Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

Niko

Three hours earlier

The new coach is a hardass—good. That is exactly what this team needs: discipline, purpose, and accountability. Roman ran a tight ship as captain, and Dan-O does his best to fill Roman's shoes and keep everyone's feet to the fire. But from everything I have seen, heard, and read these past few months—as well as throughout the meeting that just adjourned—Coach Andre Marsh will deliver a firm brand of leadership even Ivan would approve of.

Ivan was the original hardass of hockey back home, and I would not have had it any other way. He always said, "A player without an impossible challenge before him has no reason to rise." That was just one of the many nuggets of wisdom he enjoyed dispensing. "Do or do not. There is no try" was another favorite, which, to his dying day, he insists he coined long before Yoda came around.

When Coach Bowman and the franchise heads officially introduced Coach March at our team meeting tonight, mixed emotions flashed over Coach Bowman's face. It is the end of a chapter. The man has dedicated such an enormous part of his life to the Storm Chasers, he deserves to enjoy a long retirement with a new focus. His impact on all our lives cannot be understated, and we owe him much gratitude. Me, especially.

Benny embraces Coach Bowman just inside the door while I stand back and watch my fellow teammates. Dan-O and Money are deep in conversation with Coach Marsh while the younger players exchange back slaps and laughs, many having not seen each other since early June.

When Benny backs away, I believe I detect a wayward tear in the corner of his eye. The man only gets sappier the further Kaitlyn's pregnancy progresses. By the time she gives birth, he will be a blubbering mess. Cappy quickly takes Benny's place in front of Coach Bowman as Benny flicks a hand across his eyes while glancing around to make sure nobody notices.

His gaze catches on mine, and he freezes before shrugging and loping over my way.

"What can I say? I'm gonna miss the guy."

My only response is a grunt, a perfect reflection of my dark mood. I was nearly late to the meeting after entering the practice facility earlier to see Roadie and Chloe embracing on the ice. I stalked into the locker room after Roadie, intent on ripping his head off and shoving it up his impertinent ass. But he must not be as stupid as I believed him to be because he had already made himself scarce.

By the time he slipped into the media room, the team meeting had already begun, and I did not want my first impression on my new coach to include a homicide.

It is my sincerest hope that Chloe is not allowing Roadie to waste her time. The last thing she deserves is a partner whose idea of a good time includes lighting his farts on fire and picking fights with opposing teams' rookies.

While it is none of my business, of course, I feel protective of Chloe. If I am being honest, I feel a variety of things for Chloe, none of which I can ever entertain again, however. I have already done too much damage.

In the absence of a real reply, Benny feels compelled to continue this conversation alone. "I see it's still grumpy season."

My glare only makes him grin.

"You don't happen to have any coal lying around the house, do you?" he asks.

"Have you taken a puck to the skull?" What else could explain his arbitrary question?

He continues as if I have not spoken. "'Cause you could have a pile of diamonds in a matter of days if you tucked a few lumps of coal in those clenched fists."

My jaw tightens as I frown at him and force my hands to relax at my sides.

Benny points at my face with another grin. "Or between your molars."

"Leave me," I dismiss Benny, not in the mood for his jokes.

"Wish I could," he says, although he does not sound very regretful. "But you're a ticking time bomb, Druggy, and I'm not the only one who's noticed."

At his comment, I dart my gaze around the room. He is correct. Several pairs of eyes flash away, their owners doing a shitty job of hiding their curiosity.

Shit.

"Explain," I demand.

Benny sighs and settles against the wall next to me. "Dude, you have been a complete bear these last couple weeks, snapping at everyone like a wild hyena and stalking around the place like you're plotting a decidedly violent coup."

Instead of allowing his words to sink in, I retort, "Which is it? Am I a bear or a hyena? I cannot be both."

"How about a jackass?"

My glare intensifies, but behind my eyes, my mind is working over his earlier statement. "It is the custody issue–that is where the dog is buried."

Benny's eyes bulge. "You killed your dog!? I knew you were in a mood, but what the fuck, man?!"

I respond with growing impatience, "It is an expression, you moron."

"Why are Russian expressions so terrifying?" He looks like he's sweating.

I consider reminding him of the English phrase, There is more than one way to skin a cat , but I refrain. "My mood, as you put it, is from the custody fight," I lie as I return us to the topic. "I will temper my behavior when training camp begins next week."

"Custody, my ass. You think our women don't talk?"

My pulse jumps. "What women?" Could he possibly suspect?

"Kaitlyn, Olivia, Sara, Chloe ." His emphasis on the last name is so exaggerated it's almost comical—and it causes my heart to thump wildly in my ribcage.

"Explain," I repeat my earlier command as beads of sweat begin pricking at my temples.

Benny shakes his head with something too closely resembling pity for my liking. "Man, everybody knows you won your case. Chloe told us." He drops a hand on my shoulder. "And we're damn happy for you. You deserve to have equal time with your little whippersnapper."

Okay. I suppose it makes sense that she might have shared the news. Those of my teammates who remained in Tampa this offseason knew she was Ayana's nanny.

"Thank you," I manage, still wary.

He waves me off, intent on whatever point he is trying to make. "So, don't you think it's odd that a man who just won an agonizing two-year battle would immediately turn around and act as if he just found out he accidentally married his sister?"

"Do not think about my sister." My response is more reflexive than anything.

Benny rolls his eyes and sighs. "You know, Druggy, you need to wake up and stop getting in your own way." When I don't respond, he pats my shoulder again. "Just think about it." Then he walks away to join the conversation with Coach Marsh.

I return my focus to Coach Bowman, who is laughing at something Forns said. Benny obviously suspects something, even if he did not come right out and say it. Does Coach suspect as well? I wonder again if I should come clean, even though there is no longer anything going on between his daughter and me. It is the honorable thing to do.

As if sensing my thoughts, Coach turns his head and locks gazes with me. His laugh peters out as he holds my eyes. I cannot discern his expression. It almost resembles sadness mixed with a dose of that compassion his daughter is so good at. But I must be mistaken. Perhaps he is secretly plotting my painful death by torture.

But that would not be his way. This is a man who, despite no longer being employed by the team, continues to monitor my progress with Cappy and Mac as if his own future depends on the outcome. He is a man of great integrity, and he will always have my respect. I only endeavor to deserve his in return going forward.

I muster a ghost of a smile and nod at him, hoping the gesture communicates what I want it to. Coach returns a similarly weak smile and nods back before his attention is seized by Roadie coming in hot for a hug that borders on inappropriate. That boy needs a lesson, but I am suddenly not in the mood to be the teacher.

"Hello, Paul," I greet the dog before setting my keys on the entry table. He has grown quickly since his first days with us as a pup. He obediently sits, tail wagging against the wood floor as I scratch behind his ears.

"Dad!" Ayana tears around the corner, still wearing the Storm Chasers sweatshirt she donned for practice earlier. I brought her to the rink, but her babysitter picked her up and delivered her home since my team meeting ran longer than the practice.

My mind goes back to Chloe standing defiantly on her skates and giving me that challenging look. I have avoided her as much as possible, for both our sakes. I never intended to hurt her, and I still do not entirely understand how things went so far off the rails.

She only thinks she loves me, though. It is in her nature to become attached to people and focus only on their good qualities—and, in my case, invent some that do not actually exist. Chloe does not know me. We have— had —sexual chemistry, and she is perhaps the most decent human being I have met. That is the long and short of it.

She will get over this misplaced preoccupation and realize I am not worth her time or thought. Hell, based on the interaction with Roadie I witnessed, perhaps she already has.

"Kara and I made you a present," Ayana announces.

"A present? What did I do to deserve this?" If anything, my recent mood has earned me punishment, not gifts.

"Duh. You're my dad." Ayana says this as though it is an irrefutable rule of the universe.

I follow her to the living room, where Kara rests on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Kara is Dan-O's baby sister who just graduated from college and hasn't found the right job yet. Since she had great references and I know her brother—and she passed the background check as well as social media vetting for red-flag behavior—she has been watching Ayana here and there when our schedules require it. I am still interviewing for a long-term nanny, but no one has been the right fit thus far.

Peyton has been surprisingly cooperative about the custody calendar, and Ayana and I are currently in the middle of a two-week stretch together. We have already established a routine that has been my only source of joy since that last night at Chloe's condo.

We wake up early each morning, and I cook breakfast while Ayana gets ready for school and feeds Paul. Then we take him for a walk before I shower and get ready. Ayana insists on using that time to practice her kitchen skills and pack lunches for both of us. I do not have the heart to tell her that Mac and Cappy often eat mine—especially when she packs her lopsided peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I do not understand Americans' obsession with a substance that seems to have no purpose other than sealing one's tongue to the roof of his mouth. Still, I will never tell her to stop making them.

I drop her off at school and either go for my workout or meet up with Mac and Cappy for drills or more training. I leave the rink just in time to pick Ayana up after school, and we work on her homework or a puzzle together while sharing a snack. It is the cozy life I have longed for with my daughter, but I cannot escape the feeling that something is missing. I refuse to think too hard about it because this is what I have strived for all this time, and I will not be ungrateful for any of it.

"Hey, Mr. Drugov." Kara looks up from her phone to greet me. She has the same light hair as Dan-O, but has luckily inherited everything else from their mother. I nod my hello, and she continues, "I didn't know Ayana was such a talented artist."

I glance down at my daughter, who is beaming at her sitter. I run my hand over her head, ruffling her fine blond tresses. "You must get that from your tetya Safiya."

Ayana's eyes widen. "Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you my aunt is a painter. People pay her for her pictures and everything," she informs Kara.

"Cool." Kara stands, setting her phone on the coffee table before lifting a small gift bag from beside it. "You should do the honors," she says to Ayana. My daughter rushes over to snatch the bag and then skips back to me.

"Open it!" she invites, extending the paper bag.

I take it with a smile and gently lift the tissue paper hiding its contents. Ayana takes the paper and bounces on her toes with a wide grin as she waits for me to withdraw the gift.

My breath catches when I remove it from the bag, finding that my daughter has painted and decorated a small picture frame holding a snapshot of Chloe and me. I recognize it from a night the three of us took Paul for a walk and he began jumping and barking at fireworks lighting the sky from a nearby park. The sounds coming from the dog kept escalating until he was belting out extended yearning howls that had all three of us bent over laughing. I did not even know Ayana had her phone with her that night, much less took a photo.

Chloe, looking gorgeous as always, is leaning into me with a hand to my chest and I...I am gazing down at her—there is no other word for it—with naked affection and an expression of pure happiness. An evening with just my daughter, her howling dog, and the most beautiful, sweet, and charming woman on earth. In other words...my wildest dream come true–even though I never meant to dream it in the first place.