Gavin

6

" T his might be a bad idea," I tell Tori as we take the last turn according to the GPS. Odette's house isn't far from mine. I've been in Seattle for a handful of years now, but I don't know the different neighborhoods well, unless it's one a teammate lives in. Even then, I only frequent a few of their homes.

Cillian has a fancy-ass floating house in Eastlake. Fane's partner, or one of them, anyway, is wealthy and has a nice house on the other side of town. Most of the other guys have condos spread around, but I don't know anyone who lives in the Windermere neighborhood.

"The plus one didn't have stipulations, Dad."

"A plus one usually implies a romantic partner, though."

"But I don't have one of those. Besides, Odette is really cool, and you already know her. She might be excited to see a blast from the past, or whatever."

Tori sounds confident, but I don't miss the way she's fingering the hem of her skirt.

"You're probably right," I say, pushing a little more cheeriness into my tone in the hopes of easing her. "Holy shit."

The house we pull up to is not an ordinary house. At all.

"Wow," Tori whispers beside me.

"Yeah. Wow." We park and walk up to the porch of the enormous white mansion. I know she's been working with the rich and famous, but somehow, it didn't cross my mind that Odette is one of them. I guess I still imagine her as the girl I knew as a kid. The one who shopped at thrift stores and drove a dented car that was twice her age.

Hell, I'm a professional athlete and I don't know if I could afford a place like this. Definitely not after all the money I paid Caroline in the divorce. I'm not bitter about that, though. She deserves to be comfortable. She says I paid her too much. I disagree, though, because she doesn't have a career. Her skillset is that of a stay-at-home mom and that deserves a great salary.

The door is open, but I still knock as we walk through the foyer. It's circular, paneled in dark carved wood topped with a floral wallpaper in different shades of green and purple. A huge bouquet of fresh flowers sits on a round table in the middle, the smell permeating the whole space.

Tori sneezes twice, her allergies in full swing.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, but let's find everyone else," she says, leading me through the arched opening and further into the house.

That's where we find her. Standing at a large bay of windows overlooking the expansive backyard. Her hair was shorter when I knew her, cropped just below her chin. Now, it's long and flows down her back. I wouldn't recognize her from sight, at least from this angle, but the hair on my arms rises in some unseen recognition.

This pull can't be ignored.

"Odette?"

"Tori, glad you could—" Odette starts and abruptly stops when she sees me standing next to my daughter. "Vaughn."

"Quinn." I mimic her tone, a combination of awe and apprehension.

"I hope it's okay, I brought my dad. I don't have a boyfriend, and since you know each other," Tori starts to ramble.

"Of course," Odette says, painting a bright smile onto her face quickly. I see through it, but I doubt Tori can. ", it's been too long, darling."

Darling?

"Far," I say, and Tori side-eyes me, but I can't pull my gaze off Odette. She's a pillar in royal blue from shoulder to toe. Whatever she's wearing has a slight shimmer, and when she steps closer, I can't tell if the dazzle is her clothing or her. She always did scramble my brain.

Her hair isn't the only thing that's changed. She's curvier, her body fuller but her face more defined with angles. Her lips are like I remember, bright and heart-shaped. The most kissable I've ever seen. If circumstances were different, I'd say fuck it and take them right now. I want to. But I'm not that kind of asshole.

Then there are those eyes. Hazel and piercing…they've always been transfixing but now they look at me with a directness I never knew from her before. Distrust, likely. I can't fucking blame her there.

"You look fabulous, my dear," she says to my kid, making her beam with pride. I know she fretted for hours about what to wear today. I hate the pressure she puts on herself, but I also understand it.

"Thank you."

"Everyone is outside but grab a drink and a plate before you head out," Odette says, gesturing to the next room where I can see a spread of food.

"Thank you," Tori repeats, taking a few steps in the direction of the dining area. She looks at me to follow, but I give her a nod, suggesting she go ahead without me. She can't hide her knowing smirk.

"How have you been, Odette?"

"Fabulous."

"This house is great," I say, taking a step closer to her and fighting every urge to touch her. We don't know each other, not anymore, but our chemistry is alive and fucking well.

"Mmm, yes, she's fab…"

"Fabulous?" I smile but don't laugh out loud at her obvious fluster. She's as affected by me as I am by her. Probably more so because I'm sure she didn't expect me to walk into her house today.

I give her a moment as she looks at her shoes, and she eventually releases a long breath.

"Hi," she says when she looks back up at me. "."

Besides my grandmother and teachers, Odette was the only person as a kid that called me by my full name. To everyone else, I was Gav or Vaughn. Still am, in most instances. I loved the way she said it, though, how her teeth almost bite her lower lip when she pronounces the V. She says it slow and cool, and it makes me anything but.

"Hi, Odette. Sorry to surprise you like this."

"It's fine," she says, except I see her throat move like she's swallowing down what she really wants to say. "It's good to see you. How's Caroline?"

All hope of casually catching up with Odette flies out the wide-open French doors behind her. Maybe I shouldn't have expected anything different. Sure, it's been twenty years, but the way I handled things back then was abysmal, at best.

"She's good. Better than ever, happy back in New York. I hear she's dating."

"Are you divorced?" Odette blinks a few times, her long lashes as black as her hair.

"For over a year now."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she says. It sounds genuine. Which makes sense, honestly. Despite how we ended, I never knew Odette to be bitter or vicious. Though I wouldn't blame her for hating us.

"Don't be." I offer no other explanation. This isn't the place. "You look…fucking amazing. And this place is something else, Odette. You've done well for yourself."

"In some ways, sure. And thank you," she says, running a hand down the fine fabric at her hip. "You have, too. Your plan came off without a hitch."

"In some ways, sure," I throw her words back at her. Most certainly not in others. I had planned on a passionate and loving marriage, after all. "How are you liking Seattle?"

"So far, I'm loving it. But everyone tells me to wait for winter."

"Not much different than New York winters, in my experience."

"That's good to hear," she says, averting her gaze back to the windows.

"Sorry, I'm probably keeping you from your guests," I say, touching her shoulder as I move to step around her. "I'll catch up with you later, Quinn."

I don't give her a chance to say anything else. I don't want to hear her say no, nor do I want to monopolize her while she has a house full of guests. I grab a water and wander the main floor. It's not what I would imagine her living in, this grandeur. I'd have expected her in a small bungalow, busting at the seams with art and kitsch. Those are present here, but the scale feels wrong, somehow.

I check in with Tori and meet a few of her classmates. None are overly impressed by me, which is probably a breath of fresh air for my daughter. There have been too many times in her life when she thought she had to fight for attention around me. For all the privileges my career brings her, there have been plenty of downsides, as well.

After about an hour of aimless meandering, I settle into a chair on the back patio and watch the sun play over the lake. It's a comfortable silence until an older gentleman sits in the chair next to me.

"I hear this is your last season," he says.

"It is. I'm practically geriatric by NHL standards," I confirm.

"George Andrews," the man says, holding out his hand to me.

" Vaughn. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. What brings a star of the Seattle Blades to my friend's home today?" he asks with an edge of possessiveness that draws my curiosity.

"That's my daughter." I nod my head toward Tori, who's laughing with a couple of her cohorts. "She thought she should drag me along today because Odette and I grew up together, oddly enough."

"You're kidding?"

"Not at all, we come from the same smallish town in upstate New York."

"You're telling me you knew the most enigmatic woman in all of fashion before she was the enigmatic woman? I thought my wife was the only one," he says, smiling ear to ear. He leans closer to me, elbows on his knees. "What was she like as a child?"

"She was mysterious then, too. Kept to a small circle of friends, mostly artsy types. Which I guess you'd expect. She made her own rules in life. According to my daughter, she still does. And she always had a smile that drew you in."

A memory conjures from one of the few classes we shared in high school. It was creative writing and we had to read our short stories for the class. A guy named Jerry was reading his, a fantasy tale about visiting a sideshow and running into a womanly snake creature with huge tits. Odette burst out laughing, unable to contain herself. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I'd never seen her display her joy so unabashedly before. Half of the class probably fell for her at that moment, her head thrown back as she snorted, not trying to control herself at all. I'm sure she laughed like that with her friends, but it wasn't something the rest of us saw much of.

Fuck, she had a great laugh. Does she still?

"You haven't stayed close?"

"No, we haven't spoken in almost twenty years," I answer. The last time I saw her is imprinted on my brain. Our last conversation haunts me like a recurring nightmare. It's difficult to remember things I talked about last week, but I remember every word that was passed between the two of us that night. Our last night.

More than anything, I remember the smile she wore purely for my benefit because it was a complete fucking lie.

"That's not something she shares with just anyone these days. Her real smile," he muses. "Count yourself lucky."

"Oh, I do." Our short time was special, and I cherish it, even if I hate that it had to end. Watching her now, how she moves through the crowd with a self-assuredness I've only ever seen in other athletes, I wonder if there's a possibility of a second chance for us.

Is it too late to see if that connection is still alive? Or is it long buried? I don't think it is because I still feel something when I look at her; a remnant of what pulled me to her in the first place. A desire to be close, to know all her secrets, and to be the one she trusts them to.

"You have a daughter," George says. "Is there a wife?"

"An ex-wife," I say, not taking my eyes off her.

"Oh, you poor, poor man," George says before rising. His laughter fades as he walks away.

What the fuck just happened?

No matter how hard I try, I can't pull my eyes off Odette. She's speaking with Tori, who is animatedly telling a story, her hands waving. My daughter is comfortable with her, only after a couple of weeks of school. Tori's grown up around minor celebrities, maybe that helps her be at ease with someone she idolizes the way she does Odette. Hockey isn't on the same level as fashion, or even other sports. We can live our lives mostly going unrecognized and unnoticed. We don't make Page Six headlines. Odette has. I know because I can never go long without my curiosity getting the best of me and typing her name into my search engine.

One time, Caroline saw me reading about her. She didn't say anything, just placed a hand on my shoulder and a kiss to the top of my head. We never discussed it, but I'm sure she knew that a part of me was never present in the room with me. I left it with Odette at the young fucking age of eighteen.

Whether she knows she has it or not. Whether she's kept it safe or not. The gorgeous woman talking to the most important person in my life has held whatever part of me causes the tightness in my stomach. My other half, my soulmate…I don't know what to call it, but I've only ever felt it with her.

Or maybe that is just my guilt speaking.

A man walks up to Odette, stealing her attention away from Tori, who glances around until she sees me. I smile and throw her a small wave. A few minutes later, she's climbing the stairs to the patio with a boy in tow.

"Dad, this is Drake," she introduces him as they take seats of their own.

"Hey, Drake. Nice to meet you."

"You too, Mr. Vaughn."

"Call me . Mr. Vaughn makes me feel old," I say. "Do you go to school with Tori?"

"Yeah. I moved here from Kansas, terrified and alone. But Tori's workstation is right next to mine and she said that meant we were destined to be friends. I haven't been able to shake her since," he teases with a wink.

"Sounds like my girl," I tell him. "She's a good friend. You're in good hands."

"Drake also knows hockey," Tori says.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, my grandfather played in the NHL for a few years. Joshua Jensen."

"Seriously? Jensen is in the Hall of Fame," I say, and Drake nods. "Do you play?"

"Nah, my coordination doesn't allow."

"Same," Tori says. Which is true, athletic abilities were never in her wheelhouse. "Odette says she's never seen you play."

"She probably doesn't have a lot of time for sports," I say nonchalantly, but it stings some, the knowledge that she surely hasn't had the same level of obsession for me that I have for her.

"You should get her tickets for a game."

"I doubt she'd want that," I start, but Tori interrupts.

"You could try, Dad," she insists, and I get the feeling she's trying to matchmake.

I wonder if it'd work…

The way Odette is speaking with that man tells me it wouldn't. Her hand rests on the lapel of his stuffy jacket. It's nearly eighty degrees out today, so why is he wearing a blazer? Then again, maybe that's what Odette is into. Maybe he knows more than I do. She leans in whenever she says anything to him, and I don't like it. Not one bit.

I'm jealous.

Is she dating him? Are they something to each other? Does he make her come?

Fuck.

A familiar feeling takes over me. One I know well, it's in my blood and my bones.

Competition.

I welcome it, and like every time I take the ice, I play to fucking win.