Chapter 20

TWENTY

Canyon

I fucked up.

I knew it the minute Saylor and I started talking about the girlfriend thing, but then Stevie interrupted, and they left before I could fix it.

Damn everything all to hell.

I'm beyond pissed off.

At myself, at my sister, and at the situation.

I can't be mad at Ally because she's just a kid and none of this is her fault. She certainly has made everything more complicated than it needs to be, though. I understand why she's mad, and her mom almost definitely told her things to make her hate me, but I don't know how to fix it without telling her the truth about her dad.

And she's so damn young to hear that reality.

How do you tell a child she was sexually abused as a toddler?

I don't know if Carly ever dealt with it, talked about it, or gotten either of them help. Carly was being physically and mentally abused, and then I'd caught Ally's father—I grimace and shake the visual from my mind.

It had been horrifying then.

It's still just as gross and sickening now.

I have zero regrets about beating the living shit out of the guy.

Or setting the subsequent chain of events in motion.

Carly sided with Ally's dad, Shawn.

My mother had been dying.

My father chose the path that would upset my mother the least and protect my future in hockey.

My father paid Shawn to leave and never come back, and we lost my mom within the week.

At the funeral, Carly told us she was taking Ally and starting over in Chicago.

She blamed me for Shawn leaving them, and said she needed space.

And that was essentially the end of our family.

I hoped that with Shawn out of the picture, they would be okay, but I hadn't known she'd gotten addicted to drugs or started dealing to support her habit.

Later, when I got my first big NHL contract, I started sending money for her birthday and at Christmas. She never called or thanked me, but she'd cashed the checks.

Now she's gone and dragged me into her life by default.

Leaving poor Ally stuck in the middle and me having the biggest crisis of my life.

My father thinks I'm crazy for getting involved, and he and his new wife have no plans to help. When I reminded him that none of this is Ally's fault, he replied that she isn't his problem. And shouldn't be mine either. He felt he hadn't been a good father to Carly, so the last thing he wants is to mess up with her daughter too.

Except it's not that easy.

Putting her in foster care doesn't guarantee she'll get adopted by a nice family.

I discovered that there were more bruises than just that black eye, telling me she wasn't safe in that group home. She can hate me, but I won't let anyone hurt her, so going back to that setting isn't happening.

Living with me isn't ideal, but it's the only option we have at the moment.

And I've already done something incredibly stupid because of it.

It's ironic that I finally meet a woman who makes me rethink my position on almost everything and then immediately have to take custody of my niece. I don't know what the universe is trying to tell me, but it's not funny.

"Come on, get dressed," I tell Ally.

She looks up from the box of cereal she's eating out of with a frown. "Why? Where are we going?"

"Lots of stuff to do," I say. "Get a move on. And brush your teeth!" I yell as she slinks down the hall to the guest room she's commandeered.

I live in a condo. It's plenty big enough for a single guy, with three bedrooms and two-and-a-half bathrooms, but it feels incredibly small now that Ally's here. Like I need to buy a house immediately, even though that's ridiculous. Twenty-five hundred square feet is more than enough for a single guy and an eleven-year-old.

Right?

She's still in the bathroom when the intercom rings and the security guard downstairs tells me that a Ms. Stephanie Marchand is here to see me.

What's Stevie doing here?

I tell him to let her up and wait for her by the door.

"Stevie." I immediately reach out to the large, flat package she's carrying.

And my heart sinks because I know what it is.

"What're you doing here?" I ask.

She gives me a strange look. "Making a delivery for Saylor."

"The painting."

She nods. "Yes. She wants you to have it."

"She's mad, huh?"

Stevie cocks her head. "I wouldn't say that. I think you hurt her feelings."

Great.

In some ways, that's worse.

"Stevie!" For some reason, Stevie is the only person Ally's met so far that she seems to genuinely like. They spent the whole evening together at the game the other night and Ally had talked about her non-stop since then. "What are you doing here? Are we going shopping?"

A burst of hope shoots through me.

If Stevie takes her shopping, I can go see Saylor.

Apologize.

Explain.

Somehow make it up to her.

"I'm delivering a painting your uncle bought," Stevie says, "but I am free the rest of the afternoon. We closed the gallery so if you want to go shopping, and it's okay with Canyon, we can hit the mall." She gives me a look that tells me she knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"You need clothes," I say, pulling out my wallet. "And I'm not the best person to take a young woman shopping." I just went to the bank yesterday, so there's almost a thousand dollars in my wallet. I hand five hundred-dollar bills to Stevie. "She needs a backpack for school. It can be any size, design, or color, but no profanity—" I give Ally a look. "And no text other than a brand name. It can say Nike but it can't say Nickelback."

"What's a Nickelback?" Ally asks, wrinkling her nose.

Stevie laughs, taking the money. "Got it."

"She needs…underthings too. I'm guessing you know what's appropriate for an eleven-year-old? Bras and panties and stuff?" I'd noticed she didn't wear a bra but she needed to. For one thing, it was a rule of the school she was starting, but the truth was, she was filling out.

Stevie hesitates.

"What?" I ask.

"I know what I think is appropriate for a girl her age, but what I think may not match what you think or what she wants."

I sigh. "Look, she's eleven. She's not wearing thongs or push-up bras that are going to make her hang out of her tops. Beyond that, we're good."

Stevie chews the inside of her cheek.

"Now what?" I demand.

"You know five hundred bucks isn't going to buy her a whole new wardrobe, right?"

"Can we start with bras, underwear, socks and…" I give Ally a pointed look before turning back to Stevie. " Toiletries . She's not a fan of deodorant or shampoo. And I'm not sure how to get that point across."

"Okay, kiddo." Stevie seems to understand what I need from her. "Are you ready? Because we have a lot to do. And a lot to talk about."

Ally groans. "You're supposed to be the cool grown-up."

"I am spectacularly cool," Stevie tells her, "but you're still eleven and need to listen when someone says deodorant is important. Now, come on. We'll go shopping and get dinner. I'll bring her home around…" She meets my gaze questioningly. "Eight?"

It's not even noon.

Which means I have the whole day to spend with Saylor.

Assuming she even wants to see me.

I'm so grateful I want to kiss her, but just nod instead. "Thank you. That's perfect. I really appreciate this. And if you spend the whole five hundred, just bring me receipts and I'll pay you back."

" If we spend the whole five hundred?" Stevie and Ally burst out laughing.

Great.

They're ganging up on me.

But that's okay.

I don't care about the money.

All I care about is getting to Saylor.

And less than an hour later, I pull into her driveway.

I showered and stopped to pick up a mountain of flowers.

Hopefully, they'll be enough to at least get her to open the door because I don't know how upset she is.

"Look at you, turning on the romance!" Saylor's neighbor, Joel, calls out from where he's just getting out of his red pickup truck.

It will probably piss off Saylor even more if I punch him in the face, so I just wave and keep walking.

I knock and it takes a couple of minutes before she comes to the door.

"Canyon." She looks surprised to see me, but I lean in to kiss her anyway. Probably more for Joel's sake than my own.

Something about him annoys the hell out of me.

"Hey. Can I come in?" I ask.

"Are those for me?" she asks, reaching for the bouquet of wildflowers.

"No." I shake my head solemnly. "I was going to give them to the lady next door."

She rolls her eyes before snatching them out of my hand. "No way. They're mine now!"

She looks deliciously disheveled in paint-stained green overalls, a long-sleeve gray T-shirt, and bare feet. Her hair is in a messy bun and there's a smudge of paint on her nose, but she still looks gorgeous to me.

"Come on in," she says as she pads toward the kitchen, flowers in hand. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to thank you for the painting and ask you why you had Stevie deliver it."

She doesn't turn as she fills a vase with water. "You know why, Canyon. Don't play games."

"I'm not." I reach for her, but she resists.

"Look." She turns to face me. "I get why you did it. I understand what's happening in your life and how it would look to your eleven-year-old niece that you're holding hands with some woman who isn't your girlfriend. What were you supposed to say? She's my fuck buddy? I know she put you on the spot. But I think we can gently back pedal without making a big deal out of it. We can just spend less and less time together, and you can even say I moved on or?—"

"Fuck that. No. Stop." I shake my head. "I fucked up. I know I did. But if you'll give me a chance, I'd like the opportunity to make it right."