some therapy tomorrow.” He exhaled long and slow. “I’m glad it’s over too. And fuck…we won!”

She set her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “I knew you would. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Yeah.” She totally had. “I’m also going to need a blow job the morning of every home game. Pretty sure that’s what did it.”

She choked on a laugh. “Nick!” She glanced back at Zyana.

“She’s asleep.”

She was. “Game-day blow jobs it is, then.”

---

They won the next round in four straight games. Nick was pretty sure the blow jobs helped.

They were in the zone, working as a team. Some of their injured players were able to return to the lineup. The mood in the room was jubilant. Confident. Determined.

Finishing early meant they had a few much-needed days off to rest and recuperate. Nick would have liked to spend that time with Jodie, and he did take her antiques shopping one afternoon, Jodie playing hooky from work while Zyana was still at daycare. One store they went into was a high-end shop with attractively arranged furniture and knickknacks.

“Oh wow.” Jodie stopped to peer at a shelf. “Look at this.”

Nick bent to look. It was two elephants facing each other, a big one and a small one, with their trunks curled around each other in a way that looked…loving.

Jodie picked it up reverently. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen one like this.”

Nick pursed his lips.

“Did you know that elephants are very social creatures?” She glanced up at him. “They hug by wrapping their trunks together, like this. To show affection. I think this is a mother and child.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s true!” She stroked a finger down the back of the smaller animal. “They’re very sensitive and caring. If a baby elephant is hurt, the whole family will go over and comfort it. They also grieve when other elephants die. I wonder how much this is.” She turned it over to look for a sticker. “Oh Jesus.”

“How much?”

“A thousand dollars.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I know.” She sighed.

“That’s a Garbini sculpture,” the store clerk offered.

Jodie bit her lip and glanced at Nick. “I have no idea who that is,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Me either. Must be good though, to charge that much.”

With her bottom lip pushed out, she set the sculpture back on the shelf. “I can’t afford that. It is beautiful though.”

They grabbed a drink at a nearby bar before going to pick up Zyana, then ordered pizza in for dinner.

Later, after Zyana was in bed, they watched a movie on Jodie’s couch.

“Are you sure about looking after her tomorrow and Friday?” she asked.

She had to fly back to New York on business, a quick one-night trip. Kendra was going too, so she couldn’t look after Zyana. Jodie’s original plan had been to take Zyana with her and hopefully find one of her old friends who could take care of her for a few hours while they had their business meetings. Shockingly, Nick had found himself offering to stay with her, since he was between games.

“Yeah, sure. We’re buds now.”

“Yeah.” Her lips curved up. “You are. Hopefully she’ll behave herself.”

“It’ll be fine. It worked out great for timing. I’ll take her to daycare in the morning while I go to practice and pick her up early. We’ll go to Cheesie’s for supper.”

“Her favorite place. I’ve made arrangements at the daycare for you to pick up and drop off.”

“I won’t even take her to daycare on Friday if we have a day off. We’ll do something fun.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. She’s a cool kid.”

“What are these words coming out of your mouth?” She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “This is the man who once told me he hates kids.”

“I still do.” His lips twitched. “Other people’s kids.”

She shook her head slowly, eyes alight with amusement. She moved her fingers and leaned in to replace them with her mouth, kissing him soft and slow. “Thank you. That really helps me out.”

“Anytime.”

She stroked his beard. “I’m not sure I like this. It’s getting straggly.”

“I know.” He rubbed his hairy chin. “But it’s tradition. Gotta keep it up until we’re done.”

“God. It’ll be down to your navel by the end of the playoffs.”

He snorted. “It’s the beginning of May. Could be another month at the most.”

“I can’t believe you play hockey in June. That’s crazy.”

He shrugged. “I hope I’m playing hockey in June.”

“Ha. Okay, me too.”

---

He got Zyana to the daycare successfully, although she seemed slow moving this morning and not quite her usual cheery self. Maybe she wasn’t a morning person. Probably too young to give her coffee though.

Their practice was light again, most of the time spent working out and then getting some rehab on nagging injuries. He had a hamstring that was bugging him on his left leg, and he gritted his teeth as Tony stretched it out, pushing hard on his thigh, trying to relax through the pain.

After practice, they ate lunch in the players’ lounge area, enjoying the chicken parmesan, pasta, and salad. The atmosphere was relaxed, and yet there was an underlying tension. They’d been playing great, but the pressure was building. The stakes got higher with each round, and the teams got better. They were playing Anaheim in the next round, a team they hadn’t been able to beat all year.

He picked up Zyana at four o’clock. “She’s really tired,” the daycare worker told him. “Hopefully she’s not coming down with something.”

Jesus. “Yeah, hopefully not. How’re you doing, princess?”

Her eyes looked heavy. “Tiwed.”

“Yeah. You still want to go to Cheesie’s?”

“Yes.” She didn’t seem excited, but she gave a determined nod of her little chin.

He ordered her favorite, a grilled cheese sandwich and waffle chips, but she only took a few bites and was uncharacteristically quiet. Since Nick had gotten to know her better, he’d discovered she was as much of a chatterbox as her mom. Luckily, like her mom, she usually had something interesting or funny to say. But not today.

“Feeling okay, sweet stuff?” He eyed her.

“I’m hot.”

“Oh.” He gnawed on the inside of his lip. “We should get you home, I think.”

His gut clenched as he drove home. Christ. He’d been willing to babysit, thinking it would be easy and they’d have fun together. He didn’t know what the hell to do with a sick kid. Hopefully she was just really tired.

He got her ready for bed in her pink pajamas. He picked her up to carry her to her room, and set his hand on her forehead. Was she hot? She felt hot. He felt his own forehead. Jesus. He didn’t know if she was hotter than he was. Did Jodie have a thermometer? Probably. Maybe he should hunt it down.

“Here’s some juice.” He handed her a cup. “I’m going to look in the bathroom for a thermometer and take your temperature.”

She nodded listlessly.

He opened the medicine cabinet and searched through it, then drawers and cupboard. Nothing. He hustled to the other bathroom to hunt and again came up empty.

“Does your mom have a thermometer?” he asked Zyana, who was now lying on her pillow.

“Yes. The ear machine.”

“What?” He frowned. “Okay, hold on.” He marched back to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet again. He grabbed a device and eyed it warily. Was this it? Fuck, he’d been thinking of a little plastic thing he’d stick under her tongue. Pretty sure that was what his mom had used. He was clueless. Hopefully he could figure it out.

“You stick it in my ear,” Zyana told him helpfully, but lethargically.

He bit his lip as he studied the apparatus, then cautiously placed the tip in her ear and pressed the button. It took only seconds for the display to show a hundred and one.

That was high…Normal temperature was ninety-eight point six. Fuck.

And what the hell was he supposed to do about a fever? Fluids?

More googling ensued.

Call your pediatrician if temperature is over a hundred.

Christ. He had no idea who Zyana’s doctor was. Should he call Jodie? He didn’t want to freak her out. She was far away.

He eyed Zyana again. His insides cramped up with nerves.

He read another search result that said not to panic about a fever. The vast majority of time, a fever is nothing serious.

Okay. Good. No panicking. He wouldn’t panic. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

He read on. If your child is older than six months, you can safely wait to contact your doctor until her temperature rises to 103, unless she has two or more of these symptoms: a cough, a sore throat, a runny or stuffy nose, body aches, headaches, chills, fatigue, and diarrhea.

He frowned. Pretty sure she didn’t have diarrhea. She wasn’t coughing. “Does your throat hurt, sweet stuff?”

She shook her head.

No runny nose. “Does your body ache?”

“No.”

“Your head?”

“A little.”

Definitely fatigue.

Apparently these were signs of influenza, which had been prevalent this year. Didn’t seem like she had the flu.

He skimmed through the article. Children’s Advil…Jodie probably had that somewhere. Never give aspirin to a child under sixteen—it can cause Reye’s syndrome, a potentially fatal liver condition.

Jesus Christ.

At least he knew the difference between aspirin and Advil. And knowing Jodie, if it was that dangerous, she probably didn’t even have aspirin in the house.

Back in the bathroom, he located the little bottle of Advil and peered at it for dosage information—one chewable tablet.

He hated this. Not only was he worried about Zyana, he hated being so clueless about what was wrong or what to do.

He should definitely talk to Jodie before giving Zyana medication. He dug out his cellphone and made the call.

“Hey!” Jodie answered after a couple of rings. He could hear noise in the background. She must be still out for dinner with clients. “How are things?”

“Good. Well, Zyana’s not feeling well.” He gritted his teeth at having to tell her that.

“Oh no! Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. Just a little fever. Okay if I give her some Advil?”

“Yes, definitely. The Children’s Advil.”

“Yeah. I found it.” He assured her that Zyana had no other worrisome symptoms and put Zyana on the phone to reassure her even more before they ended the call.

Zyana took the pill, chewed and swallowed, and drank a bit more juice.

“Do you want a cool cloth for your forehead?” Maybe that would help.

“Okay.”

He sat with her for a while, reading her stories while the cloth cooled her off. She dozed off during the third story.

He set the book aside and gently felt her forehead again. Better? Yeah…her fever seemed lower.

He’d assess things in the morning. Hopefully she’d be feeling better. Maybe it was just a cold or something.

Reluctantly, he left her room. He headed downstairs and turned on the TV, which he watched for a few hours until it was time for bed. He checked on Zyana, again feeling her forehead. Seemed like the Advil was helping.

In Jodie’s bedroom, he changed into the pajama pants he wore when sleeping at Jodie’s place. He found himself unable to shut off his thoughts though, worry and doubts circling. Finally he dozed off.

---

“Mommy.”

Nick dragged himself out of sleep and blinked into the darkness, disoriented and confused. Where the hell was he?

“Mommy.” The tearful voice became more insistent, and someone tugged at the bedcovers.

Zyana.

He bolted upright. “Mommy’s not here, sweet stuff. But I am. What’s wrong?”

“My ear hurts.”

His heart lurched. “Okay. C’mere.” He reached for her and lifted her onto his lap gently. “Which ear?”

“Dis one.” She raised her hand to her left ear.

He clicked on the lamp. Her face was tear-streaked and flushed. He touched her forehead again. Hot.

Shit.

“Okay, let’s get you more medicine. That should help.”

He carried her with him to the bathroom to retrieve the Advil, then returned her to bed. “I’ll get you some cold juice. Be right back.”

No need to panic. No need to panic.

He got the tablet into her, along with more juice and another cool cloth, which he used to wipe away her tears, then folded it and laid it on her forehead. She lay back on her pillow and gazed up at him with big eyes. “I want Mommy.”

“I know, sweet stuff.” He touched her hair. “She’ll be home tomorrow. Er, today.”

He considered calling Jodie again, but a glance at the clock told him it was three in the morning in New York. He’d wake her up and scare the hell out of her, when she couldn’t do anything or get here any faster.

Fuck, he wanted Jodie there too, because he was freaking out. But he couldn’t let Zyana know that. He had to be calm and show her he could take care of her.

But could he?

He sucked in a breath and let it out.

“I’ll stay with you,” he said, shifting on the bed. He leaned against the wall and set his hand on her leg. “I’m here.”

She gave a little nod, eyes still huge.

Jesus. Having someone this dependent on you was fucking terrifying.

How the hell did Jodie do it, especially all on her own? She was incredible. So strong.

Zyana’s eyes drooped, and she rolled onto her side. He gently rubbed her back, and once again they both dozed off.

He woke up with cramped muscles, curled on his side at the foot of the bed. He jerked his head up. Zyana was there, still asleep, still pink-cheeked. He moved and gently touched her forehead.

Burning hot.

He closed his eyes briefly. The sun was up so it was morning. He’d have to figure out where to take her. Doctor? Urgent care clinic? Hospital?

On his phone, he googled again and found an urgent care clinic not far away. While he was doing that, Zyana woke up and started crying.

“Ow ow ow,” she sobbed, holding her ear.

He lifted her up, and to his horror, saw a stain on the pillow where her head had been. His heart stopped and then galloped unevenly. Moving her hand, he peered at her ear and saw yellow and red mucous. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted, his stomach lurching.

Zyana cried harder.

Shit, shit, shit. “Sorry,” he muttered. “So sorry. Aw, sweet stuff, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with your ear?”

She didn’t answer, just kept crying. His heart was breaking now, his chest wrenched with agony.

Never mind getting her dressed. Her pj’s were fine. He was a different story.

He dashed into Jodie’s bedroom, where he dressed as if the house was on fire, then grabbed his phone and keys to carry Zyana out, stopping only for her jacket. Wait, her feet were bare. That was no good.

He ran upstairs and found a tiny pair of socks, returned to push her feet into them along with a pair of shoes, then picked her up again. “I’m sorry, sweet stuff,” he said, just about ready to cry himself.

What had happened to her? This was so, so bad.