Chapter One

"I hate you! I wish you were dead!"

Aaron Malone schooled his face into an expressionless mask, refusing to let his daughter see how much the words hurt. It didn't matter because Brooke spun on her heels and ran into the house, sliding the patio door behind her with such force, he was surprised it didn't come off the track.

A small hand gripped his, the flesh of the trembling fingers cool against his callused palm. He looked down and saw Isabelle staring up at him with wide eyes that were already filling with tears.

"Daddy?" Isabelle's soft voice shook with uncertainty and a hint of fear. Aaron swallowed back his own hurt and kneeled next to his youngest daughter. He hid the pain the movement caused behind a forced smile and ran his hand through Isabelle's long hair.

"It's okay, Sweet Pea. Brookie's mad at me, not you." No, she was mad at the world and had been since that awful night four months ago when her mother died. But Aaron couldn't say that out loud, not to Isabelle. Not when the ten-year-old had gone through the same nightmare as her sister. Their worlds had been turned upside down, their safe existence shattered when Aaron's ex-wife had been killed in a car crash.

Had they heard the rumors? Did they know it was because she'd been out partying with her latest boyfriend? That they had both had too much to drink, but he decided to drive anyway?

The accident had taken both their lives, leaving behind so much more than the remnants of charred, shattered wreckage. Aaron wondered again if he had done the right thing, moving his daughters back here to live with him in Pennsylvania, uprooting them and taking them away from everything they had known for the last four years.

Forcing them to live with a father they had only seen a week at a time for those same years.

He shoved the doubts from his mind. Yes, of course he'd done the right thing. They were his daughters. His flesh and blood. No way was he going to leave them with his ex-wife's parents a thousand miles away, no matter how many arguments and obstacles they had thrown in his path.

It was the right decision, no matter how often he questioned it.

No matter how many times Brooke fought against it.

Aaron pressed a quick kiss on the top of his youngest daughter's head then pushed to his feet, grimacing at the pain shooting through his knee. "Why don't you go in and grab the plates and bring them outside while I finish cooking?"

Isabelle hesitated, that heart-wrenching expression of sadness and uncertainty still on her face as she stared up at him. Then her face cleared, the sadness replaced by a small smile that made his heart lurch in his chest.

"Okay, Daddy." Isabelle tugged her hand from his then skipped across the patio and into the house. He watched as she slid open the door, watched as she carefully closed it behind her.

So different from her sister.

Aaron sighed, the sound weary even to his jaded ears, then turned back to the grill to check on the chicken breasts. Six of them lined the grate, thick and plump and dripping with barbecue sauce. What the hell had he been thinking, putting so many on? He wasn't cooking for a few of his teammates—he was cooking for himself and his two daughters.

Sure, he'd eat two with no problem. Isabelle might eat half of one. And Brooke…well, he doubted Brooke would even come out of her room to join them for dinner.

He sighed again, squinting against the gentle smoke coming from the grill as he turned each breast. Four months. Shouldn't he have learned how to cook for his own daughters in that time?

Yes, he should have. But there was so much to learn, too many mistakes just waiting to be made. And too many mistakes to be made up for.

Motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked over, surprised to see Savannah Weber walking toward him, two bottles hanging from her long fingers.

"Looked like you could use one." She held out one bottle, a small grin curling the corners of her full mouth. Aaron hesitated then accepted the beer with a small grunt of thanks. He twisted off the cap and lifted the bottle to his mouth, watching the woman standing next to him as he drank the beer.

Savannah had moved in next door a year ago, and they often ran into each other if they were outside. Not hard to do, considering their houses were barely twenty feet apart and no fence separated their yards. And he'd grown accustomed to their chats, to the time they spent together and the way she made him feel: grounded, relaxed. At ease.

She was friendly, with an easy, open smile that sparkled in her hazel eyes. Light brown hair framed her oval face, the blunt ends gently curled under just below her chin. He had no idea what the style was called but it suited her: crisp and sharp and somehow easy-going at the same time. She did something in marketing, he had no idea what, and worked a lot from home.

He'd thought about asking her out once, but never did. What would a professional woman like Savannah ever see in a beat-up, worn-down, past-his-prime hockey player like him? Nothing. She was funny and bright and striking and probably had lots of men asking her out. She sure as hell could find better.

Not that it mattered, not anymore. He had his daughters to worry about now.

Aaron pulled his gaze from hers, surprised at the heat filling his face and hoping like hell she hadn't been able to see what he was thinking. He sat the bottle next to the grill and reached for the tongs, more for something to do. "I guess Brooke was a little loud."

Savannah shrugged, that small smile still playing around the corners of her mouth as she leaned against the picnic table. "I take it things didn't go well today?"

"You could say that." Aaron flipped the breasts one last time then reached for the beer. He'd taken both girls to register them for school today, to make sure all the paperwork was done and their records transferred before the school year started in a few weeks. Isabelle had been quiet and a little curious, just as he'd expected. And Brooke—

Well, Brooke had gone in full of attitude, all of it negative as she found fault with everything, from the layout of the middle school to its proximity to the elementary school to the classes she'd be taking.

Just as he'd expected.

Savannah's smile turned sympathetic. Her gaze drifted to the house, then slowly back to his. "Give her time. She's still adjusting."

"I know." Aaron looked away from those clear hazel eyes that seemed to see so much more than he was willing to show. He cleared his throat then pulled the chicken from the grill, wondering again why he'd put on so many. The leftovers would go into the refrigerator, where they'd be forgotten until he tossed them later in the week. Unless…

He didn't stop to think, didn't even question the sudden impulse. "Did you, uh, feel like staying for dinner? I made too much and the girls will never eat it all so there's plenty to go around. If you want, I mean."

Savannah's laughter caught him off-guard. Breathy and light, it wrapped around him, warming him in ways he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just her laughter, either—it was the way she was looking at him, with her head tilted to the side so the ends of her hair brushed against the gentle slope of her bare shoulder. Her full mouth curled into a charming smile.

"How could I resist such an irresistible invitation?"

Damn, there it was again, that annoying heat that filled his face. Too late, he realized how he had phrased the invite and he looked away, wondering if she noticed the blush creeping across his cheeks. He opened his mouth, tried to stammer out an apology, and was saved from saying anything by the sound of the back door sliding opening then closing again.

Isabelle's face was scrunched up in concentration as she made her way across the patio, her hands filled with plates and silverware. Three glasses—the real kind, not plastic—wobbled from their perch on top of the plates. Aaron tossed the tongs down, his breath held as his gaze locked on those wobbling glasses, knowing they were seconds away from crashing to the patio.

He started to move but Savannah was quicker, her long, slim legs reaching Isabelle in three quick strides. She leaned over and rescued the glasses just as they started to topple, catching them before they could hit the pavers and splinter into a thousand shards that would have sliced Isabelle's thin legs.

"Looks like you've got your hands full, kiddo. Let me help."

His daughter looked up at Savannah, a shy smile of gratitude on her face. "Thank you."

Aaron released the breath he'd been holding then turned back to the grill and reached for the tongs. Heat seared his thumb and he quickly dropped them, swallowing back the curse that wanted to tumble from his mouth. He glanced at his thumb then brought it to his mouth, sucking on the small burn across the fleshy pad as he called himself an idiot for not paying closer attention.

"You okay?"

He glanced over, surprised to see Savannah by his side, amusement dancing in her hazel eyes as she stared at his hand.

No, not at his hand—at his thumb, which was still in his mouth like he was some stupid baby. He yanked his hand away, rubbed it against the leg of his gym shorts, then reached for the tongs again, this time making sure his hands stayed safely away from the grill.

"Yeah, fine. Wasn't paying attention."

Savannah laughed, the sound light and carefree, then turned back to Isabelle. "Did you need help setting the table?"

"Yes, please."

A lump settled in Aaron's chest, one that wouldn't disappear no matter how many times he swallowed. How stupid was it to read so much into the fact that Savannah had asked if she could help, instead of just taking over? Yeah, that was pretty damn stupid.

He turned off the grill and grabbed the platter of breasts then stood there, watching as Savannah helped Isabelle set the table. Three plates. Three glasses. Three forks and three knives. Three napkins.

Three.

"Isabelle, Savannah's going to join us for dinner so we need one more place setting."

Surprise flashed in his daughter's eyes, quickly replaced with excitement when she looked over at Savannah. Aaron's gut twisted at the sight. Was it simply because Isabelle happened to like their neighbor, or was there something more to it? Was Isabelle craving a mother's presence more than he realized? Or was it just a woman's presence that she needed?

Doubt threaded its way through his mind once again. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had done the right thing by bringing the girls to live with him. Yes, he was their father, but they barely knew him. And he knew nothing about raising girls.

He knew nothing about raising kids, period.

He pushed the doubts away, shoving them into a corner of his mind and ruthlessly slamming a mental door on them. He was their father. Bringing them here was the right thing to do. No, it hadn't been an easy four months, and they still had a lot of bumps ahead of them, but they were his daughters. They belonged with him.

Savannah and Isabelle disappeared into the house, returning a few minutes later carrying a pitcher of iced tea and the tray holding the salad he had tossed earlier along with the tub of coleslaw—

And no additional place setting.

Savannah must have seen his questioning look because she caught his eye and quickly shook her head as Isabelle put the tray on the table.

"Brooke said she wasn't coming out to eat. And…" Isabelle hesitated, then leaned closer and lowered her voice to a loud whisper. "And she called Miss Savannah a bad word."

Anger mingled with embarrassment coursed through Aaron and he darted a glance at Savannah. "She what?"

"It's okay, she's just going—"

"No, it's not okay. She can be mad at me all she wants, but that's no excuse to talk to you that way."

Savannah stepped closer and placed her hand on his arm, the touch gentle and reassuring. "Aaron, really, it's okay. I'll just go home—"

"It's not okay. And you don't need to go home. I invited you for dinner." Aaron stepped away from her, felt the late-summer breeze brush against his skin where her hand had just been. Odd, how chilled that breeze felt compared to the warmth of her touch. He gave himself a mental shake then motioned to the bench across from him. "Sit. The chicken's getting cold."

"Aaron, it's not—"

"I said sit." He realized how gruff he sounded, like he was barking orders. Savannah's brows shot up, a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Heat filled his face again as he cleared his throat. "Uh, I mean, please."

"But Brooke—"

"Needs to learn she's not going to get away with this kind of behavior. She can join us if she gets hungry." Aaron slid onto the bench and stabbed a chicken breast with his fork. He dropped it onto Savannah's plate then stabbed a second one for Isabelle and cut it in half, watching Savannah from the corner of his eye, his breath held as he waited to see what she would do.

The small smile on her face bloomed into a grin as she finally took a seat across from him. An answering grin curled his own lips as he spooned coleslaw onto Isabelle's plate then passed the tub to Savannah.

"I feel bad, thinking that Brooke is missing out on dinner because of me."

"It has nothing to do with you. It's her choice, and she needs to learn choices have consequences." Aaron finished helping Isabelle cut her chicken, then filled his own plate.

"She's—what? Thirteen?"

"Yeah." Thirteen, going on thirty. He didn't say the words out loud; Savannah's sympathetic smile let him know he didn't have to.

"That's a tough age. And with everything else going on…" Savannah tossed a glance at Isabelle then offered Aaron a shrug. "It'll get better."

"That's what I keep hoping."

"It will. Just give it time."

"Yeah, but how much? Training camp starts next month. Then the regular season. Road games. I was hoping—" Aaron stopped, swallowing back the words with a bite of chicken. He'd been hoping for a miracle, but he couldn't say that out loud, not without sounding ridiculous.

Savannah popped a slice of cucumber into her mouth then chewed and swallowed. "Have you figured out how you're going to juggle the schedule?"

"For the most part. My mom's going to be helping out as much as she can, coming to stay when we're on the road. And on the nights we're playing home, if she can't watch them, I'll bring them to the games with me. Harland's wife said she could watch them." No, it wasn't the best arrangement, but it would work. At least until he could think of something better.

"I like Miss Courtney." Isabelle wiped the barbecue sauce from her mouth, completely missing the smear on her cheek, and gave Savanna a big smile. "She has a little boy and she lets me help watch him sometimes."

"Yeah? Sounds cool."

Isabelle bobbed her head up and down with an enthusiastic smile. "It is."

Savannah smiled at Isabelle then looked at Aaron, her hazel eyes steady on his. "If you find yourself in a pinch, you can always call me."

"Thanks, but I couldn't impose—"

"You wouldn't be imposing. I offered, remember?"

Aaron opened his mouth to tell her no, then snapped it shut again. No, he wouldn't take advantage of Savannah like that, it didn't matter if she offered or not. But it was better to keep his options open, just in case something unexpected came up. "Thank you."

"Not a problem. Besides, I think it would be fun. What do you think, Isabelle?"

"I think it would be fun, too! But I don't think Brooke would like it."

Aaron stared at his daughter in surprise. "Isabelle—"

"But she wouldn't, Daddy. Brooke doesn't like anything anymore. Not even me."

Aaron clenched his jaw, anger and sorrow filling him at the way Isabelle's lips trembled on those last words. He reached over and ruffled her hair, then pulled her in for a quick side hug. His gaze darted to the windows upstairs. The curtain in Brooke's room swayed just a little, like someone had been watching and quickly stepped back, afraid of being seen.

Was she up there now, watching? Was she sorry she wasn't down here with everyone else? Or was she still angry, spiting herself just to make a point?

Probably both. And Aaron had no idea what to do about it, no idea how to bridge the distance that kept growing between them.