Chapter 7

Stepping into the crisp chill of the arena from the cozy warmth of home, a blend of comfort and anticipation settles over me. The unique sound of the rink—the scrape of skates, the distant thud of pucks, the muffled calls of players—fills the air, grounding me in the reality of the day ahead.

Hockey was the constant in a childhood of variables, beginning at age six in the Rhode Island Club for Underprivileged Kids. For me, it was a lot more than a game. It was my lifeline, a way to channel energy and emotion when life at home became too much. A way to get snacks and food when my mother didn't have money or chose to buy booze instead of feeding me. It also gave me a sense of belonging and direction during those hard years.

I spent so much time perfecting my game that opportunities opened—private clubs wanted me on their roster, leading to coveted scholarships. Then recruitment from high schools and eventually the full ride to play college hockey. The cherry on top was being able to play professionally. Making a living of the one thing that might've saved my life while growing up.

Stepping into the locker room transports me back through those formative years as I don my gear. The rest of the world narrows to my singular focus—preparation and leading this team ahead. I change quickly, the ritual as familiar as breathing.

With my armor in place, I stride out of the locker room, the sounds of the rink growing louder, more insistent. The sharp scent of the ice, mixed with the faint aroma of rubber and steel from the equipment—I'm home.

Jude Decker is there by the edge of the rink, tablet in hand, next to the coaches. Probably making notes for tomorrow's game.

"Jude," I call out as I reach him.

"Ty, I'm glad you could make it on time," he states. "I take it Indie arrived at your house as requested."

"Indie?" I furrow my brow and then I remembered the woman from the relocation team telling Myra her name was Indie. "Yeah, Indigo Walker arrived earlier than I expected."

He arches an eyebrow, his piercing blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Right, Indigo Walker. I hope you're happy with this temporary arrangement. You couldn't ask for better. Myra is in very capable hands."

I nod. "Though I do trust you, I'm wondering if you had run a background check or . . ." I shrug, my shoulders tense. "No offense, I'm sure your employees are trustworthy, but as a single dad I can't take any chances."

"I trust Indie completely," he assures me, a grin playing on his lips.

"How well do you know her?

He rolls his eyes, "For years. You shouldn't worry about Myra."

"She's been working for you for years? I mean, she's what, like twenty-one?" I ask and regret the question right away. Who the fuck cares about her age?

You, asshole. You do because that little thing isn't just pretty, she's . . . keep those thoughts buried. You're a single dad who can't afford fucking things with the only person who can care for your child.

"Twenty-six," he corrects and laughs. "You should mention to her that she looks like she's barely eighteen. She hates it." The wicked grin of satisfaction reminds me of his earlier comment. How he's enjoying making this woman the nanny.

I frown. "I take it you two know each other well."

"Really well. She's also my confidante. Which is why I know your daughter is in good hands," he assures me. "Don't worry about it."

"It's just . . . I like to have everything under control," I admit, watching a rookie execute a drill with more enthusiasm than accuracy. "Not knowing her exact qualifications or if she'll be able to find someone full time is somehow unnerving."

Jude chuckles. "Ty, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that control is just an illusion, especially when it comes to family. And hockey," he adds with a wink. "But it's how we adapt that counts. Indigo adapting to nanny duty. You adapting to changes off the ice. It's all part of the game."

His words strike a chord and maybe he's right. I have to learn to adapt.

I've been told that my biggest flaw is trying to control everything. But what's the alternative? I want my child to grow up in an organized household where she has a schedule and there are no surprises. Yet, there's always something going on, like a mother who didn't want her daughter or a grandmother who can only help me when it's convenient, or . . . There's always something disrupting our lives.

Glancing at Jude, I know this is way above his pay grade. He hired me to play hockey and lead the team to win games. Not to deal with my personal life. So, I say, "Well, I know I already said it, but thank you so much for helping me."

"Anytime," Jude says, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now, let's get to it. We've got a game to prepare for, and I need my captain's head in the game."

I nod and as I'm about to walk onto the ice he says, "Ty, when Indie appeared into our lives, she brightened everything. Trust that she'll find the puzzles to make your life just perfect. She always does."

I narrow my gaze. Are they in a relationship? Well, knowing she's off-limits takes the tension between us away and I can focus more on what matters.

As I fall into the rhythm of practice, the sound of pucks against the boards, the shout of coaches, and the drills, the weight of the morning's worries dissipate. When it comes to the ice, it's easy to adapt. It's when I'm outside that's when I have trouble adjusting to . . . Well, almost everything.