Chapter 17

The hotel room is quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. I sink onto the edge of the bed with a wince, my left knee creaking in protest. Games like this make my thirty-six-year-old joints feel too damn old for professional hockey.

I press a cold pack to my aching left shoulder, hoping to ease the persistent pain. With my free hand, I grab my phone from the nightstand, realizing I haven't checked it since arriving at the arena hours ago. A grin tugs at my lips when I open it to find a new text from Indie. Attached is a photo of Myra all cozy in bed, sleepy-eyed but smiling, ready to drift off to sleep.

Indie: When you read this Myra will probably be asleep, but she wanted to wish you goodnight and congratulate you on that amazing goal tonight.

I stare at my daughter's sweet face. My lips turn into a big smile, I adore my little troublemaker. Moving to Washington wasn't a mistake, but it probably wasn't the best timing. I was aware of the biggest change she would be going through. Myra had to go to school full time, so she wouldn't be traveling with me. And maybe it's something I should've done last year when she was supposed to start preschool.

Fatherhood is difficult, and fucking up is so easy. Since Saturday I've been wondering if Indie is right and if I should be reaching out to a therapist. I don't like to spend much money on . . . Well, anything. Every other minute I keep second-guessing everything I do in my life.

Moving to another team, becoming a father . . . I knew bringing her into my life would be life-altering. Becoming a father—a single father—was a bold and probably risky move for a man who spends so much time on the road and has to dedicate a lot of his time to training.

However, I've made it work, because she's worth it. This little girl changed my entire life and though we're happy together, for the past few days I've had this nagging feeling that there's something missing in our lives.

Indie's beautiful face comes to mind though.

What the fuck, Brynes? You have to stop having that woman at the forefront of your mind.

But it's almost impossible. There's something about her that makes me think crazy shit that's practically impossible. I have this urge to text her back something sweet and flirty, yet not overly suggestive.

But I stop myself. She's a woman who probably likes romance and is waiting for her happily ever after. Things I can't offer her. However, it'd be good to check on Myra.

So, I text her.

Ty: Thanks for the pic. I can't wait to pick Myra up from school.

That's good, right? Should I have added tomorrow? Does it sound dumb?

"It's a text, not the next American novel, idiot," I mutter under my breath.

I set down the phone, content to wait however long it takes for her reply. Maybe she'll just ignore me, and I'll see her tomorrow or . . . Wednesday? I hope that I get a glimpse of her before that. A brief exchange where I can see her, hear her voice and obviously lust after her. Because it seems like it's the only thing I do when she's around.

Indie: Why don't I plan on picking her up? Just in case the flight gets delayed, or my brother thinks there has to be a meeting.

Ty: I'm pretty sure that won't happen. Jude hates meetings. But why don't I text you if I don't make it on time?

Indie: Sounds like a plan.

I should leave it at that, but I, of course, don't know how to leave enough alone.

Ty: How's everything going? Did she have a good day at school?

Indie: Yep, and we did some homework before and after dinner.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

Ty: Kindergarteners have homework now?

Indie: Not usually, but the teacher wants her to work on her fine motor skills.

Ty: And what exactly do you have to do?

Indie: I brought a few games and things with me. We played Operation. Tomorrow, we'll be sorting Mom's bucket of buttons and on Friday, we'll probably bake cookies.

Ty: And eating cookies helps somehow? (Glances skeptically)

Indie: Yeah, you can work on her fine motor skills while decorating them.

Ty: I'm not sure if that's educational but it definitely sounds delicious.

Indie: And it is pretty rewarding if you like sugar.

This small talk feels strained, yet I don't want to let her go just yet. It's difficult to steer the conversation beyond Myra. I want to ask more about her. What did she study? Why is she working for the Seattle Sasquatches or . . . I just want to learn everything about her. Is that crossing a line? Probably. So, I stick to our safe topic. My child.

Ty: But overall, she had a good day?

Indie: Yep. She's bummed though. Dave didn't want to come out from under my bed.

Ty: She's been wanting to hold him since the first time he visited the house.

Indie: And she will, once he's comfortable with this place—and her. She'll have to wait until he comes to her.

Ty: This is a good way to teach her patience, I guess.

Indie: It's a good lesson indeed. Especially in a world of instant gratification.

Ty: So you like to be rewarded right away too? You behave like a good girl?

I freeze as soon as I hit send, eyes wide. Did I really just flirt via text? And I swallow hard when I read her response.

Indie: It all depends. Sometimes being on the edge of desire is better than just getting IT right away. Though, I'm not always a good girl—bad girls get rewarded too.

My mouth goes dry. Is she implying what I think? I should leave it alone, but some reckless part of me wants to nudge just a little further . . . see if she takes the bait. Sexting today. Tomorrow . . . No, I need to stop that thought. This is crossing a major line. I sigh with relief when I receive another text from her.

Indie: We got off track. But to answer your question about waiting for rewards, I can tell you that my parents taught me patience. When I was growing up, I always wanted a cat, but I didn't get one until my tenth birthday. She's a beautiful Russian Blue named Kiki.

That's not the kind of pussy I want to discuss, but I guess I'll take this little piece of information.

Ty: I take it you don't have her anymore.

Indie: I mean, she's still around but lives happily with my parents.

Ty: Hence why you got Bowie?

Indie: I got him several years later, but yes. Did you have pets while growing up?

Ty: No. My mother was barely able to keep up with us.

Indie: How many siblings do you have?

Ty: A brother and a sister. How about you? Which one of the Decker twins is your father?

I regret the last question though as I recall Jude mentioned her being a very private person who didn't like to talk about their family.

Indie: That's classified information. I only feel comfortable releasing such details to my close friends. Though, I want to clarify that they're triplets—Aunt Ainsly is not in show business though.

Ty: We might not be friends yet, but I'm trusting you with my daughter.

Indie: True.

Ty: So . . .

Indie: This stays between us. I'm Jacob's daughter and have six siblings. Obviously, you know about Jude. He's the oldest along with his twin, Gabe. Though if you ask them, they'll say Gabe is the oldest. Then we have Harper, Lyric, Lyndon, and Coda.

Ty: So, you're the baby?

Indie: Nope. I fall between Lyric and Lyndon. Do you get along with your brother and your sister?

I scoff. Me getting along with those two that would be like . . . I don't even know how to describe my relationship with them. Rocky? That's too simple. If I don't see them again that'll be too soon. Abelard and Anastasia are . . . Is there even a word to describe them? I settle for a casual response though.

Ty: Not really.

Indie: That long pause means something. It's okay if you don't want to talk about them.

Ty: Thank you for respecting my privacy.

Indie: Just treating you how I'd want to be treated. No pressure to share what you're not ready to.

Ty: So, you have some secrets too, huh?

Indie: Everyone has secrets.

Ty: But someone knows yours, right?

Indie: Nope. It's safer to keep them locked away, right where they belong, in the dark.

Ty: That sounds awfully whimsical.

Indie: There's nothing magical about them. It's just . . . I made a few mistakes when I was younger, and I'd rather not disclose them to anyone.

I smirk, nudging back.

Ty: Let me guess . . . you blew curfew a few times?

Indie: (releases maniacal laugh)

Ty: Clearly that's not it then.

Indie: Nope. I never had the need to do something like that. The times I wanted to skip school I would ask permission from my parents.

Ty: That doesn't sound fun or daring.

Indie: My aunt's the principal—and our neighbor. You can see how playing hooky would have been stupid.

Ty: Then what secrets are you harboring? I can't possibly think of anything a person like you could've done. Underage drinking?

Indie: Leave it, you'll never guess.

I shake my head with a wry smile. The mystery only makes her more intriguing. Still, I can't resist prodding.

Ty: You can't blame me for trying to uncover the enigma that is Indigo Decker.

Indie: Nothing enigmatic here, I'm pretty boring! YOU on the other hand . . . You're a puzzle and there's not much about you online.

I freeze, my smile fading. Wherever she's going with this feels like dangerous territory. Still I ask: How so?

Indie: A single dad hockey star—now that's intriguing. No current girlfriend? No word on Myra's mom?

I stiffen. The old defenses rising quickly. That's a question that never comes up in a conversation and my publicist and agent know that it is off-limits. I should call them and ask why they haven't told the Seattle Sasquatches. And since it is clear that Indie isn't aware of that, I say, Leave it.

Indie: (smirks innocently) I see.

I recoil slightly.

Ty: What does that mean?

Indie: I seem to have stumbled onto your Achilles' heel.

My jaw tightens. Myra isn't a weakness—her mother on the other hand . . . that situation is complicated. Uncomfortably so. If I can help it, that's something I'll never disclose to anyone. Not even my own child.

After a long pause, Indie texts back, It's okay. You don't have to go all silent on me. I get it though. There are things that shall remain in the dark.

I exhale, shoulders loosening. She's right—if her hidden past is half as complex as my own, I understand her need for privacy all too well. Sometimes I wish I could open up about Myra's origins, but experience has taught me caution about whom to trust.

Ty: Thank you for understanding.

Indie: Go to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.

Ty: Talk soon.

I set down my phone, weariness settling over me. As I prep for bed, my thoughts keep drifting back to Indie. Will we ever trust each other enough to share our secrets and more?