Chapter 3

Foster

We’re running two-on-one breakaway drills and I’m paired with Seth Caraway, a minor league player. He was invited to the Titans’ training camp to join the nearly sixty prospects vying for a spot on our twenty-three-person roster.

Training camp started two days ago and has mostly involved physicals and individual skills evaluations. Today we’re drilling with other players, and just because I have a contract that extends through the end of this season doesn’t mean I’m a sure bet to keep my second-line center status.

Every off-season, I train just as hard as I do during the regular season because I’m well aware that going into my eleventh year in the league, there will always be younger, faster, stronger players coming up through the ranks, gunning for my spot.

The previous pairing slipped one by our backup goalie from last year, Kace Elliott, who looks pissed as Seth and I prepare to meet our defender, Jack Kingston, at center ice.

He’s an interesting dude, traded to our team over the summer to replace Kirill Zucker on the first-line defense. King, as everyone calls him, came from the Houston Jam and is one of the top five defensemen in the league. It was a huge score when Callum Derringer snagged him, but then again, our GM picked up a lot of great talent over the summer.

Seth and I head down the ice, passing the puck back and forth. I don’t know his style, nor he mine, but our passes are sharp. King skates backward between us, moving his stick side to side, looking for an opportunity to poke the puck out of our possession. As we close in on Kace in goal, he leans left and right, attempting to see around King’s hulking figure. The dude is massive and yet light on his skates. Totally impressive.

I juke left, then right, forcing King to commit. I’m able to slide the puck easily through his legs. Seth picks it up for a blistering wrist shot but is denied by Kace, who scoops it from the air as if magic lined his glove.

“Good save,” I say to Kace as I skate behind the net and head back to the end of the drill lines formed on the opposite side of the rink.

After practice, I shower and change into street clothes. I’d made plans to meet up with Boone and Van for a beer over at Mario’s but I don’t see them around. Probably already headed over.

As I walk out to the player parking garage so I can stow my bag in my Ford F-150, I scroll through my messages.

There’s a text from Van. Already got a table and ordered you a beer.

I whip back a response. On my way.

A voicemail notification catches my attention and I flip over to see that Sandra left me a message. I press play and put the phone to my ear.

“Foster… call me. There’s something important I need to discuss with you.”

The words alone wouldn’t cause any emotional uprising within me but her tone sounds defensive, as if she’s gearing up for a battle.

Without hesitation, I dial her back and continue the trek to my truck.

“Hey,” she answers. She sounds rushed and frazzled.

“What’s up?” I say casually.

“Um… listen… I wanted to let you know that I’ve got a job opportunity and I’m going to be taking Bowie Jane with me.”

My words are terse as I stop in my tracks. “What kind of opportunity?”

“I’m relocating to Singapore,” she says brusquely.

“The fuck you are,” I snarl into the phone. “There’s no way I’m letting you take her out of the country.”

She sighs heavily. “It’s a good career move for me.”

“What career? I freaking pay you spousal support. You haven’t had to work since we got married and you haven’t held a job since we divorced.”

“Well, Chet is taking a job there and he wants us to join him. He’s an actor and he’s got a big opportunity in front of him.”

“You said you had a job opportunity,” I remind her.

“I do. There’s a chance Chet can get me a walk-on role. He has some clout.”

I don’t bother telling Sandra that I know all about Chet and his lack of an esteemed career. Instead, I maintain my stance. “I won’t agree to it.”

I listen for the next several minutes as Sandra whines, moans and rages about the unfairness of it. “This is my big shot. You never supported me in my acting career.”

“You didn’t have an acting career. You were in three episodes of a small Vancouver TV production and your role wasn’t even credited.”

“You’re an asshole.”

I want to tell her she’s a bitch but that’s not my style. I’ve never been a name-caller and I’m not about to start.

Blowing out a breath, I calm my voice. “Our custody agreement is very clear. First and foremost, you cannot even move out of the San Francisco area without my permission and agreement if it affects the custody schedule. But it is very clear that she is not to be taken out of the country at all.”

Thank fuck for my really great divorce attorney.

“I’m taking her,” she maintains.

“Good luck with that because that’s technically kidnapping. You try something stupid, Sandra, I’ll sue for full custody.”

“I have a right to a life,” she cries.

“You are a mother first and foremost,” I sneer. “Your life comes after Bowie Jane’s happiness and how can you think taking her away from me will make her happy?”

“You’ll still have summers,” she tosses at me.

“I want every fucking day I deserve, not just summers, so I’m not agreeing to her going. Get an attorney if you have to and we’ll fight this out. You’re not taking from me the scant opportunities I get to see her during the year and taking her out of the country basically ensures that. Why don’t you go to Singapore and she can stay with me?”

Sandra laughs caustically. “You can’t take care of her with your job. Particularly with your travel schedule. You’re not a fit parent to keep her full time.”

“The hell I can’t. I’ll leave the fucking league and be a full-time dad if I have to.”

Sandra gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would and you know it. Nothing is more important to me than Bowie Jane. Can you say the same? Is this new boyfriend of yours more important than your daughter? Because I am not letting you take her out of the country.”

“I’m not just following Chet. I’m trying to make a career. It’s job-related and a judge would understand that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m willing to fight it out. So, what’s it going to be?”

She tries to sound tough, but her voice is shaky. “I’m taking my daughter to Singapore.”

“Our daughter,” I correct. “First thing I’m doing when I hang up this phone is booking a flight to San Francisco and I’m taking Bowie Jane, which leaves you free to follow your boyfriend. Then I’m going to call my attorney to immediately seek full custody. Buckle up, Sandra, because no fucking way I’m letting you do this.”

Her response is dead air as she hangs up on me.

“Fuck!” I yell into the empty players’ garage and the sound reverberates all around me.

But I don’t call the airline to book a flight and I don’t call my attorney. Instead, I dial the Titans’ general manager, Callum Derringer.

?

The executive officesfor the Pittsburgh Titans are on the top floor of the arena. The two corner offices belong to the team owner, Brienne Norcross, and the general manager, Callum Derringer. They both have breathtaking views over the Allegheny River with the city skyline on the opposite side.

I didn’t go into details with Callum about the nature of my problem, only that I needed to talk to him immediately about a family issue. I expected him to fit me into his schedule within the next day or so, but he told me to come up now and I hightailed it to his office, shooting a quick text to Van that I wouldn’t be joining him and Boone. I suddenly have far too much to do.

It took no more than five minutes to drop my gear bag in my truck and make my way from the bowels of the arena to the top floor, past the executive receptionist who had to buzz me in and right to Callum’s office door.

I’m shocked to see Brienne sitting there and when I enter, Callum explains, “By the tone of your voice, I asked Brienne to join us.”

I’m immediately grateful for her presence because, of the million things racing through my head as I made my way up to the pinnacle of the building, I need a better lawyer.

No, I need the absolute best fucking lawyer and there’s no one more capable of helping me find just that person than Brienne Norcross.

She’s the billionaire CEO of a conglomerate of businesses that make her one of the richest people in the world. The Norcross family is very old money, their fortune originally built in coal mines, steel mills, oil refineries and real estate, but they eventually founded Norcross Bank. Now the company is mostly made up of banks, hedge funds and investment groups, as well as one very fortunate professional hockey team.

A year and a half ago, the Pittsburgh Titans’ plane crashed upon landing on a return game trip from Columbus, killing everyone on board, including Brienne’s brother, Adam. While Brienne had been groomed by her father to manage most of Norcross Holdings, it was Adam who ran the hockey team. When he died, Brienne had to step into his shoes and she’s done a fucking phenomenal job so far, including hiring Callum Derringer as the general manager.

“Come on in, Foster,” Callum says, and motions with his hand. “Shut the door behind you.”

“Thanks so much for getting me in quick,” I say, moving to the guest chair beside Brienne.

She smiles and says, “I hear your first few days of camp have been great.”

I’d personally thought I’ve been strong on all levels, but it’s nice to know that information has filtered up from coaches to the GM and the owner herself.

Nodding, I manage a polite response, but I’m too upset over Sandra’s harebrained idea to say much more than, “It’s going well.” I then turn to Callum. “I have to go to California immediately.”

Dark brows knitting in concern, he probes, “Right in the middle of training camp?”

I keep my tone measured and calm, even though I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin. “With all due respect, I don’t care if it costs me my position on the team. It’s an emergency.”

“Lay it out for us,” Brienne says in that cool, efficient tone of hers that says she’s in full CEO mode.

I take a deep breath and then relay the call I just had with Sandra. Shaking my head in befuddlement, I add, “She was acting weird all summer when I had Bowie Jane.”

“In what way?” Callum asks.

I swivel my head to look at him, lifting a shoulder. “It’s hard to describe but it’s like she wasn’t into her daughter, if that makes sense. Sandra only called once or twice a week and she was supposed to come visit twice—at my expense—but didn’t. I’m thinking this new boyfriend has her distracted. The last few weeks since I took Bowie Jane home, I’ve sensed a sullenness in her too. She doesn’t think this guy likes her and I can tell by the tone of her voice and her expressions when we FaceTime every day.”

“And why do you want to go to California?” Brienne asks. “What do you hope to accomplish?”

“I’m going to get my daughter and bring her back here,” I clip out, irritated she doesn’t understand that’s the obvious solution. She’d do the same for her fiancé Drake’s kids, who she’s helping to raise.

“I get you want to do that,” she says softly, but then reminds me, “but that would be a violation of your custody agreement. Just as it would be for her to take Bowie Jane to Singapore.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks falling from the stratosphere… I can’t just go get her. At this very moment, I’m powerless.

“Let me ask you this,” Brienne continues. “Do you think Bowie Jane is happy in her current living situation? Are you concerned about her welfare? Do you think Sandra is making wise and stable decisions for your daughter? And mostly, do you think she’s brave enough to whisk Bowie Jane to Singapore despite your agreement, because if she takes her out of the country, it’s going to be infinitely harder to get her back.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands through my hair. “I think she’s crazy enough to take her. She insisted she was going to do it right up to the time she hung up on me.”

Brienne stands from her chair, gazing down at me. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get on the phone now and get you the absolute best attorney to handle this for you. He’s going to file an emergency order of protection to prevent Sandra from taking Bowie Jane out of the country. If you want to make the move, he’ll also petition for you to have temporary full custody. Are you in a position to take Bowie Jane on full time?”

“If I left the league, then yes… I’m totally in for that,” I reply without hesitation. Full-time dad status sounds perfect for me and will keep my daughter safe.

“Well, that’s not an option for us,” Brienne retorts coolly. “We’d like you to continue playing for us. You’re going to need a support system and while the hockey wives will step in, you’re going to need a very good, full-time nanny to cover her on your away trips. If you can get that set up quickly, your attorney can show to the judge that you’re ready to take over.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for a nanny,” I mumble.

“I’ve got you covered,” Brienne says. “One of my execs who’s relocating to our London office had a wonderful nanny the last few years. Let me see if she’s still available and you can interview her. But I’ll also get team services on finding other options and helping you prescreen eligible candidates.”

If I thought my head was spinning before, I’m so dizzy now I’m not sure I can stand from my chair. The prospect of becoming a full-time dad while managing a hockey career is terrifying, and yet… it’s also thrilling. Coming off one of the best summers of my life having Bowie Jane all to myself has me solidly set in my belief that I’d choose her over the league any day of the week and twice on Sunday. However, if I could have both my career and her… well, I’d…

Okay, not going to let myself get too excited. I’ve got shit to do.

Rising from my chair, I thank both Callum and Brienne before saying, “I’m ready to do whatever you tell me to do.”

“I’ll have an attorney you can talk to within the hour. I’ll see if I can set up a meeting with you and this potential nanny as quickly as possible. I’m sure we can have an order entered prohibiting Sandra from leaving the country by tomorrow, but it might take a little longer to handle the full-time custody issues.”

“Whatever it takes,” I assure her. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”