1. Noah

Yeah, okay, the only person I can blame for the excruciating pain I'm currently experiencing is…me.

That's right.

The fact that I'm writhing on the ground, cupping my aching balls because they're halfway to my throat is no one's fault but my own.

I certainly can't blame the girl laughing hysterically as she watches me gasp in discomfort. Hell, she has no idea that the connection between her toe and my nutsack has temporarily debilitated me. And I can't blame the woman who called my name, causing me to turn at the exact wrong moment, either.

Maybe I can blame her.

If I hadn't shifted my stance while pushing my daughter on the swing, her foot never would have connected with my balls and I wouldn't be rolling on the ground, entertaining all the kids, as well as a few adults, at the neighborhood playground.

But I won't blame the woman who called my name and is now waving wildly as she comes my way. Being raised by two hard working parents, I was taught at a very young age to own up to my mistakes and take responsibility. Which is why I'm a single guy, raising a four-year-old girl alone.

Wait, I don't think that came out right. What I'm trying to say is Camryn isn't—never was—a mistake. She might not have been planned, and her puck bunny mother ran off weeks after Camryn was born, but raising her and loving her was the best decision I've ever made, and the truth is, the kick to the nuts was my fault, because I've been distracted lately.

"Noah," Julie, who I've known since our kindergarten days, calls out as she gets closer, pulling me from my thoughts as the pain between my legs somewhat eases.

"Becky," Camryn shrieks and kicks her legs, wanting off the swing as Julie and her little girl Becky reach us.

Julie smooths her hand over her hair and crinkles her nose as she looks down at me. "Are you okay?"

I let go of my balls. "Peachy," I say, calling on one of my mom's favorite phrases, but thinking of my mom once again brings pain to my heart. She's far too young for the diagnosis she just received.

Julie laughs at my response. "I didn't know we'd be seeing you here today. What a lovely surprise."

I'm not sure why she's surprised. It's Sunday, and every Sunday when I'm not practicing, playing, or with my team at an away game, I take Camryn to the park. Since it's three weeks until the pre-season, anyone who knows me, knows this is where I'd be today.

"I'm here," I say for lack of anything else and push to my feet. "It's nice to see you too, Julie." I turn to her little girl. "Becky, did you see the geese?" I point to the nasty Canadian geese swimming in the pond like they own it. I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice, but their damn geese are just plain mean.

Becky nods at me as she shades the sun from her eyes. "I want to play with Camryn."

I reach for my daughter to slow her down, and after I help her off the swing, she grabs Becky's hand and jumps up and down.

"Daddy, can we go play in the castle?"

"Yeah, sure. Just stay away from the pond."

"Thank you, Daddy."

I give her a smile, not really wanting her to go because now I'm stuck with Julie, who is constantly urging me to bring Camryn to her place for a children's play date. From the way she's always touching me, I suspect she might be looking for an adult date as well, and I'm just not going there.

For the record, that's not ego speaking. I don't have much of one, or any at all, to be honest. I might be tall, dark, and athletic, but I fall short of society's physical standards. The acne on my face in my teenage years, now deep, ugly scars, have not only disqualified me from becoming anyone's Prince Charming, it caused me years of grief in high school.

Crater Skater.

Yeah, that's the name the popular rich kids called me. Teenagers are so damn nice, aren't they? It terrifies me to think what Camryn's teenage years will be like. If I could put her in bubble wrap I would. But thinking of her growing up reminds me why I was distracted earlier. I need to find a new caregiver for her. My mother took kids into her home for years, Camryn included, but after her diagnosis, I can't ask more of her. My chest constricts as a new kind of sadness and desperation takes hold.

Julie weaves her arm through mine as I watch Camryn run off to play. I have no hard feelings toward Camryn's mother—even though abandoning her daughter was a dick move—but I don't hold grudges. They don't do anyone any good, least of all for my daughter. I do, however, worry I'm failing her by not having a mother in her life. My own mother did what she could, but it's not the same, and I'm not going to run out and marry the first person who shows interest. Tons of women show interest, but again, that's not my ego speaking.

It"s very clear to me that the women who follow hockey players around, and those here at the park, only fall all over me because I'm Noah Jones, center for the Boston Bucks. What is it my ex-girlfriend bunny said she read on the bathroom wall once? Oh yeah. I remember now. For a bucking good time, call Noah Jones. Ridiculous. But it does cement what I know. What I've always known. Women want crater skater for a good time, and nothing more. Hell, Julie here barely spared me a glance in our younger years and now, after her divorce, she's all over me.

"We should nail down a play date."

My gaze slides to the woman holding my arm as she emphasizes the words nail down, and her eyes gleam with interest as she blinks heavily coated eyelashes at me. "In two weeks, I'll be going non-stop with the team," I remind her.

She goes quiet, like she's deep in thought, and a moment later we're dropping down onto a bench. "Is your mother still going to watch Camryn?"

My heart thumps. Christ, I know Sparrow Springs is a small town outside of Boston, and word spreads fast, but Mom was just diagnosed with early onset dementia last week. Julie can't know about that, can she? Although she is a hair stylist, and rumors spread in her salon faster than a brushfire in the heat of August.

Before I can answer, she shuffles closer and takes my hand in hers. "I'm so sorry, Noah. I'm here if you need anything. In fact, on my days off, I can take Camryn. I have a great backyard. If you'd just bring Camryn over, you could see for yourself."

Jesus, I really hope she's talking about the space behind her house and not… Camryn squeals in delight and my thoughts shift as she flies down the slide, dust punching in the air as her feet hit the soft, dry ground. She loves playing at Mom and Dad's place, as they too have a great backyard. I want a place like that for her, and as she grows up, it's clear I really need to get her out of the city and apartment living.

"I'm looking for something a little more permanent. Camryn needs stability in her life."

She reaches into her big tote bag and pulls out a designer water bottle. "The offer is on the table, if you're in a pinch."

"Julie, Noah. Hey, how's it going?" Gemma, one of the other mothers who frequents the playground, and another girl I've known all my life, calls out as she hurries our way. Her daughter Olivia runs to play with Camryn and Becky as Gemma drops down onto the other side of the bench, and I find myself sandwiched between the two women.

Most guys would probably enjoy the position, and in my younger years, I probably would have too. Now I have more important things to think about. Like how I'm going to find good childcare for my daughter for the upcoming NHL season.

Fuck me.

I stare off across the street, catching sight of a very familiar woman heading into the town's real estate office, and when Gemma follows my gaze, she leans in. "Have you heard?"

"Heard what?" I ask as Brighton White—the girl from the high school clique that picked on me—stands before the door, waving her hands in the air, like she's trying to get the automatic sensor to recognize she's outside. It finally opens and she disappears inside the building.

Bright white.

That's how I used to think of her. Blonde hair that was always shiny, and a smile that dazzled all the boys. I'd heard through the grapevine that she'd recently lost her father. That can't be easy, especially since her mother was never in the picture. From what I understand, when Brighton was just a kid, her mom ran off with some sheik who'd been staying at the resort, but who knows if that's true. Still, she now has no one and that's fucking sad.

"She owns White Sand Resort," Gemma points out.

Julie's hand lands on my knee, giving a little squeeze as she leans over to talk to Gemma. "No surprise there. I assumed her father would leave it to her in his will. She's an only child with no mother, so it's all hers."

"Yeah, but did you hear that her father ran the place into the ground before he died? Gambling. He took out tons of loans. No one had any idea, and now lenders are looking to repossess." I catch the revengeful gleam in her eyes. Did Brighton pick on her in high school too? "She has to sell to cover the debt." She shakes her head, but there's no sorrow in her eyes. I glance across the street to where I'd spotted Brighton as Gemma snaps her fingers and continues, "She's going to be out on her ass."

My gaze flies back to Gemma, my heart stalling. She's going to be out on her ass? "Are you serious?"

"As serious as your goal that won the cup last season." She nudges me.

"That…" I shake my head, distraught at the idea of anyone being out on their ass. "That's not…"

Gemma flips her long dark hair from her shoulders as her gaze rakes over my face. "I thought you'd be happy about all this."

"I should be happy that she's in debt?" Christ, these women don't know me at all. Not a surprise, really. I don't let anyone in, so it's not their fault. But to believe Brighton's misery and loss would make me happy? That's extreme.

"She and her friends were so cruel in high school, Noah." Gemma makes a tsking sound. "She deserves what she gets, if you ask me."

"Yeah, maybe," I whisper under my breath. The thoughts of anyone out on the street doesn't sit well with me.

Gemma gives a humorless chuckle. "Funny, isn't it."

"What's funny?" I ask Gemma.

"I just mean back in high school, you know. We were the kids from the wrong side of the tracks, but our district was close enough to the boundary lines that we went through the Sparrow Springs school system. Brighton was the rich bitch who looked down her nose at us. Now look at you and Brighton." She snorts out a laugh. "Talk about a complete role reversal."

Julie squeezes my leg…again. "You showed her."

I hadn't set out to show anyone anything, other than my parents. They worked hard and put every extra penny toward hockey. Nothing about Brighton White and her privileged life motivated me. Honestly, I never gave her a second thought after high school. Much.

Gemma makes a tsking sound. "It must have been awful for you, having to work for her family in high school."

"Poor you," Julie adds. She aims a look laced with pity my way, but I don't regret working at the resort. I didn't much like the way Brighton would watch me at times, a sneer on her face. At least, I think it was a sneer. As the resort's entertainment coordinator, she was always in the pool or the tennis court, running activities with the kids while their parents drank too much at one of the many bars. From what I remember, Brighton was good with the kids, so maybe she's not so awful after all.

Brighton was good with kids.

"Interesting," I murmur.

"What?" Julie asks.

"Nothing." I check the time on my phone. "I should get going. I promised Camryn ice cream."

Julie pouts. "What about our play date?"

My gaze strays to the real estate office as Brighton comes out, stands still for a second and walks back inside. "Once I have full-time care figured out, I'll let you know." I don't want to keep my daughter from a playdate with her friend. It's just…I don't want to go and I'm hoping when I finally hire a new nanny, she can be in charge of such things.

"What is that woman up to?" Gemma murmurs, shaking her head as she too watches Brighton run around like a chicken with its head cut off. "Hey, Noah. If you don't want to see Brighton on the streets, you should buy the resort and keep her on. Make her do all the menial work. Oh, I know. She could be your maid." She wags her eyebrows at me. "You know, payback for the way she treated you." She laughs. "You could even make her wear one of those French maid costumes. That would be the ultimate payback, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," is all I say under my breath. Hell, what do I know about running a resort? Absolutely nothing and I don't plan on finding out what it takes. "See you guys around." I walk over and collect Camryn, who doesn't want to leave until I remind her that I promised her a double scoop of chunky monkey.

My heart squeezes tight as she slides her tiny hand into mine and waves goodbye to her friends. "Daddy, I like Ms. Julie," she says. "Do you like her too?"

"I do like her." I take a breath, worried about where this conversation is going.

"Becky said she heard her mom tell Ms. Gemma that she was going to get Becky a daddy, and that I needed a mommy. Do I need a mommy?" She glances down. "I think I'd like to have a mommy."

"How about a triple scoop of ice cream?" I blurt out before she can go any further down this path. Her big blue eyes—eyes that match her mother's—go big as I press the light to cross the street. As the lights flash, we hurry across the crosswalk and I guide her straight to Get the Scoop.

I order an ice cream for Camryn that's bigger than her head, and get a small chocolate cone for myself.

"Daddy, this is huge." Delight lights up her face as we step outside into the warm sunshine.

"You'd better eat it fast before it melts all over you."

"If I eat it too fast, I'll get a brain freeze. Remember when that happened to you." She giggles at the memory.

I chuckle. "Yeah, I remember."

"It's wobbly," she says as she licks the top scoop, which looks like it's about to tumble off.

As I envision the disaster, I glance around. "Maybe we should sit."

"Right there, Daddy. Right there is a bench." Without looking at who might be coming our way, she darts toward the bench, but when she does, she stumbles on a crack in the sidewalk and the top scoop of her ice cream takes a leap and lands with a thud on the crisp white shirt of the woman coming our way, and that woman is none other than…Brighton White. She gasps in response, and my blood drains.

Fuck me twice.

"Daddy, I lost my top scoop," Camryn squeals as she rebalances herself, holding tight to her cone so she doesn't lose any more.

"Looks like I found it," Brighton announces, glancing down at her soiled shirt and the blob of ice cream melting on her shoes. She steps back, and tugs her shirt from her body.

I briefly close my eyes, hoping this isn't really happening. But when I open them again, I find Brighton standing before me, dressed in cute white shorts, with a mostly white but now chocolate stained shirt tucked into the front of her shorts. "I'm so sorry."

Her blue eyes are strained, upset when they meet mine, but I'm not entirely sure it's from the mess of her clothes. I hand her the napkins I'd stuffed into my back pocket. "I'll pay to have this cleaned."

"No worries. It was an accident."

"I'm sorry," Camryn says and Brighton's face softens as she turns to my daughter.

"It's okay. Do you want me to take you back in for another scoop?"

"Daddy?" she asks, blinking up at me with hopeful eyes.

"No, two big scoops is enough. It's my fault for piling on the third. This probably wouldn't have happened if I made better choices."

Brighton laughs at that and something about the sound goes through my body and does the strangest things. "Three scoops is always the right choice, isn't that right…" Her voice falls off as she arches her brows at me.

"Her name is Camryn," I tell her.

She aims a genuine smile at my daughter. "What a pretty name."

"She was named after my grandfather, Cameron."

"You were close?" she asks.

I nod and Brighton smiles as Camryn asks, "Who are you?"

I'm about to correct her and tell her it's not polite to ask in that manner, as Brighton works to clean the ice cream from her shirt but only manages to spread the chocolate further. Brighton answers before I can speak. "I went to high school with your father. I'm Brighton. Brighton White."

Bright white…at least everything about her was bright white, until she met with the third scoop of chunky monkey.

Camryn takes a big lick of her ice cream. "That's pretty too."

As I watch my daughter and my old nemesis hit it off, I once again remember how good Brighton was with the kids at the resort.

"If you don't want to see Brighton on the streets, you should buy the resort and keep her on. Make her do all menial work."

I clear my head of that ridiculous thought. "Please send me the dry-cleaning bill."

"It's okay, Noah." A garbled sound crawls out of her throat. "I probably deserved this."

I open my mouth but my words get lodged in my throat as pain spills into her eyes. That's when I notice the dark circles, ones I've never, ever seen before. "I should get going. You two have a great day and it was so nice meeting you, Camryn."

"You too, Ms. Brighton." She gives me a curt nod and circles around us, her heels clicking on the sidewalk. I turn to watch her go, not really hating the view. When she disappears around the corner, I reach for my daughter's hand.

"Come on, Camryn. I need to check something out."