Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

HAYES

Lawson: New season, boys! WHO IS READY TO GET THE CUP?!

Keller: I was really hoping this group chat would die a quick death now that you're no longer single.

Lawson: Are you kidding me? Ain't NO WAY I'm leaving my boys behind.

Keller: We can dream, though. We can dream.

Lawson: So, what you're saying is…you dream about me?

Keller: Nightmares are dreams too, Lawsy.

Lawson: No, sorry. You can't try to spin this in your favor. You dream about me.

Lawson: Because you love me.

Keller: Hard no.

Lawson: Hard yes.

Lawson: Admit it already. We all know it's true.

Hutch: Please admit it. He's annoying, and it's entirely too early for this shit.

Keller: Fuck no.

Fox: I mean, we know you don't HATE hate him, so why not?

Keller: Because I do HATE hate him.

Locke: You don't.

Keller: Do too.

Fox: Come on, guys…

Locke: There it is. I was waiting for it.

Hutch: Knew he'd say it eventually.

Fox: What? What's wrong with what I said?

Hutch: Always the peacekeeper.

Locke: Such a good club dad.

Fox: I am NOT the club dad! Am I?

Lawson: Eh. Maybe a little.

Keller: Definitely more responsible than half of us.

Fox: Why does this feel like a bad thing?

Lawson: It is.

Lawson: Speaking of dads…Hayes, you there?

Lawson: Because I texted everyone for a totally important reason, and I need ALL of your attention.

Me: I'm here.

Lawson: Good. Now, gather around, everyone…

Lawson: You guys ever had a fart you feel like is going to change your life and you forget you're lying next to your girl, and you just let it rip?

Fox: Wow. Good morning to us.

Me: More like good morning to Rory.

Hutch: Please tell me you didn't.

Locke: It's Lawson. Of course he did.

Keller: Every day, I wonder what random thing will come out of your mouth that makes me wish I never met you. It's not even eight AM, and you've already accomplished that. Kudos to you.

Me: I bet Rory wishes she never met him right now.

Lawson: Wow. Rude. She loves me.

Lawson: At least I hope she still does.

Lawson: IDK. She hasn't made eye contact with me all morning.

Lawson: DID I FUCK THIS UP ALREADY????

Fox: Nah, man. You're fine.

Me: No. Definitely not.

Locke: I'm sure it's not a big deal.

Hutch: I fart in front of Auden all the time.

Lawson: Really?

Hutch: No, fuckwad. I have manners.

Lawson: UGH!

Lawson: What do I do??? I'm freaking out!

Keller: You should move. Far, far, far away.

Lawson: Like to your apartment, Kells? You'd take me in, right?

Keller: I'd take you OUT.

Lawson: I'm flattered but taken.

Keller: *knife emoji*

Lawson: But seriously…nothing to worry about, right?

Keller: Wrong. You have everything to worry about.

Lawson: THAT IS NOT HELPING, KELLER!

Keller: LOL. You actually thought I was going to help you.

Keller: Get bent, Lawsy.

Lawson: STOP IT.

Lawson: HELP ME.

Lawson: HELLO?

Lawson: AM I TALKING TO MYSELF HERE?

Keller: Yes.

Lawson: *cries*

Keller: Your tears fuel me.

I chuckle at the absurdity of my teammates and their antics as my phone continues to blow up. I'm certain Lawson, our resident sunshine guy, and Keller, easily the grumpiest human I've ever met, are arguing back and forth. Knowing them, this is going to last a while, and usually, I'd sit around and watch their bullshit roll in and egg them on, but I no longer have that luxury. I have far too many responsibilities to take care of now.

I toss my phone onto the bed, right onto the spot that was rarely vacant before this summer. Ever since I got The Call , though, it's been empty. Unfortunately for me, it will remain that way for the foreseeable future.

How the fuck can one phone call change so much?

I try to shake away the thought as I peel the sheet off me and rise from my massive California king-sized bed. I stop, listening for any sign of life or indication that my new roommate is awake, but I don't hear a thing. The quiet both comforts me and sets my senses on high alert, which has me padding over to my dresser and pulling on a pair of sweats instead of parading around my own damn house in my underwear like I usually would. I can't do that. Not anymore.

I put on a simple gray t-shirt, then open my bedroom door and look right.

It's open.

I close my door and make my way to the bathroom because I'm going to need a minute before going out there and facing…well, my new shitty reality.

No. Not shitty. That's an awful thing to say. It's not her fault.

It's his .

I shake my head as I wash my hands. Why does family have to make everything so complicated? Why do they have to screw shit up for the rest of us? And I don't mean the Oopsie, I spent too much money at the casino last night, could you spot me until my next paycheck? kind of screwup.

I mean the big kind. The kind that means my one-bedroom apartment in the heart of downtown that I loved so much? Gone. My spontaneous decisions to go out and get plastered? Not happening. Summer trips to wherever the fuck I please? Never again. Doing whatever I want whenever I want? No longer a thing.

And it's all thanks to my asshole older brother who couldn't keep his life together for more than six months at a time. You'd think after all the shit we went through as kids with our parents, he'd have made better decisions, but of course not. He went and fucked his life up, then took mine down right along with him.

I brush my teeth with too much force while my new ward is presumably sitting on the couch, quiet as a mouse, just like every morning for the last few months. I finish my routine in the bathroom, then take a deep breath before moving out into my new living room with quiet steps.

After the court ruling, I knew one thing right away—I needed a bigger place. Now, I feel like a certified adult with a mortgage instead of a bachelor pad in the city .

Fuck, I miss my bachelor pad.

As soon as I round the corner, my eyes drift to the sofa, and as suspected, my new roommate is sitting right in the center of the giant black couch.

"Good morning," I say quietly, tucking my hands into my pockets.

I hold my breath and wait for her to acknowledge me. It's awkward, and I'm still unsure if that's normal. How could I know? I've never had to deal with a kid before.

"Good morning," Flora, my niece and new charge, whispers, flicking her big blue eyes my way for only a moment before returning her attention to the television.

I thought seven-year-old kids were supposed to be loud and rowdy, not sitting on the sofa watching the weather channel before eight AM. Apparently, Flora is the exception.

"Did you sleep okay?" I ask her.

Flora nods, and I let my shoulders relax. I was warned things might be a little rough with her initially, but what I didn't expect was the bloodcurdling scream she let out our first night together. We were still in my apartment, and I was sleeping on the couch so she could have my bed. She shrieked so loudly I bolted upright around two AM and ran into my bedroom only to find her still sleeping, her little legs kicking and her breaths uneven. I watched her for a good thirty minutes until she finally settled down and back into a normal sleep. I didn't shut my eyes again that night, and when I asked her about it the next morning, she said she couldn't remember her dreams. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad.

She's only had one other incident since, but those two times have still been enough to keep me on edge every night. Well, those and my own recurring horror story. It's been the same one since she moved in with me—I'm in a crowded place with Flora, and one second, she's there, then the next, she's gone, and I spend the rest of the dream running around trying to find her until I wake in a sweaty panic.

It reminds me how utterly unprepared I am for this. I never wanted kids—and, frankly, I still don't—but none of that matters anymore. My brother, Aiden, made sure of that, so all I can do is embrace it.

"Are you hungry?" I scratch at my beard, which I desperately need to trim, but I can't seem to find the time to do so. Just like I haven't had time to hit the store. If she's hungry, we'll need to go out for something. I'm used to living in a city where everything is a short walk away. Yeah, we have a few places nearby, but nothing compared to the options I had there. Yet another way my brother has managed to put me out .

Flora nods in response again, and I hold back an irritated sigh. I get it, she's not used to someone giving a shit about her, but giving me just a little help would be nice.

"Want to get donuts?" I ask.

There's the faintest hint of a spark at the mention of donuts, and when she nods again, there's a bit more urgency to it. Flora translation: She's excited.

"Go get dressed, then we'll head out. Sound good?"

Another nod as she aims the remote at the television, turning it off before placing the device just so on the tray in the middle of the coffee table. She scampers by me, her steps quick as she beelines straight for her bedroom.

She doesn't fling the door closed. No, she gently presses it into place, like she's afraid closing it too hard might destroy it. Or maybe she's just scared of loud noises. I can't tell quite yet.

I follow behind her to my bedroom, swap my sweatpants for a pair of jeans, leave the gray t-shirt in place, and toss a flannel over it. It's a sunny Saturday in September, not a cloud in the sky, and I likely won't need a jacket. When I step out of my bedroom to find Flora waiting back on the couch wearing her squeaky pale pink rain jacket and matching boots, I know there's a good chance I'm wrong about the weather. I ignore it anyway.

"You ready?" I ask.

Another nod.

"Flora…" I say softly. "You have to try to remember to use your words. It might seem silly, but you need to get used to talking to people. Your teacher was very adamant about that."

She goes to nod again but corrects herself. "Yes, Uncle Adam," she says in a whisper-soft voice, her lips barely even moving with the words. It's the bare minimum, but I'll take it.

"Thank you." I clear my throat, then paste on a big grin. "Now, how about some donuts? I'm thinking trash-can flavored with extra slivers of rotten bananas on mine. What about you?"

Her lips tip upward—but only barely—before she slides off the couch and marches past me to the door without giving me an answer. It might be the world's most microscopic hint of a smile, but I swear it's the biggest win I've had all week regarding her.

Flora isn't like other kids, and I don't just mean because she's quiet. She's smart, and I suspect it's the kind of smart that could have her skipping several grades if I wanted to get her tested. It's evident not just in how she carries herself but also in her eyes. They're old. She's old. She may only be seven, but she's been through more than some adults have in their entire lives, thanks to the shit my brother put her through.

I try to shake away all thoughts of him. If I spend too much time dwelling on him and his actions and choices, I'll get angry, which will only lead to me drinking far too much, which I really don't need to be doing with the season so close. I need to be sharp and ready to prove that this new predicament I've found myself in with the kid won't affect my game so I can stick around, because I really fucking want to stick around.

I certainly wouldn't tell them because it would just inflate their already big egos—especially Lawson's—but I like my teammates here a lot. Initially I was pissed when I found out I was being traded from the Carolina Comets. I'd just won a Cup with those guys, and we were really starting to build something good. When I got the call saying I was being shipped off to the Emerald City, where rain boots are required and a vitamin D deficiency is a real concern, I thought for sure it was the worst thing that could happen. Turns out it might have been the best, even if they're still bickering back and forth in our group chat, my pocket buzzing incessantly. I have no doubt it's because Lawson and Keller are at each other's throats.

I let the messages go unread as I follow Flora out the front door, pressing the lock button on the keypad. We turn right onto the sidewalk, heading toward the shops a few blocks up. I'm not overly proud to admit it, but we've often walked this same path since we moved in two months ago. I don't do well in the kitchen, so stocking the fridge has never been my priority. Thus, donuts for breakfast are almost becoming routine at this point.

It takes us fifteen minutes to walk to the small bakery, and Flora is silent the entire time. No small talk, not even a sigh or a grunt. She's quiet per usual. Hell, her feet barely make noise against the cement. She doesn't even get excited when a couple, each steering two dogs, goes by us.

The bell chimes over my head as I open the small lilac-painted door to B's Bakes, one of the best bakeries I've ever been to, and the dark-haired woman behind the counter whips her head up. It takes only a moment for her to shoot us a megawatt grin.

"Miss Flora!" Bess, the bakery owner, rounds the counter and bends until she's my niece's height. "How are you this lovely, sunny morning?"

"Good," Flora says in her usual tiny voice.

Her shyness doesn't deter Bess one bit. "Well, I'm so glad to hear that. What are you in for today? Let me guess…you want a donut with sprinkles?"

Flora starts to nod, then peeks up at me before giving Bess her attention and saying, "Yes, ma'am. "

I can't help but smile. She's learning.

I like that she's learning, that she's listening. I know how this is for me at twenty-five, so I can't imagine how hard it must be for her at seven. She's not only being thrown into this unfamiliar environment but now is saddled with a guy she doesn't even know. That would be rough on anyone, let alone a kid.

I only wish I had known about her sooner.

Given his history, getting the call about Aiden wasn't a shock. But then the people on the other end of the line started using words like your niece , temporary custody , and guardian . That's when my jaw hit the floor. He's lied about a lot of shit over the years, left out mountains of details, but an entire fucking kid? That was a whole new low, even for him.

"Let's get you that donut, then. Extra sprinkles." Bess winks at Flora, then rises to her full height, which isn't all that full considering she's five foot three at best. "And how are you, Mr. Hayes?"

I've asked her several times to call me Hayes like everyone else, but she insists on ignoring me. She's lucky I like her enough to let it slide.

"Doing fine, Bess. And you? How're the kids?"

"Oh, a mess as usual." She rolls her eyes. "But that's just par for the course. Quinn, my youngest daughter…" She shakes her head with a cluck of her tongue. "I don't know what I'm going to do about her so me days. That's the one who was helping in here a few weeks back, remember?"

How could I forget? I ordered a black coffee, and she somehow managed to mess that up. How is it even possible to take something so simple and make it so complicated? I don't know, but Quinn sure did.

"I remember. Has she been giving you trouble?"

"Since the day she was born." She smiles fondly. "Anyway, enough about me. Your usuals?"

"Please."

"Coming right up."

She gets started on our breakfast—a chocolate donut with extra sprinkles for Flora and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese for me. She pours my coffee and grabs chocolate milk for the kid without me having to ask.

Damn, we really do come in here too often. I can't help it though, and not just because I'm a terrible cook. It reminds me of Scout's Sweets back in North Carolina, and I miss frequenting that truck far more than I care to admit.

"Thanks," I tell her as she slides our breakfast our way. "What's the damage?"

"That'll be ten seventy-five."

I hand Bess my card, then grab the plated donut from the counter, shoving it Flora's way. "Go grab us a table, huh, kiddo? I'll finish this up. "

"Okay," she murmurs, taking her plate and milk, then carefully walking over to the table near the entrance, the same one we always sit at. She doesn't make a peep as she slides her chair out and settles into it, folding her hands in her lap, staring down at her donut, and just…waiting.

So odd.

I turn back to Bess, and there is no mistaking the look on her face—pity.

Her heavily purple-painted lips are turned down as she asks, "How are things really? With Flora, I mean."

"They're great," I lie, mostly because I know I can. Bess won't question me, not with Flora standing right there. Sure, she'll ask about her, but she won't lecture me because she doesn't want to upset the kid.

I don't want to upset her either. It's why I've been tiptoeing around everything for the last two months. It's easier that way.

"I see. And have you found a sitter for her? For during the season?"

It's no secret to Bess that I play hockey. This area we moved to is a hotspot for players with families, so I wasn't entirely surprised she recognized me. Then she told me the real reason she knows who I am—her son plays for Tennessee, and he was ranting about a play I made last season for weeks. I laughed, she laughed, and she gave me two donuts for the price of one .

That's the hockey world for you. It's small, and even when players on opposing teams don't get along on the ice, you're family off it.

"I'm working on it," I tell her, and it's not a complete lie. I am working on it…sort of. Sure, I have no idea where to start when it comes to finding childcare, but it is in the back of my mind. That counts for something, right?

"If you get in a pinch, you let me know, all right? I'm sure I can help figure something out for you."

"I'll keep that in mind." I don't mean it in the least bit because I'm sure she has her own stuff to worry about. "Thanks, Bess."

"Any time, kid." She gives me a warm smile, and I throw a twenty into her tip jar.

I tuck my card back into my wallet, then grab my breakfast and meet Flora at the table. I settle across from her, folding my napkin over my lap, just to see how she reacts to it. She watches me intently, then does the same. My lips twitch at the action.

I lift my coffee to my lips, taking a tentative sip since it's still hot as hell. Flora matches my movements.

It's cute, her mirroring me. I just wish I could tell if she's doing it intentionally or if she's simply learning. With Flora, I never know. The kid has the best poker face of all time.

"So, how's school going? "

She lifts a dainty shoulder. "Fine."

I try not to react to her one-word answer.

"And what about Mrs. Aguilar? Do you like her?"

"She's nice," Flora tells me. Then surprises me by following it up with, "I like her dresses. She always wears pretty dresses with flowers on them and matches them to her earrings. Some of the kids in class make fun of her, but I don't. I always tell her I like her outfits."

It's sad to say, but this may be the most my niece has ever said to me at one time, and it's easily the best. She might have spent the first seven years of her life with my asshole brother, but it's clear Flora is nothing like him, and damn am I glad.

"Is that so?" I ask her. "Tell me more about Mrs. Aguilar."

That's how we spend our breakfast—Flora telling me about her teacher and me listening intently, not at all worrying about all the other things I need to do to prepare for the season.

Who the hell would have thought my life would turn out this way?