Chapter 17

I sip on my vanilla milkshake, which hardly looks like I've had any, as Poppy polishes hers off.

Logan was taking Amelia somewhere to ride her scooter, and even though he invited me to tag along, I lied and said I had plans with Poppy. So, I texted Poppy, and thank God, she was free for lunch.

I wanted nothing more than to go with them, but this secret I'm keeping in—the one he begged me not to say out loud—I can't hold it in anymore. It isn't right. Not to Logan and not to Amelia.

"You seem off," she says. She attempts to slurp more shake through the straw, but the cup is clearly empty. She pushes the glass away from her with a pouty look on her face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I utter, mindlessly twirling my straw. "I'm fine."

She gives me a look that tells me she knows I'm lying. One thing about Poppy is her ability to tell if someone is bullshitting her. I guess it's because she was raised by wolves and constantly had to fight for her life, but it's made her incredibly good at reading people.

"I am going to say this in the nicest, least offensive way possible …" She pauses, inhaling sharply. "You are acting like you did back when we first met. And I don't mean that in a good way."

I'd act surprised, but I'm not. I know exactly what she's saying right now. I feel the same way I did when we met. Hopeless. Lost. And like, no matter how much I think I've overcome my past, I haven't. I never will, and that's never been more evident to me than it is now.

"Spill it, Mace. There's no sense in holding it inside."

For a moment, I just sit there, not knowing if I should tell her or keep it in, buried deep. I'm scared of the way she's going to look at me. Though I haven't told her much, I know she's been excited that Logan and I are … enjoying each other's company, I'll call it. Telling her the truth of the dark secret that connects Amelia and me more than I ever knew will change everything.

Not for the better either.

But I can't keep it in. I considered telling my mom or Tessa, but I know they'll give me that look of pity. With Poppy, I feel like I can be open and honest without her looking at me like my puppy just got killed before my eyes. Because Poppy has been through more shit than most people could ever imagine, and even though she can have empathy, she won't look at me like my story is the most pathetic to ever be told.

I open my mouth, but I don't look at her. Instead, I keep my eyes focused on the table before me.

"I know the truth about Amelia's mom, Cassandra." My lips barely allow me to whisper the painful words. "I know that she died in a car accident and Amelia survived." I stop, swallowing the lump in my aching throat, begging it to allow me to say what I need to say. "And that Logan has kept the story hidden because he doesn't want it in the press."

"He told you all of that, huh?" she says softly. "You must mean something to him, Mace. He keeps that very, very private."

My eyes dare to look at hers—but only for a split second. The lump turns to a mountain, and my eyes begin to mist, and I can't help but look down at the table.

"You remember the accident I was in? The one that, uh, killed my dad?"

Even though I'm not looking directly at her, I can see her head bob slowly. "Yes."

I inhale through my nose. "I never told you about the other car." My voice barely croaks the confession, and my heart feels like it might stop beating. The words seem so impossible to say out loud to Poppy. How am I supposed to say them to Logan?

"It was a pregnant woman. She ran through a red light." Tears stream down my face, and my lips tremble. "Her name was Cassandra."

There's no missing the sharp intake of air Poppy drags into her lungs as she connects the dots from what I just told her.

"Oh, Maci," she whispers sadly before reaching over the table and putting her hand over mine.

"I've fallen in love with Logan and Amelia." I sniffle. "And none of that matters because I …" I shake my head. "If it wasn't for me, she'd have a mother." Tears blur my vision now, making it impossible for me to see across the table when I lift my head to hers. "If it wasn't for me, Logan wouldn't have to raise his daughter alone."

She doesn't speak right away, and I drop my gaze down again because she knows I'm right.

Finally, her hand squeezes mine.

"You listen to me, Maci. What happened to Amelia's mom was terrible. But she ran that red light. She was on her phone, and she ran into you." Her voice grows thick with sadness. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. I know the story of that day. I'm one of the few who does. You were simply driving through a green light."

I understand what she's saying, and yet I can't numb the pain inside my chest.

"Amelia won't understand that though, Poppy," I whisper. "Once she's old enough to learn the truth, I'll just be the woman who was driving the other car on the day her mom died."

"No, Mace," she answers sharply. "You'll be the woman who stuck around and helped raise her. Even despite the pain that brought you." She gives my hand another squeeze. "I can't tell you how to have this conversation, but it's a conversation you need to have sooner rather than later."

I nod sadly through my tears. "I know," my voice croaks. "I'm just scared to lose them. To … end our story."

"You might not," Poppy whispers back. "It might be just the beginning. A new beginning."

I look up at her, praying that she's right. But if she isn't, I wouldn't blame Logan for wanting to protect his daughter. After all, she is his entire world, and he needs to do right by her, not me.

"I do need to tell him," I say, my voice hoarse from crying. "Tonight."

That feeling of worry settles in my gut, making my heart race as I put my hand on Amelia's forehead.

"You're burning up, baby girl," I whisper to her, knowing she won't respond. She's too tired for that.

Clyde sits with his huge head perched on the bed, staring at her. He's gotten in the habit of sleeping in her room every night. I'm glad that Maci hasn't moved back to her apartment yet because I don't think I'm the only one who will be sad. Her dog has fallen in love with Amelia.

An hour ago, we were headed to the park when she fell asleep. It was earlier than her usual naptime, but I didn't think much of it because she'd woken up a tad earlier than usual this morning. But then, when I came back home and got her out of her seat, her tiny body was on fire. And even though she half woke up, she was so lethargic and not herself that I knew instantly that something wasn't right.

Maddie was always around to talk me through shit when Amelia was sick. Hell, sometimes, I was away at games when she was home with Amelia, battling the flu, ear infections, or other sicknesses. Something happening to her or her getting sick is always my biggest fear when I head to an away game. I try my best to be a good dad, but when it comes to her getting sick, I freak the fuck out. And I don't want to bother Maci because she's at lunch with Poppy. She raises my kid half of the time. The least I can do is leave her alone when she's taking a few hours off.

I put a pillow next to Amelia's body to make sure she doesn't roll off the mattress, though I guess I shouldn't worry because Clyde is still here, his huge head propped beside her as she sleeps. I head out of her room to get the thermometer in the kitchen. While I'm out here, I grab the Children's Motrin, too, with the liquid syringe. She fights me on taking medicine, but I hope she'll just take it today.

Heading back to her room, I slowly sink down on the bed beside her and press the thermometer to her forehead. It feels like it takes minutes before it finally beeps, reading 103.2 .

"Shit," I whisper, quickly setting it down on the bed and loading the syringe with the medicine.

Propping her head up, I rub the top of her hair gently. "Amelia, I need you to take some medicine, okay?"

She stirs, squeezing her eyes together to form a scowl and smacking her lips.

"It's just a little bit, and then you can rest, okay?"

I put the end of the syringe to her lips and put a dab of it into her mouth, hoping she'll wake up enough to take the rest. Instead, she grows angry in her slumber, pushing it away.

"No, Daddy," she says and begins to cry for a few seconds before settling down and dozing back off.

I lie down, pulling her against my chest to keep her close to me, all while keeping the medicine in my hand—unsure of how the hell I'm going to force her to take it, but knowing she needs something to get her fever down.

I hear the door open and close, and I know Maci has made it back home. Shit's been weird ever since the night we spent alone. We've had sex since then, sure. But she isn't herself. She's acting like she did when she first took this job—only stranger. And I haven't caught her writing in her office for days either.

I look down at my daughter's angelic face with her cheek squished against my chest. Her body is so warm, and just then she begins to cough, wheezing a few times.

Whatever this sickness is, it came out of absolutely nowhere.

"Everything all right?" Maci whispers, walking into the room and coming beside me. "I thought I just heard her coughing."

"She has a fever. One hundred and three," I mutter, looking up at her. "She needs medicine, but she's always so difficult about taking it."

Her eyes shift to my hand, and she reaches for the medicine. "Let me try?"

Letting her take it from my fingers, I nod, scooching up in the bed so that Amelia's head is up.

"Amelia, sweet girl," Maci says, dropping to her knees beside the bed and running her fingers through Amelia's hair. "Wake up, love."

She begins to fuss, wiggling around in my arms and crying. And then her crying turns to coughing, and she sits up in my arms, shoving Maci's hand away. "No, I don't want it."

Maci doesn't give up. Instead, she puts her hand on Amelia's back and rubs small circles. "Hey, it's okay, sweetie. I know you don't feel very good, and I promise … this will help, okay?"

Even through her exhaustion, Amelia's eyes stay open the slightest bit, and she looks at the medicine. "No," she cries. "I don't want to."

I expect Maci to set the syringe down and give up. This is the first time she's had to go through caring for a sick child—or helping to care for one. It isn't for the faint of heart. I love being a dad more than anything in this world, including hockey. But this shit isn't easy. Sickness, temper tantrums—they aren't for everyone. And tomorrow, I have to fucking leave for Pennsylvania for an away game and leave Amelia with Maci here, alone, expecting her to care for my kid because I have no one else.

Instead, she continues to rub her back as Amelia starts to doze off again. "For me, Amy? Will you take the medicine for me?"

Amelia's eyes crack open, but she doesn't speak.

Maci's hand reaches for Clyde's head, giving it a pat. "Clyde is so worried about you, sweetie. Can you take the medicine for him? He really wants you to."

Slowly but surely, Amelia nods. "Okay," she utters, coughing a few times and wiping her nose.

Bringing the medicine to my daughter's lips, Maci gives a reassuring smile. "Ready? Clyde's watching."

Gently, she gives her the medicine. And even though Amelia pulls back slightly, she doesn't fight it.

Once it's all gone, Maci gives me a small smile and leans forward, kissing my cheek. "You can take a breath. She's okay."

Amelia's soft snores through her stuffy nose show how tired she is because she's back asleep within seconds.

I hold her tiny body, keeping her close. "Just never gets easier, you know. Every time she's sick or she falls down, I'm fucking terrified." I shrug my shoulders, looking down at my kid. "She's my number one. I'm just … scared of something happening to her. And now, I have to leave tomorrow." My eyes lift to hers, shame filling my gut. "What kind of parent leaves their kid when they are sick?"

Her hand cups my cheek. "The kind that doesn't have a choice, Logan," she whispers softly. "We will be fine, I promise. And if I need anything, I'll call my mom; she's a nurse."

Maybe it's because Amelia is sick and Maci knows that I need her, but whatever it is, she's looking at me the way she did before I went and opened my mouth, fucking everything up.

This thing we have, it feels like we're a team. I know she's got secrets, but I don't care. Right now, my daughter and I need her. And I think she needs us too.