Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Ivy

I lean against the wall, my hand clamped to my chest as I try to pretend that I wasn’t eavesdropping…

And that I wasn’t touched by the conversation Knox just had with my daughter.

And—

That I’m not feeling guilty.

Because I can’t give her that.

Man Stuff.

Dad Stuff.

I can talk to her about her problems, commiserate about asshole kids, be pissed as fuck about what happened to her, be her Mama Bear and do my best to protect her from the world.

But I’m just me. And that’s all it will ever be.

I inhale. Exhale.

It’s all I’ll ever allow it to be.

I push off the wall, bury my feelings—I’m good at that—and walk around the corner. Evie’s still sitting where I left her a half hour ago, her nose in her book, her legs swinging back and forth. “Hey, buttercup, I’m ready for you now.”

It takes her a moment to lift her head, her finger marking her place on the page. “Can I stay here?” she asks.

I consider that.

I want her safely in my office, away from any potential run-ins with?—

I shake my head.

But also…this is the hallway that leads to the locker room, to the weight room.

She’ll be closer to me.

To Kn?—

To me.

I grind my teeth together, shove that down, and ruffle Evie’s hair, further dislodging her braid. “Okay. But if you decide to head to my office, find me in the weight room and let me know, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

A kiss to the top of her head before I head off to get ready for the workout.

Some of the guys will be on the ice, and others will start in the gym. Most will hit both places at some point, swapping out with various groups, depending on who the coaches want to work with. My job is to supplement that, make certain the guys who need rest get it, ensure that the others who need pushing—unfortunately we have a fair amount of guys on the roster who need that?—

Not Knox.

Ugh.

And not Lake or Riggs or Storm. Not Bear or Leo or Colt.

Just…

The rest of them.

And I know it comes from the top.

That slow rot.

It starts with a comment, builds with silence, with complacency, and pretty soon it eats away at everything good.

I’ll leave before then.

Right now it’s…tolerable.

So long as I keep telling myself that.

I resist the urge to fuss over Evie further and head down the hall to the weight room, making sure that all of the necessary equipment is present and accounted for. Then I check in with the team’s head trainer, making sure that there aren’t any injuries I need to take into account and make modifications for.

By the time all of that is done, the guys are streaming in.

I guide a group of them through some flexibility and mobility exercises, taking special care to activate the gluts and core—they’ll need it, whether today on the ice or long-term throughout the season. Riggs starts in with a foam roller, targeting a tight muscle that’s been causing him knee pain. Lake’s on squats, lifting far more weight than I could ever dream of hefting. Leo’s working on grip strength and Storm…well, Storm is doing his least favorite thing, but also the most important series of movements for him in this moment, at least in my opinion.

(And, well, my opinion is important because it’s why I get paid the big bucks to order these guys around.)

All that being said, my young charge is getting friendly with his resistance band.

And scowling at me through every second.

I smother a smile, type up my notes, and I keep a watchful eye on everyone, tracking weights and sets and reps in my spreadsheet, stepping in to modify and correct movements as needed…just doing my job.

This is the part I love.

The part that brings me such joy.

Feeling like I’m making a difference, putting all my skills and knowledge and schooling to good use. Helping them feel better, perform better?—

It’s intoxicating.

It’s why I’m here?—

And maybe also because I can’t afford to not be here, not yet.

“What crawled into your coffee today, Ivy?” Leo teases, sweat beading on his forehead as he hefts the dumbbells.

I smirk. “I think if you’re talking that easily while you’re lifting then you can go up in weight.”

He groans.

My smirk widens.

But before I can snag the next weight up, I hear?—

“Mom!”

I glance up in time to see my daughter running into the room, her hair in an intricate set of braids I know is courtesy of Knox sending a text to his talented hairdresser sister, Ella. She works her magic on the regular before Sierra games, and who am I kidding? Ella works her magic around everyone all the time.

Even more so now that she’s dating Riggs.

And Evie is just lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that Ella Adler magic.

I wave, but before I can say anything, Lake smiles at her and wipes his forehead with a towel, saying, “I like the glitter.”

My lips twitch. Because, swear to God, if someone had told me six months ago that the grumpy captain of the Sierra would be commenting on braids and noticing glitter then I…

Well, I never would have believed it.

But here he is, softened by Ella’s best friend, Nova. She’s just as amazing as Ella—a nature photographer who spent years traveling the world and seeing all sorts of amazing things, documenting them for magazines and online news sites.

And now Lake is complimenting glitter.

“Thanks!” Evie says, lifting her hand and bumping it against the big fist that Lake holds out before she winds her way through the room and stops beside me.

“All good, peanut?” I ask, tugging lightly at the end of her braid.

“Yup! Ella did my hair for me.” She spins in a circle so I can properly admire Ella’s handiwork.

I make a mental note to find a way to repay her for all the braid time she’s put in over the last couple of months. “It looks great.”

Evie leans in like she’s imparting state secrets. “She let me have extra glitter.”

“I can see that.”

“And guess what?” she asks, positively vibrating with excitement, dislodging a sprinkling of glitter.

“What?” I reply dutifully even as I smother a shudder.

Glitter that I can’t wait to clean off Evie’s pillowcase. And rug. And jacket. And her booster seat. And?—

Right.

I’ll be cleaning it off of everything .

But my daughter’s smiling and even though I’ll be fighting another round with the herpes of the craft world, I won’t deny her the happiness, won’t complain and dampen the mood.

Not over glitter.

And not even when she opens her mouth and makes her next pronouncement?—

One that’s a hell of a lot harder to sweep up and out of my life.

“I invited Knox to dinner!”