Jasmeen
Lucas cut across the ice like his father.
Unapologetic in his search of happiness. His hungry gray eyes looked possessed as he dug his skates into the ice and sent his stick forward with intensity. The puck flew through the air and right past the goalie’s hand.
The entire stadium erupted. Even Jess was on her feet. Gavin jumped into the air, happier for that single goal than he was for all of his combined. The man was pure handsome sex. At thirty-eight, he’d found a version of himself he’d always wanted, but could never grasp. His eyes were aflame every day. His grin was earsplitting as he cheered his son on.
There was nothing sexier than him being the father he always yearned for. He ran out on the ice and scooped him up in a hug, twirling Lucas around in all his gear. The team rushed them all, and they were nothing but a pile of pads and hockey sticks.
“Bet it stinks under there,” Jess said, curling up her lip at them.
I giggled, picking her up and settling her on my lap. “Are you excited for your big brother?”
She sighed. “Kind of.”
“I’m super-duper excited!” Garrett shouted, earning the attention from a little girl a few benches over.
I’d noticed her a few hours ago. A man had guided her to her seat, kissed the top of her head, handed her a popcorn, and then took off, and hadn’t come back since.
It concerned me.
She had wide, baby blue eyes, and hair the color of burning wood. This dark brown with a hint of orange. It was pretty, and wild, untamed waves.
She smiled softly at Garrett, no more than his four-years-old, and I could feel her sadness from all the way over here. I knew, because there was a time when I felt that way looking at Gavin. When I was her, I’d wanted to smile as big as Garrett.
Garrett didn’t notice her, and started dancing, much to his sister’s dissatisfaction.
“You look like a fish!” she ridiculed.
Garrett giggled, making the little girl smile a little harder. “Fish sticks are yummy!” He continued dancing. I held my daughter close and laughed at my boy, the life of our world. He had a heart so big, I feared for him. He felt so many things, so raw, I wasn’t sure the world could handle him. He wasn’t like his sister. She was born with an edge to her incredible soul. She was tough and fiery, knowing what she wanted without ever being asked. She’d never be the addict in her love story. She’d be the drug, like her father.
Garrett, on the other hand, had a bit of his mother’s heart, and hearts that big loved ten times harder.
Fell so hard we never wanted to get up.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Mommy loves you.”
“Hey!” Jess growled. “What about your Jessy girl?”
“Oh,” I cooed, holding her close and kissing her face all over. “Mommy loves you, too.”
She gave me a look like damn right, and then returned to watching the game.
When the final buzzard sounded, the Wilders won the championship four to one. Lucas and Gavin were two souls in heaven. The twins and I waited where we were until the crowd thinned.
My heart pounded, and my eyes stung. I looked down at the little girl to find her looking around too. She looked on the edge of tears, and her little pale arms were sprouted in goosebumps. Her lips were blue.
“She looks cold,” Garrett said, and his smile was gone, exchanged for deep concern. “Where’s her mommy?” he asked, looking up at me.
I put my mouth over his ear. “Why don’t you go give her your sweater. Something tells me she’d appreciate it.”
His eyes filled with a strange look. Understanding, maybe? Protectiveness. “What if she doesn’t want it?”
“Don’t give up until she’s warm.”
He nodded determinedly, and then walked down carefully, using the benches for stairs. He sat down beside her, and I saw his lips move. She scooted away, glaring at him. He touched her arm and she crossed her arms over her chest.
But she shivered, and Garrett’s nostrils flared. They sat in silence, but I saw the way they peeked at each other, the way they tried to understand what they were feeling.
I let them be.
“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Jess asked.
“Yes, but it has to be Lucas’s pick. So don’t try to push bubblegum on us. His favorite is chocolate.”
She stiffened. “But bubblegum’s the best. Why wouldn’t you want it?”
“Please don’t do it,” I begged.
She did it anyway.
“Pros and cons. It’s pink. It’s yummy. It’s cold. It’s good. Cons, nothing.” She gave me a hand, and glared icily at me; her father was trapped in her eyes. “I want bubblegum.”
I took great pride in her fire. The intensity of her flames. Jess Cobalt would burn the world down some day. “What if we just have broccoli instead?”
She looked away. “Chocolate’s fine.”
I hid my smile in her hair.
When I looked back down, the little girl was wearing Garrett’s sweater. The sadness in her eyes didn’t look so strong.
Gavin and Lucas took the bleachers, racing up them to get to us.
“We won, Mom!” Lucas said excitedly.
I gave him my cheek, and he pressed a sweaty kiss to it. “You were amazing out there, Luc. Gavin Cobalt who?”
He beamed.
Lucas was obsessed with his father’s stint in the NHL. Wanted to make up for what he lost, wanted to dream a dream his father had suffered for. We stressed for him to find his own dream, but deep down, Gav and I both knew that once hockey was in your blood, it was in for good.
“Where’s Garrett?” my husband asked, taking a seat beside me.
I pointed to him as Jess and Lucas started fighting about bubblegum ice cream. “He gave her his sweater.”
“Uh-oh,” Gav muttered, smiling tenderly.
“I think she’s alone.” I told him about the man and how she’d been alone the entire game. “What do we do?”
“Garrett? Who’s your friend?” Gav asked.
They both looked up, and my son wasn’t smiling. He looked at her, said something, and she nodded reluctantly. He got up, held out his hand, and after a long intense frown, she gave him her little hand, and he led her up the bleachers.
“This is Amanda. She’s four, like me. She can’t find her daddy.”
Gavin paled. “Do you know his number, honey?” he asked.
She shook her head, sliding close to Garrett.
He comforted her. “It’s okay. That’s my daddy. He’s really nice, promise.”
“I can’t remember it,” she whispered, and her little sweet voice broke my heart.
Gav got up and offered her his hand. “Let’s go try to find your daddy, honey.”
She shrunk away from him, and that was when I saw the bruises on her right arm. I felt this intense desire to find whoever hurt her and rip them apart. I hugged my daughter tighter, who was looking at the girl the same way I was.
We wanted to save her.
Jess squirmed down and took her other hand. “My daddy’s safe, promise. I’ll protect you.”
Amanda’s bottom lip quivered.
Gav looked at me, and I nodded.
Six months later, after lawyers and fighting the state, Gavin and I adopted Amanda Mendes from the state of Oregon. Abandoned by her abusive father, she was a broken bird whose wings had been torn to shreds.
She couldn’t fly.
Was too scared to smile.
She didn’t talk to anyone, but Garrett.
I watched my son’s heart become a part of him, the way he looked at her, the intense, consuming attention he placed on her. Her abuse stole his innocence from him.
But I had this funny feeling that love would fix that.
Love was a powerful, addictive force in the right hands.
It saved Gavin, and it healed me.
It gave me my dream.
A forever, with my family.
Love gave me my Superman.