Chapter 3

Hoping that Jude Decker wasn't just overpromising so he would get me to the rink on time, I finish my coffee with a sigh and then head upstairs to wake Myra up.

I open the door to her room slowly, wincing as it creaks, and tiptoe across the plush carpet on quiet feet. Early morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a peaceful glow about the room. Myra is curled among a sea of blankets and a mountain of stuffed animals, her chest gently rising and falling in sleep's embrace.

"Good morning, sunshine," I whisper, brushing a featherlight kiss to her head.

Slowly, she drifts back from the land of dreams, her long lashes fluttering as her green eyes blink open to meet mine.

"Morning, Daddy," she mumbles, her voice a sweet, drowsy melody that fills the room with warmth. A big yawn stretches across her face and she reaches for the sky, fingers unfurling like a cat waking to sunlight.

"How did you sleep, pumpkin?" I ask, perching on the edge of her bed, unable to hold back a smile as she rubs the last remnants of sleep from her eyes.

"Good . . . I dreamt we had a real cat, and you promised to buy me a unicorn," she whispers, her face lighting up with the remembered magic of her dreams.

I poke her nose playfully. "That sounds wonderful, but I don't think it's something we can do right now," I say ruefully.

"I know, unicorns are tricky to find in this world." She grins, showcasing the gap where her front tooth used to be. "But you can always bring a kitty home."

With what I'm about to tell her, a unicorn would be a great consolation prize. I mean, this poor child has gone through too many changes since . . . Well, since she was born.

First, her mother decided she wasn't fit to raise a kid. After that, we moved around twice. There were also all the trips she took with me to games because I didn't want her to stay at home with the nanny for days. This was the first year she would have stayed with Gemma while I traveled to games.

Maybe signing here wasn't the wisest choice at my age. As a free agent I can pick my team, but some franchises get leery of players nearing retirement who risk more injuries. Still, it wasn't like I could refuse the generous offer. Providing for Myra has to be my priority, even if it means major life shifts.

"But cats are pretty and my teacher said they're self-rentable." Myra pipes up hopefully, her green eyes round and pleading. "My teacher said so."

I chuckle, poking her nose again. "I think you mean self-reliant, munchkin."

She scrunches her nose. "Maybe?"

I can't help but smile. This kid always tries to logic her way into getting what she wants, whether it's cats, unicorns, or . . . Well, the list keeps growing. It's so hard to deny those big puppy-dog eyes.

Before she campaigns for a pony next, I have to break the news. "So Gemma called this morning," I begin gently.

Myra stills, excitement dimming. "Is she gonna be late today? You get to take me to school today?"

"I wish that were the case, sweet pea." I brush a wayward strand of hair from her face, bracing myself. "Actually, she called to let us know she's moving back to Florida. Her family needs her there."

Myra goes very still, processing this shift in her small world. "So, she's not gonna be here today?" she finally asks, voice wobbling with uncertainty.

I draw her into my lap, embracing her close, wishing I could erase the scrunched look from her dear face. "No, baby. What I meant is she won't be coming back at all. She had to move back to Florida for good," I explain gently, giving her little hand a reassuring squeeze.

Her lip wobbles as she thinks hard. "Can we go to Florida too? I need my family too," she requests plaintively. My heart clenches at her pinched little face. "Grandma could take care of me."

I smooth back her hair, wishing I could grant her request. "I'm sorry, pumpkin, that's just not possible right now. But, hey, today you get to come with me to the ice rink until it's time for school. We'll have a blast together," I say brightly, trying to inject some enthusiasm despite the guilt swirling in my gut.

She gazes at me for a long moment before finally asking in a small voice, "Can I bring Mr. Whiskers?"

"Mr. Whiskers is always welcome," I assure, relieved to see excitement rekindling behind the sheen of tears. Crisis seemingly averted, at least for now. If only I could get a sitter.

"And I don't hafta wear the itchy sweater?" She scrunches her nose worriedly.

"No itchy sweaters today, I promise." I squeeze her hand, then set her back into the bed. "You can pick out your favorite outfit while I get ready. Maybe those leggings with the rainbows you love?"

"Okay, Daddy," she chirps, a spark of excitement finally glimmering in her eyes. "But I get to pick my own breakfast because Gemma's not here, right?"

I laugh softly. "Within reason, baby girl."

Myra slides off the bed to rifle through her clothes, seeming to accept our new reality even if it's not her first choice. I take a deep breath and head to my room to finish getting ready for this unexpected day, hoping I can be half as adaptable as my daughter. That's when the doorbell rings, a simple chime that feels like the starting buzzer of a hockey game I'm unprepared for.

I shuffle down the stairs, raking a hand through my hair, trying futilely to brush off the lingering stress. When I swing open the door, I'm definitely not ready for the woman standing on my doorstep.