Chapter 23 What an Amazing Turnout Matt

Chapter 23

What an Amazing Turnout

Matt

“BLAKEY! WE’RE HERE!”

I cringe at the earsplitting arrival of Blake Riley’s mother. As every single person in the practice arena turns in her direction, Mrs. Riley steps onto the ice in a pair of scuffed-up black skates, pumps her arms, and goes flying toward her son, who’s leaning against the boards with Jess and Jamie Canning.

“Did you bring earplugs?” I murmur to Hailey, who’s gliding to the left of me. Her gloved hand is laced through June’s, while Libby is holding on to mine.

“Hush,” Hailey chides. “She’s a lovely woman.”

I’m not saying she’s not a lovely woman. But Mrs. Riley also happens to be the loudest woman on the planet and probably in the whole galaxy. She makes up for that by being our biggest fan. Or at least giving Hailey a run for her money in the biggest fan department. I don’t think I’ve ever met two women who are more obsessed with hockey.

This morning, there’re no sticks or pucks in the rink, only people. The team’s hosting a joint charity event for three children’s charities in Toronto, two that aim to help inner-city, at-risk youth and one for the children’s hospital.

The latter means that several of our attendees can’t actually be on the ice at once. Many of the kids are too sick to skate, so they’re bundled up on the bleachers, sitting under the heaters. Two or three at a time, my teammates are bringing them out onto the rink on sleds and towing them around so they can get a feel for how much fun it is to fly across the slick surface.

Will O’Connor skates toward me, the rope of a sled around his waist. Behind him, he’s towing a child of indeterminate age. A hat covers what I believe is a bald head, and the boy’s legs are a lot longer than my girls’, but this poor kid seems not to weigh any more than my preschoolers. Even so, he’s smiling up a storm as O’Connor glides past us, waltzing like a polar bear. He’s even singing. Apparently everyone’s caught a case of the jollies today. Even our resident man-whore.

While the children wait their turn, other teammates are skating around in front of the bleachers, showing off. Selfies and autograph signing will come later.

For now, I get to enjoy the chill against my cheeks as I skate with my three favorite girls. This is an intimate event for players, their families, and the kids from the charities, along with some hand-selected members of the press. It’s my favorite kind of mandatory function. No penguin suits, no schmoozing, and lots of fun.

“WHAT AN AMAZING TURNOUT!”

“She’s loud ,” Libby whispers, gazing up at me with wide eyes.

I chuckle under my breath. “She sure is.”

“Who’s that girl skating with Jess?” Hailey asks curiously, touching my arm.

I follow her gaze toward the laughing, vibrant teenager next to Blake’s girlfriend. “Oh wow. I think that’s Leila,” I say after a moment, startled when I recognize the girl. “Remember how Jess was saying she works in the pediatric cancer ward as part of her nursing program? That’s one of the kids she met there. Riley said the girl was pretty damn sick for a long time, but she’s in remission now.”

Hailey’s eyes get watery as she stares at the pretty teen. I love how sensitive she is, how much she cares about people, even strangers.

“Daddy!” Libby interrupts. “Let’s skate!”

I grin down at her. “Sure. How ’bout we race each other to the boards?”

Her expression brightens. “Okay! One … two …”

The little imp shoots forward before the count of three , and I pretend to growl in displeasure as her pink jacket–clad body whizzes across the shiny surface. Still, we both know I’m letting her win. When it comes to my kids, I’d lose any day of the week if it means putting a smile on their faces.

Even with me skating in slow motion, Libby’s still not much faster. She’s got tiny legs but a lot of grit. Her arms pump fiercely as she picks up speed. I hang back even farther, wait until she’s a yard away from the boards, and then pretend to skate my legs off.

“You’re fast!” I reach her a good ten seconds later, panting as if I can hardly breathe. “When did you get so fast?”

She smirks at me. “When I turned four.”

A laugh pops out of my mouth. God, my kids are fun. Hailey and June lazily skate our way, and my laughter turns into a different kind of smile. June’s wearing the same jacket as Libby’s, except hers is bright purple. And Hailey’s decked out in a gray wool sweater, skinny jeans, and a thick red scarf draped around her neck. She looks fantastic.

Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s mine. And I sure as shit can’t believe I was prepared to throw this all away. The embarrassment of missing her awards ceremony still haunts me, and I definitely feel guilty about the fact that I can’t spend as much time with her as I’d like. But we’re making it work. We text a lot, see each other whenever I’m home, and we’ve even talked about her flying to Dallas next week for our road game. The team’s return flight doesn’t leave until late afternoon the next day, so that’d give us an entire night and most of the morning to fuck like bunnies in my hotel room.

“Matt…” There’s a warning note in Hailey’s voice.

I meet her gaze and realize that she’s read my dirty thoughts. The naughty twinkle in her eyes confirms it.

“What?” I blink innocently.

“Nothing,” she chirps back, but then she idles closer and whispers in my ear, “This is family-skate day, not undress-Hailey-with-your-eyes day.”

“Can’t I do both?”

“Both what?” Will O’Connor—without the sled this time—does a hockey stop in front of us, spraying me with ice shavings.

“You jack…rabbit.” I stop myself just in time.

Instead of giving me grief about the improvised curse word, he puts his hands up in front of his chest like rabbit paws and starts jumping around like a bunny in skates. It’s the dumbest thing I ever saw in my life, but naturally my daughters find this hilarious . Even Hailey giggles. O’Connor has a way with women of all ages, apparently.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be good with kids, O’Connor,” I remark.

“No?” He stops hopping and does a goofy spin. “I’m immature. Ask anyone. How does that not compute?”

“Good point.”

“I need the potty!” June announces. “Do I gotta take off my skates?”

“Thankfully, no,” I say, since there’s black rubber matting all the way back into the locker rooms.

“I’ll take her,” Hailey offers. “I could use a pit stop myself. And this way, you can keep losing races to Libby.”

My other daughter beams up at Hailey. “I’m faster than Daddy!”

“I saw!” Hailey ruffles the top of Libby’s head. “Keep that speed up and maybe you’ll play pro hockey yourself one day.”

“No,” Libby announces, her gaze drifting beyond Hailey. “I wanna be that !”

We all follow her gaze to the other end of the rink. There, a young woman in black leggings and a bright green sweater has taken up the job of entertaining the waiting children. I don’t recognize her. On one leg, she sweeps in a backward circle. Then she plants a toe and leaps into the air, spinning at least two full revolutions before landing neatly on the surface again.

I whistle under my breath. “Nice moves.”

“I really need to go,” June says, crossing her legs.

Hailey snaps to attention. “Sorry, Junebug. Got distracted by the pretty lady. C’mon, let’s get you taken care of.”

I watch as Hailey leads my daughter off the ice, and my heart damn near overflows in my chest. She’s so damn good with my girls. For my girls.

It just figures that Kara isn’t Hailey’s biggest fan. My ex has taken to lecturing me about how it’s inappropriate for Hailey to spend so much time with our daughters. Even worse, she’s tried to weasel time with my girls away from me. In fact, she was adamantly against the girls coming to family skate today, claiming it’d be too “dangerous.”

I pointed out that the team owners weren’t about to hand all the kids hockey sticks and let them duke it out. For fuck’s sake, this event is for vulnerable children. Eventually Kara calmed down and agreed to it, though she scowled pretty damn hard when she found out Hailey was coming too.

It’s taken every last drop of my patience not to argue with her lately. Kara’s boyfriend spends even more time with my kids, and you don’t see me putting up a fight about it. Besides, Kara has no fucking right to talk about what’s appropriate . She fucking cheated on me. Or at least she probably did. I’ve been trying so hard not to think about it—the weekly lunches between Kara and Dentist Dan, the ones that started long before she and I signed those divorce papers…

“Daddy! Let’s race again!” Libby begs.

An indulgent smile lifts my lips. “You got it, Libby-Lu.”

So we run through the same routine again—Libby cheating to get a head start and me pretending I don’t know how to move my legs on skates.

“Kid’s a natural,” Wes remarks, skating up to us. “Ever thought about signing her up for some hockey lessons?”

“I think she’s more interested in figure skating,” I admit. Once again, Libby’s eyes are glued to the pretty brunette and those graceful spins. “Who is that, by the way?”

“Remember Hal said we’re getting a new skating coach? That’s her.”

“No way!” It’s hysterical, really. Half the team will have their tongues hanging out, because the young woman is really something to look at. And the other half will get all bent out of shape at the idea of a female figure-skating coach telling them what to do. “This is gonna be interesting.”

“I know, right?” Wes snickers.

As we watch, a guy I’ve never seen before skates out and takes her hand. The two of them do a graceful arc of back crossovers. Then she spins in closer to her partner and he lifts her off the ice, tossing her into the air. The children clap when she lands on one foot, gliding backward as if it required no effort at all.

“Daddy! Let’s do that!” Libby says, tugging on my hand. “Throw me, ’kay?”

“I’m not throwing you,” I say as Wes chuckles at my fearless kid.

“Why?”

“In the first place, Mommy will have a cow…”

She isn’t listening though. Libby abandons my boring adult explanation in favor of skating as fast as she can in a circle. She tosses her arms out and tries to spin, but her feet get tangled up and she goes down hard.

“Honey!” I say sharply. “Don’t…”

“’S okay!” she says, getting up quickly enough. She skates in a circle again, picking up speed, her hair streaming out from under her wool hat. “Look how fast I can—”

Wes and I watch it happen in slow motion. One minute, Libby is tearing around, her little white skates kicking up ice shavings. The next, one of the sleds crosses her path. She doesn’t stop. I open my mouth to call out a warning just as she tears toward the ropes between my teammate Lemming and the sled he’s pulling.

Libby hits the ropes and I brace myself. Instead of bouncing backward, she sort of vaults over them. My heart is in my throat as her head angles toward the ice. But then she keeps rotating, landing on her side instead of her head. She’s crumpled on the ice, kicking her feet and wailing louder than Blake Riley’s mother at a home game.

Fear and adrenaline surge through my blood, propelling me to action. I leap forward and race toward my little girl. I scoop her off the ice before Lemming can even turn the sled around and stare at us.

“Oh God!” my teammate bellows. “What happened?”

It isn’t his fault, of course. I don’t even answer. I’m too busy checking Libby’s tearful face. “Where does it hurt?” I demand.

“My…a-arm…” she cries.

And holy shit—arms aren’t supposed to bend where hers is bending. It’s like a parody of a broken arm.

I have exactly two more thoughts before I snap into fix-it mode. One: I hope my daughter isn’t about to see her father cry. And two: Kara is going to murder me.