Chapter 19

chapter 19

brYCE

No fucking sparks?

We made enough electricity to light up Vegas. Maybe even enough to power the entire country. It was an incredible number of fucking sparks. Explosions.

The entire plane ride, I put on my Beats and thought about Emmaline on our date. How she chewed. Getting her off on the putting green. The flush of her face. How easy the conversation was. And how she forgot about what she thinks her body looks like and rode me like she was a damn champion bull rider—bucking and grinding. The feel of her tits in my mouth. And how she got me to open up. It was all so effortless.

A fucking accountant?

Surely, Roman Rustavelli knows his sister better than that. I turn, leaning my back against the plane’s window, stretch my legs out, and look up Emmaline Rustavelli. I never bothered to look her up since her brother is my teammate. After overhearing the brother-sister duo talking about Penelope, I put Roman and Penelope in the search bar.

Roman Rustavelli’s wife of seven years caught cheating with his agent.

Holy shit. I knew he got a divorce from some of the guys on the team. But like Emmaline said, team captains stay out of the fray. At least I do, and sometimes that’s mistaken for my disinterest. Roman and I had been rivals back in our days in college, but now, he’s my teammate, and I hate that she cheated on him and left him. I know all too well how that feels from every fucking person in my life.

Emmaline said that her fiancé had been Roman’s best friend, so now it’s all adding up. Although it doesn’t make me any less hurt by Emmaline’s words.

When we get to the hotel, I change to a suite with an adjoining bedroom, so Jolie and Emmaline have their own beds. And a door that locks Emmaline out in case I need to tend to my wounded… heart or my ego. God, I hope it’s my ego that feels slashed.

Someone slaps my shoulder. I swivel my head around, expecting Cross or Snow, but it’s her brother.

“Do you hate your Porsche?”

“What?” I snip. I’m in a fucking bad mood.

“My sister is an awful driver. Next time you lend her a car, you may want to give her your Mustang.”

My Mustang is vintage. “No one drives my Mustang. Betty is my baby.” I start it every day and drive around the parking garage. But I only drive it three times a year, really drive it. “Plus, it’s not an automatic. Your sister doesn’t seem like she would know how to drive a stick. Being all country club. ”

Roman laughs in my face. “You should get to know your nanny a little better. There may be things you don’t want her to teach your daughter.”

I’ve been getting to know every inch of her.

He strides off, and I go to the hotel suite, dump my weekender bag on the floor, strip, take another shower, and grab an early dinner with the team. Reed pulls out the chair next to mine, which scrapes against the hardwood floor and says, “Jolie was great last night. She smiled the whole time as long as Cannon was beside her.”

“Did she talk?”

“She said his name once when she couldn’t find him while they were playing hide and seek. He told me at breakfast, but I didn’t hear it. He was so proud that the first word she said was his name,” Reed says smiling.

Of course, it’s awesome that she spoke, but I really wanted her first word to be Daddy.

“That’s good. I think I need to keep an eye on Cannon. Not sure I want her to end up with a boy who’s got game at six years old,” I tease in a meditative tone.

He thinks I’m kidding, but I’m not. Now I know how Roman feels about his sister dating a professional athlete. There’s no doubt in my mind that Cannon will be a professional athlete. The boy loves to compete—it’s in his DNA.

“Is the family coming this weekend?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s the one weekend where the kids are free. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking thrilled. I was used to Brooke being on the road with me but with five kids, she just can’t do it all. Trying to get this app out of beta testing and starting a ballet center. She needs to have some fun. The kids are staying at Dane and Lettie’s mansion, so Brooke and I can have some alone time.”

A month ago, I wouldn’t truly understand the difficulty of having a sex life when you have kids, but now that Jolie comes first, I do. I had to set up a sleepover so I could go on a date and damn, it was fucking great night. Not such a good morning.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen Dane and Lettie. We played the Nashville Notes a few years ago, and a bunch of us guys went to watch them perform at the Bluebird. They’re incredible.”

Reed nods in agreement. “Can you imagine being awesome at more than one thing? I admit, I’m an incredible hockey player, but to be a professional basketball player and a professional singer is next level.” He shakes his head and takes a drink of his vegetable protein shake. “They’ll be at the game tomorrow. They’re singing the national anthem. Tonight, they’re keeping the kids.”

“Can’t wait to see them.”

“So how was your date?” he asks.

“Extra.”

Reed’s eyes pinch. “What does extra mean? Sorry, I’m not up on urban diction.”

“It just means she was more than I expected.”

“In a good way?”

I shrug. “I thought so, but now I don’t know. I’ve had some time to reflect. Not sure she’s into the real me.”

No fucking sparks. She could have said dozens of other things.

“Aww, sorry, man. Brooke was hoping she made a love connection. She’s so happy being here with someone who knows our history and wants you to be happy.” He knocks against the table before we head to the arena to start our pre-game walkthrough.

Coach shows us some film in the locker room to remind us of a few of the opposing players tendencies. The Nashville Notes are no pushover, and it’s early in the season and easy to underestimate your opponent. Snow, our goalie, seems nervous. One of my old Kentucky Stallions teammates, Corbin Shearer, has been ripping holes in the goal with fourteen goals. I was two years ahead of Corbin, but he always worked hard, wanting to land on the second line. When Reed was moved back up to first line, he moved in behind him.

I’ll see if Shearer wants to go out after and reminisce. I’ll talk to Reed and ask if they can spare a drink before his alone time starts with Brooke.

As always, I lace my skates before everyone else. I do a light skate around the arena before the rest of team comes out, so I can connect with the opposing team’s arena. Some call it a superstition, I call it my routine. My coaching staff and teammates know to give me ten minutes. It’s my thing. My time to become one with the ice. I think about my brother every night while my blades slide across the surface. It’s my time with him. Where I funnel Andri’s energy into mine. Except today, all I can think about is the woman who walked out on me my rookie season. And the same woman who pushed me in a closet to hide. No woman has ever wanted to hide me. I’m fucking Bryce Wynward, Cup Champion, League MVP.

She’s my nanny, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Last night was a lapse in judgement. She’s my former rival’s sister and off limits anyway. Now if I could just tell the organ in my chest to let her go because this could get messy. If she doesn’t want to admit to her brother that she likes me and wants to be with me then fuck it.

Before putting on my pads, I check my phone and have a message from Emmaline. She and Jolie made it to the hotel, which is a block away from the arena. While I’m glad they’re here safely, I’m not sure how to approach Emmaline.

When I lead my team onto the ice for pre-game warmups, a line of puck bunnies yells our names, even Reed Cross’ who everyone knows is married and has a ton of children. It makes me nauseous that not long ago, I was dipping my stick in these hockey sluts.

I purposely go to the other side of the frozen ground to do my butterfly stretches so I can scan the stands, hoping Jolie and Emmaline are here early, and I can meet my daughter at the glass. For years, I’ve been on the outside looking in at players with families. A family is something I’ve always wanted and even though Emmaline isn’t family, she’s the one taking care of my daughter.

I’m no one’s to hide. If she doesn’t want her brother to know about our hot as hell rendezvous, then I’ll keep her secret, but I won’t continue to be someone’s secret.

Roman and Reed flank me on each side when the Nashville Notes hit the ice, and the crowd erupts. Reed and I hop up and skate toward Shearer, our former Stallions teammate. We exchange embraces and shoot the breeze for a minute.

“How are Brooke and the kids?” Shearer asks.

Reed smiles like he saw a girl’s boobs for the first time. “They’re perfect. They’ll be here soon. No matter the outcome tonight, I’d love for you to meet our newest addition, Christina.”

They bump gloves. “Sure thing. What about you, Wynward? Still pucking the bunnies?”

“Nah, no time for a sex life,” I mumble, and Shearer’s jaw drops. That’s when I spot Emmaline. She’s hard to miss with that damn thick, shiny, auburn hair. In her arms is my little girl wearing a Jets jersey. I point in Emmaline and Jolie’s direction. “That’s my daughter.”

“You married a woman with a child? Shit, man, I thought I would be invited to the wedding.”

Reed says, “No. The woman is Roman Rustavelli’s sister, and she’s…”

“My nanny.”

I skate off to see the girls in their jerseys. But when I reach the glass partition, I notice Jolie’s jersey isn’t generic; it’s a pint-size replica of mine. Emmaline brings her down, and I grin. She’s in leggings, my jersey, and her Nikes instead of a damn dress. Momentarily, all the hurt vanishes.

“Thank you,” I say to Emmaline, who’s wearing the exact same outfit as Jolie. Well, not exactly; she’s wearing her brother’s jersey. And damn if jealousy rolls up my spine. He’s her brother. She should be wearing his jersey, but that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about her wearing number nine.

“Just using your black card, like you asked.” She smirks. And just like that, I forget about her pushing me in a closet like a nudie mag you don’t want your mom to see. “Should we go back to the hotel after the game or wait for you… and the team?”

“Wait.”

Snow meets me at the glass. “Ready.”

I nod.

Emmaline takes Jolie’s hand, holding it up and waving it. “Wave good luck to Daddy.”

Who knew a little girl could make a grown and perpetually grumpy man melt? Their matching outfits make my stomach flutter at a single thought as I push off the boards, skating backward.

Emmaline could be Jolie’s mommy.