Chapter 2

I now understandwhy my best friend Clancy's mother looked exhausted after a couple of hours in the car with us in the back singing "99 Bottles of (Root) Beer on the Wall." Have to keep it PG for the kid.

Blue and I are on round ninety-nine, at least, when I introduce another childhood classic just to mix it up. Seamlessly blending the melody into, "The Song that Never Ends," I wince because maybe that was a mistake. The name says it all.

But she sings with gusto.

This is exactly what I'd hoped for during this day-long trip from Denver to Omaha. We could've flown, but that would've been complicated with Baloo and all our worldly possessions. Plus, I figured some bonding time was in order.

Typically, a slapshot is a good thing. In hockey, it's a power move, hopefully resulting in a goal.

Turns out, I don't envy the net. My life recently got a slapshot to the face, gut, liver, and spleen—a full-body takedown. If it's not obvious, I was the loser in a game I didn't realize I was playing.

Until a couple of months ago, my life was a cakewalk. I was a hockey hero...

Then I got into some hot water with the league which resulted in me getting a penalty box punishment I have to pay off this summer.

Then my girlfriend abruptly stopped fangirling over hockey—and me—and started dating a golfer. My swing is better. But go figure.

Then child services came. I got some intense news. Life-changing news when I thought I'd left my family behind. More on that in a minute—or ten, because I'm still processing this sudden change.

In this timeline, I also was traded from the LA Lions to the Nebraska Knights.

And here I am, on I-80, steadily heading east, back to my hometown where I never expected to return.

Sure, the Knights are a formidable team, but I was on the top of my game with the Lions. Didn't think they'd betray me like this. Lions for Life! was what we said.

I didn't have a no-trade clause in my contract, but I was their golden lion with the mane and all—hockey hair is a real thing.

Oh, and I got a haircut. It was a crisis moment before a court date for the custody case. I wanted to look presentable. Thankfully, I'd fully funded my dentist's Porsche a month prior, so I looked fairly civilized. Don't think the judge would've looked kindly on my missing incisor.

It's only when the Omaha skyline comes into view that I realize we've stopped singing.

Letting out a long sigh, Blue says, "This is my first time out of Colorado."

"Stick with me kid, we'll go places," I say in my best impression of a black and white television star from the old days.

Blue doesn't smile, but her lips ripple like that notion gives her hope.

"It's true. I've been all over the country and traveled quite a bit internationally, too." All thanks to the sport that saved my hide.

As if still unsure about this arrangement, I try to make her as at ease as possible. After getting the news, I didn't have time to think about how my life was about to change until I was alone in a bar back in LA—all but singing the "99 Bottles" song.

Setting down my drink, I took a long walk, not stopping until I reached the Pacific Ocean. I plopped down on the sand and thought about the decision I made. About what agreeing to take custody of Blue meant. There were a few moments of me lamenting what I was giving up. Then the tough days of my childhood came to mind like discarded photographs. Taking care of Blue gives me the chance to offer her what I never had growing up—except for the times I was at Clancy's house, which was often. I was grateful for the Reids, but it wasn't quite the same.

Those hours of pondering on the beach with the waves breaking in the background were a turning point...and here we are, heading to the place I pledged never to return to. Ironic, in a way.

"Welcome to Omaha, but we're not staying in the city. We'll be in a suburb. That's like a small town near a city. It's called Cobbiton." It's a surprise she doesn't comment on the name like so many other people have when I've mentioned it.

I glance at Blue. Blank-faced, she stares out the window as if in her short six years, she learned to keep her expectations low.

Cobbiton is the kind of place that hasn't changed much in decades and has a charming Main Street, lots of community spirit, and the "Barn," the ice skating rink that I practically called home.

I add, "When I was a kid, I liked the school here because rumor had it there were secret passages."

This piques her interest. "Did you ever find them?"

"No, but I stopped looking when I got really into hockey."

"I've never played hockey."

"You are missing out on the greatest sport on earth. Reddford Rules: Sunday morning church and Sunday afternoon ice time." I just made that up, but it seems like the right move now that I'm her father figure.

Blue's voice is small, as usual. "I've never been on skates."

"You're a proper Reddford now. We'll get you gliding along in no time." I hope.

I hope this kid loves hockey as much as I do.

"When I was your age, it was all hockey all the time." Still is mostly. "I ate, breathed, drank, and lived hockey. Ice hockey, street hockey, table hockey. No matter the season, the weather, my mood."

Blue interrupts, apparently snagged by something I said. "You ate hockey?"

I laugh. "No. You definitely don't want to eat a puck."

She seems to chew on this, figuratively, of course.

Hockey is the one thing in my life that has remained a constant and with all the change lately, I'm itching to get on the ice. I hope a lot of things for my sister who peers out the window as we pass brick buildings, shabby houses, and apartments. She has spoken little about herself, but I've gathered that she had it rough with no thanks to the people who were supposed to be taking care of her.

Before my thoughts turn dark about what I'd like to do to those people, the world seems to rewind as I travel down memory lane.

Even though we're not yet in Cobbiton, like a tour guide, I mention points of interest—my old high school, the Buy Bargain, and the mill that was converted into shops. "The Old Dog diner is still standing. No offense Baloo."

"He probably has to go soon," Blue says about the dog who'd howled when we started singing and then must've decided we weren't going to stop, so he went to sleep.

"Me too. We're meeting my best friend Clancy and his fiancée to get the keys to our new place. Well, where we'll live for the summer. Our condo will be ready this fall before the season starts." I don't want to bog Blue down with details, especially since it'll be a little while before we have a place of our own. I'm thankful I can provide her with the stability neither one of us ever had.

"You'll love our summer house. I spent a lot of time there as a kid. As for the condo, you can help pick out the paint color for your room and furniture if you'd like." Do kids enjoy stuff like that?

"Is a condo like an apartment?" Trepidation fills her voice.

"Yep. My new team, the Nebraska Knights, are providing it." That was probably too much info for a six-year-old.

"Does that mean they can un-provide it?"

She's sharp.

A little zing of nerves shoots through me. "Nah. It doesn't work that way." At least I don't think so.

I've been a professional hockey player for most of my adult life. During that time, I've had some girlfriends but only ever had to think about myself. This is unfamiliar territory. As far as I was concerned, it was the Redd Show—on and off the ice. Now, I have to think about Blue, which shines a spotlight on my future and what it would mean if they traded me again and we had to uproot.

Scrubbing my hand down my face, I pull into the parking lot of Lumio, an upscale lunch joint with outdoor dining.

Blue looks back at Baloo with a worried expression, as if fearing they"ll be separated.

"He can come. I checked. Let's grab some grub." I smile, hoping she'll do the same at some point.

First stop, visit with my best buddy Clancy. Second stop, a meeting with Coach Badaszek, team captain Micah Lemon, and Hayden Savage—left winger.

That will bore Blue out of her mind, so I'll have to come up with something fun for her afterward. I've never been a six-year-old girl so what that might be, I'll cross that ice when I come to it.

It's been over a year since I've seen Clancy. He was the high school golden boy, and I was the bad boy, but we were best friends. However, he's cleaned up significantly—nowadays, his hair is close-cropped and he's always freshly shaven.

We talk or text fairly regularly, so it's no surprise when we exchange a big, loud bro hug in greeting. Then he introduces me to his fiancée, Kathleen, who has the kind of put-together elegance that makes the best friend in me want to tell her all the gross things we used to do when we were kids.

I refrain, but I'll tell Blue about the time we dared each other to drink a concoction made from old ingredients in the fridge because I think it'll make her laugh. Well, not laugh because she hasn't done that so far. Maybe she'll find it humorous.

"Clancy and Kathleen, meet Blue and Baloo."

Clancy glances at me as if to ask me what kind of trouble I got myself into and makes a fuss over the dog—a mutt mix that kind of looks like a bear, hence the name. Kathleen waves with a lift of her hand. As far as I know, Blue hasn't had a female figure in her life for a long time—according to reports, her mother died a couple of years ago. I wasn't expecting Kathleen to be so reserved, considering Clancy's personality, and I hope this lunch isn't awkward.

We get set up at a table with Baloo at Blue's feet and a coloring sheet and crayons at her place setting. She outlines the image of a bunch of balloons.

When the waitress appears to take our order, she asks Blue what she'd like. The little girl stares at her coloring sheet and then glances at me.

Leaning in, I whisper, "Anything you want, kiddo."

The first time we stopped to get food, she couldn't believe that she could have anything on the menu. It took a while for me to explain that she really could have anything to eat at mealtime. I've also gathered she experienced a feast or famine situation until now. If I have anything to say about it, this kid will have the best life from here on out.

After the server jots down our order, Clancy says, "I seem to remember you pledging never to come back here unless it was to crush the Knights. How the tables turn." He explains to Kathleen that the Nebraska Knights were our favorite hockey team when we were growing up, but then I jumped on the LA Lions bandwagon.

"It's not like I had a say in what team drafted me." Or that I got traded.

We talk sports for a few minutes, which probably bores Blue and Kathleen out of their minds, but I'll admit that it's refreshing after long stints of silence on the ride east or what felt like hours of singing the same song verses repeatedly. What do adults and kids talk about?

"So, tell me what you did to—" Clancy starts.

I'm afraid he's going to say something suggestive about my history with women, insinuating a falsehood about my character. In the last few days, I've taken a crash course in how to behave properly around children and be a good role model. Talking about my romantic past isn't appropriate, so I interrupt.

"Got into hot water and am spending the summer in the proverbial penalty box." I recount taking a team prank too far. "But that's not why I was traded to the Knights." Or why my ex cheated on me or why I'm suddenly, basically, a single dad.

"I thought you were having a mid-ice crisis."

"Ha ha," I say dryly.

"Considering what you did to the Wisconsin Warriors, it's a good thing you're no longer on the Lions, otherwise, you might face retribution," Clancy says, referring to what got me in the penalty box.

Pranks are common in hockey, but I took the fall for the team when we had a little fun with the Warriors' jerseys. Never did I expect they'd oust me, but my coach owed the Knights a favor. Apparently, they wanted the Lions' best center—that would be me. They recently got the left winger from the Storm. If I didn't know better, I'd venture to guess that they're building a super team. The move isn't all bad. We have stats on our side. By our, I mean the Knights. It'll take me a minute to get used to looking at anyone other than Zayne Gizinski, as my team captain, but I'll have to get used to the idea of deferring to Micah Lemon, a legend with the Knights.

I roll my eyes. "It was harmless, but we didn't realize those were their legacy uniforms."

Clancy chortles. "But now you have to do community service."

"Yeah. Helping out with the high school hockey team. Rumor has it, though, I have the best helper in the world." I gently elbow Blue, not wanting her to feel entirely left out of the conversation.

As usual, she hardly responds. But when her burger comes, eyes as wide as the bun, she digs in. Shortly after, she has to use the bathroom. Mercifully, Kathleen does too and offers to take her. I've done a lot of standing guard outside of ladies' rooms in the last twelve hours and am thankful for a break.

Clancy dangles a set of house keys in front of me. "These are yours on one condition."

The corner of my mouth pulls back. "What do you mean? We already talked about rent."

"I have some bad news."

Preempting what's been a deluge of bad news lately, I scrub my hand down my face.

"I'm hosed," Clancy says.

"What?"

"In a bind."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. But, um, welcome to the club?" I say, not sure what he means.

"Seriously, Redd. I don't know what to do." He explains his parents told him he can't get married.

"Listen, buddy. It can't be that bad. Like you told me when I got traded, look on the bright side."

Maybe Kathleen is really boring. She's hardly said a word since we sat down and seems allergic to children and dogs. Perhaps he's dodging a very slow-moving—and boring—bullet.

In an upbeat voice, Clancy says, "I'm doomed," then shakes his head. "Your trite, cliched suggestion that I look on the bright side doesn't change anything."

"Let me remind you that you're an adult and if you want to get married, by all means, you have that right."

"That's what my sister said."

I swallow and my chest thumps strangely. Haven't thought about Whit in a long time. Not since that day on the camping trip. Well, and a few times since if I'm being totally honest. But I've hardly let myself remember that day in its entirety because of what happened next...which was a big fat nothing.

Clancy's eyes widen. "Yes. Yes!" He practically leaps out of his chair. "That's it. You. You!"

"Dude, are you okay?"

He rubs his hands together. "I am now. This is perfect. Kathleen is heir to the Wingate fortune. We'll fund the high school hockey team. Make a generous donation. New equipment, uniforms, a travel bus, whatever you need to get you out of the penalty box...if you'll do me a favor."

"I already agreed to be your best man."

"And be my sister's boyfriend."

I practically choke on an ice cube. "What?"

"It would be fake, of course. No touching, kissing, or anything like that. Not that you'd want to. She's my sister. Ick. Hands off or say goodbye to slap shots, snap shots, wrist shots, or flip shots." He pauses. "As we both know, she has cooties."

Clancy was super protective of her in high school. Guess that hasn't changed.

If he only knew that something along those lines had already happened, I'd be...well, shot.

"But our parents' ultimatum was I can't get married until she has a boyfriend. Kathleen knows some suitors, but—" Clancy squints. "I don't think they're quite Whit's speed, if you know what I mean. She's a little swirly." He rolls his eyes around and bobbles his head.

I don't quite comprehend what he's saying.

The Whit I remember was rebellious and irritable...and beautiful in an intriguing way, at least in high school, but I've never told anyone that least of all her brother. "She's single?"

Clancy snorts. "Is that any surprise?"

Before I reveal it is a surprise because she's an amazing kisser, which would instantly ruin this friendship, Kathleen appears with Blue behind her.

"Baby, I have the solution," Clancy says to his fiancée.

I cast him a warning glare to indicate fake dating his sister as a favor isn't a kid-appropriate conversation.

Kathleen blinks a few times, waiting for him to explain.

"The wedding is back on," Clancy says with comical enthusiasm.

I make a slicing motion by my neck while Blue crouches down, checking on Baloo.

"But you'll do it," he hisses. "I dare you to tame that shrew."

Shaking my head because the guy could show some respect, I lean in and whisper, "Tame that shrew? Not on my life."