CHAPTER ONE

Matt Carlson pulled through the gates into his driveway, confused by the unfamiliar minivan parked next to his real estate agent's Lexus.

The minivan was a little older, a little beat-up. It reminded Matty of the kind of thing he'd driven when he was playing in the East Coast Hockey League and making peanuts.

Weird for a guy buying a multi-million-dollar house.

Maybe it didn't belong to the man who was supposed to be touring the place today though?

Maybe it belonged to a contractor or something. There weren't many repair jobs left to tackle before Matty sold the house but at some point, the gutter guy was supposed to be stopping by to replace a section along the eaves and somebody had to deal with the broken-down tennis court.

God, it was going to be weird leaving.

Matty had been so excited when he bought the house. He'd held Courtney's hand as they strolled through it, happy and excited about their future. He'd imagined the home filled with children's laughter, with a wife he loved and the big family he always wanted.

But Courtney had left with some scathing remarks about his masculinity, taking a giant chunk of his NHL salary and all of his plans for the future with her.

Matty didn't know why he'd been paying to live in this giant house and its big echoing rooms. He should have sold the place years ago.

He still didn't know where he'd live once the sale went through, but at this point, he didn't fucking care, just wanted to be rid of it and the lingering embarrassment at the way his marriage to Courtney Quinn had ended.

Maybe he'd just start sleeping on his yacht.

Matty had paid enough for that fucking thing too. It had been a dumb purchase after the divorce when he'd been trying to convince himself he could be a rich, single guy who enjoyed a lifestyle of casual sex on yachts.

Yeah, that was so not him.

Matty had kept the yacht because he liked being out on the water and liked having a place his teammates could hang out, but otherwise? It was a giant waste of money.

And he had plenty of dough but sometimes he felt like he had no idea what to do with all of it so he just bought random shit to feel like he was doing something.

Matty got out of his Jeep with a shake of his head. He knew he wasn't the smartest guy on the Toronto Fisher Cats team, but wow he'd made some really, really stupid mistakes over the years.

Now, it was only eleven a.m. but the air felt oppressive as Matty reached for his golf bag. It had been hot on the course this morning, the mid-August sun beating down as he played eighteen holes with a few of his teammates to celebrate turning thirty-three yesterday.

Matty tossed the golf bag over his shoulder, then ambled toward the minivan, curious to see if it held tools. There was no logo on the side or anything.

He peered inside, expecting to find it empty, and jerked in surprise when he saw a man with his head in his hands. His shoulders shook and he looked … God, was he crying?

Oh no.

Matty rapped on the window, calling out, "Hey, buddy, you okay?"

The guy startled, eyes wide and terrified as he glanced over, and Matty realized he probably looked scary as hell standing here all big and hulking and holding golf clubs.

Like some kind of brute who was going to smash in the van window or something.

Matty set down the bag and held out his hands, smiling, palms forward in a universal gesture of, ‘see, I'm harmless.'

The window rolled down, the glare from the bright sun disappearing and giving him a better look at the man inside.

"God, sorry!" he gasped, his chest heaving, eyes a little red and lashes wet with tears. "I am so sorry. I'll get out of here!"

He fumbled for the ignition and the van started with a reluctant rumble.

Matty frowned. "Seriously, man. Are you okay?"

A fresh wave of tears spilled over the guy's cheeks but he hastily wiped them away with the back of his hand. "You're here to look at the house, yeah? Sharon's inside. I'll get out of your hair. I won't be buying this place anyway so it's all yours and—"

"Hey," Matty said softly, worried. "Seriously, take a deep breath or two, man."

Closing his eyes, he dragged in a ragged breath. And then another.

He was a little younger than Matty, maybe. Not by a lot, but probably in his late twenties, with fair skin and dark curly hair. Wet, clumpy lashes were thick against his cheeks and Matty felt a pang in his chest.

God, what was this guy going through?

When he blinked his eyes open again, he looked calmer.

"Hey. So, I'm not here to look at the house," Matty explained, holding out a hand. "I'm the homeowner. Matty—uhh, Matt Carlson."

There wasn't a flicker of recognition at Matty's name but he did shake Matty's hand. His own was warm and soft, slender, and almost delicate compared to Matty's big meaty paws, which were covered in calluses from stickhandling and weightlifting.

Hmm, probably not a contractor then. No one who did physical labor for a living had hands like that. Matty would know. He'd worked a lot of jobs with manual labor in the offseason before he'd signed an NHL contract.

"Hey. Sorry again." The guy sniffed, pulling away. "This is awkward. Didn't mean to have a breakdown in your driveway."

"Yeah, that's okay," Matty said softly. "Some days are just like that."

Matty'd had a few after his divorce, that was for damn sure. He'd gotten drunk and cried on his tennis court late one night, in fact.

Of course, there hadn't been anyone to see him either, so there was that.

The guy managed a weak smile.

Hmm, maybe he was the man Sharon mentioned a few days ago. She'd said her nephew urgently needed a place. Matty had agreed to let her give him a tour and try to sell the house before it officially went on the market.

This must be him. The beat-up minivan was weird but whatever.

"You're Anthony?" Matty guessed. "Sharon's nephew?"

"Uhh, yeah, I'm her nephew. Antonio Bianchi. I go by Antoni though." He was still trembling a little, shoulders shuddering with strangled breaths.

Whoops, Matty should have been paying more attention when Sharon talked. He kept getting distracted by the way her forehead didn't move at all. He'd never met someone with so much cosmetic surgery before.

Matty gave the guy a reassuring smile. "Hey, Antoni. You can call me Matty. Now, I don't think you should be driving like this. You wanna come in for a bit and have a snack and a drink of water?"

"Oh God. That's so nice but no, I should get going." Antoni wiped at his face again. "I just, um, I'll be fine. You have a great home but I think there was some mix-up about what I'm looking for. I'm a teacher. I can't afford a house like this. Aunt Sharon must have misunderstood or something. She knew I was desperate to find a home in this neighborhood and hoping for a miracle—" He cut himself off. "But you don't care about this. I'll go. I should go. Yeah."

Matty studied Antoni, worried. "No. I really don't think you're safe on the road like this. I don't want you crashing. If you pull in the garage, I can get rid of Sharon. I'll feed you something and then when you feel steady enough, you can head out, okay? It would make me feel better if you stayed for a bit. Just until you're safe to drive."

Antoni went still and closed his eyes. Tears still glittered on those thick dark lashes again and Matty took a moment to look him over more closely.

His dark brown hair was a little curly and he had a freshly shaved jaw. He wasn't soft and delicate or anything, there was strength in his shoulders and his upper arms, like he worked out regularly, but he looked so vulnerable. Sort of sweet and sad.

Like someone who needed a big squishy hug.

"Yeah, okay," Antoni rasped, looking up at Matty with red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you."

"It's no problem," Matty said soothingly. "I'll put up the garage doors and you just pull into a spot, okay?"

"Sure. Yeah, that sounds good." Antoni released a shuddering breath. "This really is so nice of you."

His voice cracked at the end and Matty reached through the open window and patted his shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, man."

Unfortunately, that set the guy off again and he took a few more deep, shuddering breaths.

"Sorry. Sorry. God, I'm a mess."

"I'll meet you in the garage, yeah?" Matty coaxed.

"Yeah. Okay."

Matty turned and walked back to his Jeep. Hopefully Antoni wouldn't crash into any of the expensive shit Matty had stashed in there but whatever.

It was only money. He could afford to fix anything that got broken. Besides, it was just stuff. This guy was really going through something.

But when Matty opened the garage door, Antoni carefully cruised inside and parked. Matty pulled into an open spot beside him.

He'd just sold his Maserati Quattroporte sedan and the Ducati Multistrada bike he'd never actually learned to ride, so he had plenty of room in the six-car garage for the old, beat-up van.

Matty walked over to Antoni and offered him a reassuring smile. "You just wait here while I get rid of Sharon."

"Th—thanks."

It only took Matty a few moments to find Sharon standing in the entryway of his house. She was speaking to someone on the phone but her eyes widened and she wrapped up the call immediately and ended it, stuffing the phone in her designer bag.

"Mr. Carlson. I am so sorry. I must have misunderstood what time you'd be back."

"No, I think it's my fault," he admitted sheepishly. "I got here a little earlier than we agreed on."

She frowned. "I have no idea where Antoni is. My nephew, he was touring the place but he disappeared and—"

"Oh, he left," Matty said as casually as he could manage. "Guy in a minivan, right? He looked like he was in a hurry or something."

He was a terrible liar but Sharon didn't know him well enough to tell that.

A concerned expression crossed her face. "Oh dear. I hope everything's okay and that nothing happened with the kids."

"How many kids does he have?" Matty asked.

"Four and one's just a baby. Goodness, so much responsibility for a guy that age. And with no wife—or, well, husband, I suppose. He's gay. I think." She shot Matty a vaguely guilty look. "We're not blood relatives, you know. I married his uncle a few years ago and I've only met him once or twice before today."

"Makes sense," Matty said, although none of it really made sense at all.

"I mean, to go from being single with no kids to raising four overnight, just like that?" She shook her head. "Huge responsibility. But, well, you remember that horrible pileup on Highway 401 last spring, yeah? When all those rainstorms came through?"

He nodded, although he only vaguely knew what she was talking about. His team, the Toronto Fisher Cats, had been in the midst of the playoffs at the time but he'd heard about the multi-car accident that had killed several people.

"Well, it was the saddest thing. Antoni's friends died in that crash, leaving four helpless kids behind. Antoni was in the will as guardian of the children. What a single man knows about raising kids is beyond me but I suppose the parents never thought something like this would actually happen." She shook her head again and sighed. "So now he's looking for a home that will accommodate them all. I hate to say this, Mr. Carlson, but I don't think it'll be your place he buys. He kept shaking his head and muttering something about ‘too much' the whole time we were touring it. Wanted something big enough for a family of five and in this neighborhood. Well, houses here with this many bedrooms don't come up for sale often, you know, so I don't know what else he thinks he's going to find quickly."

"Well, that's okay," Matty said with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure we'll find the right family for this place eventually. I'm not in a rush."

Her face brightened. "Of course we will! Anyway, I'll get out of your hair. The gutter guy will be here Tuesday, and they'll be resurfacing the tennis court Thursday. I promise, we'll have the house up for sale next week with the perfect buyers for this place!"

"Sounds great," Matty said with a reassuring smile as he tried to herd her toward the front door.

Matty sighed with relief when she finally disappeared down the sidewalk. Okay, now he just had to be sure Antoni was still in the garage. It had taken Matty a lot longer to get Sharon out of the house than he expected.

But at least now Matty understood why the guy was crying in his driveway. Or at least, he was pretty sure of why. Matty wanted kids but four of them unexpectedly? That was a lot for anyone. That sounded overwhelming as hell.

Thankfully, Antoni was still in the garage where Matty had left him. He looked exhausted, slumped back against the seat of his van with his eyes closed, and Matty's heart panged.

Poor guy.

Matty coaxed Antoni out of the van and when he gently pressed his palm to Antoni's back to guide him into the house, his steps hitched and for a brief moment, he leaned into the touch with a quiet sigh.

It made Matty feel good, like the guy really needed him, needed his help, so he herded Antoni into the kitchen, then pulled out a stool at the high island counter. "You sit here," he instructed, patting the leather seat.

"Uh, thanks." Antoni settled onto it.

"You want anything to drink?" Matty asked. "Water? Sports drink? Soda pop? Beer? Coffee?"

"Water is fine." He offered Matty a tight, exhausted smile. "Thanks."

Matty filled a glass, then handed it over. "So, what do you eat?"

Antoni shrugged. "Uhh, anything, really? I have about ten recipes I can cook and two of them involve sandwiches."

"Are sandwiches actually cooking?" Matty asked, amused.

"They are if you put them in a pan and toast them." A glimmer of a smile appeared on Antoni's face. It made Matty happy. Antoni didn't look quite so defeated now.

Matty grinned back. "Fair."

"But yeah, I'm not picky. These days I do whatever is cheapest, easiest, and healthiest." Antoni rubbed his hands over his face, then dropped them into his lap. "Alexis—my fourteen-year-old—she's a vegetarian and talking about becoming vegan and I will scream if she does. I mean, not at her, of course. But I don't even want to figure out how to afford that."

"So, is a tight budget why you were crying in my driveway?" Matty asked.

"God." Antoni covered his face with his hands again, his voice muffled. "This is so embarrassing."

"Okay, you talk, I'll chop things. I won't even look at you."

Antoni laughed, glancing up, his smile real this time as he brushed dark hair off his forehead. "I do look pretty bad, huh?"

"Well, I didn't say that," Matty blurted out. He turned away, his ears hot as he rummaged blindly in the refrigerator.

God, he wasn't flirting with Antoni.

He wasn't … he never responded to people like that. He didn't get horny for strangers the way his teammates did. He'd seen Nico Arents go from flirting to sticking his tongue down some random person's throat in about five seconds flat and it absolutely baffled Matty.

He didn't do that—couldn't do that. He just wasn't wired that way at all.

And it wasn't like Antoni's smile made Matty want to bend him over the counter or anything close to it. He wasn't horny for him.

But the whole situation did make Matty want to wrap the guy up in a big hug and tell him everything was going to be okay.

The silence stretched on as Matty bent over again, randomly pulling things out of the refrigerator and piling them on the counter next to it.

"So, uh," he threw over his shoulder when the quiet grew awkward. "You're supposed to be talking."

Antoni cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, so my life is a little … weird right now."

"Because you unexpectedly inherited four kids?" Matty supplied, turning.

Antoni blinked. "How do you know … oh, my Aunt Sharon told you?"

"Yes." Matty closed the refrigerator door and leaned against the counter, looking across the wide expanse of the island with a sheepish expression. "Sorry."

"No, that's easier, honestly. I don't really know what to say otherwise." He laughed awkwardly. "It's so … I've spent every moment since last spring just waiting for someone to tell me this isn't real or I'm dreaming or … God, I don't even know."

He shook his head, looking dazed.

"You lost your friends in a car accident?" Matty prompted, voice soft as he pulled out plates and began taking food out of containers. "That sounds terrible."

"Yeah." Antoni's swallow was audible. "I did and it was. Bethany and Corey Swanson. They were … so Bethany and I were close growing up. She was both my babysitter and de facto big sister. We both grew up two streets over from here, actually."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks. It's been tough for sure. She and her husband were my best friends and I'm not sure I've really had time to even grieve them, you know?" He looked down at his clasped hands. "Just been so focused on the kids. Trying to help them cope."

"Poor kiddos," Matty said softly. "That's rough. They're lucky to have you."

"You think?" Antoni looked up, expression painfully earnest, like he really wanted to hear what Matty thought.

"Hey, it's obvious you care about them," Matty said. He reached for a cutting board and a knife. "And that's what's important, right? You're trying to give them a good life, I can tell that much already."

"Trying, yeah." Antoni's laugh was hollow. "God, if I don't find a place to live soon though, we're fucked."

"Yeah? Where are you now?"

"Here in the St. Andrew-Windfields neighborhood but a little west of here, closer to the 401. We're in a rental that's way too small but we've been making it work. Unfortunately, the lease is up next month and the asshole landlord is jacking up the rent. I was right at the top of my budget already and it's not rent controlled. What the landlord is asking is just … I can't manage it. I don't have a clue why Aunt Sharon brought me to this place. It's way out of my budget. I'm a fucking teacher for God's sake." He let out an annoyed huff.

"What do you teach?" Matty asked, slicing a mini bell pepper.

"English lit and poetry."

"Umm, not to be rude," Matty said. "But why did your Aunt Sharon think you could afford this place on a teacher's salary?"

Matty's house wasn't the most expensive place in St. Andrew-Windfields area but it was up there.

"Right?" Antoni shook his head, laughing softly. "I've been wondering that since I arrived. My parents are well-off—but … I don't know. Maybe Sharon thought they were going to help me pay for this place or something?"

"Is that something your family could do?"

"Oh yeah, they actually gave me enough for a down payment on a home. I'm really grateful. But it's not enough for a place like this."

"Why were you hoping for this neighborhood?" Matty asked. St. Andrew-Windfields was one of the pricier areas of Toronto. "Why not move to the 'burbs or something?"

Antoni blinked. "Because I already have to commute nearly forty minutes each way to get to my job and I don't want to pull the kids out of schools they already love and—"

"Woah. Sorry." Matty grimaced. "Guess I just put my foot in my mouth there."

Antoni gave him a halfhearted smile. "No, it's okay. I understand the question. But the kids are currently in this district and the last thing I want to do is disrupt things even more for them. They need that stability, plus the schools are great. And yeah, there's the out-of-area admissions option, of course, but it's extremely competitive and I can't be sure all of them would be able to get in. I can't run all over Toronto shuttling the kids around to different school districts, you know? There aren't enough hours in the day."

"Yeah, that sounds like a lot," Matty agreed, amazed by the rush of words leaving Antoni's mouth. He seemed to be on a roll.

Antoni nodded. "Right? I have my job too and I have to scramble for babysitters half the time. My family helps out as much as they can but my mom has MS and—"

"MS?" Matty interrupted.

"Multiple Sclerosis. It's an awful disease. Basically her immune system attacks her own nerves."

Matty grimaced, stuffing the small peppers with herbed cream cheese. That did sound awful.

Antoni must have caught his look because he nodded. "Yeah, exactly. Her brain and body slowly stop communicating with each other and it gets progressively worse with every year. She's getting treatment, of course, but she has the type of MS where she has periods of relapse where it gets worse for a while and then better and there's really no way to know when she'll feel really good and when she won't. She hasn't had a flare up yet—not since I got the kids—but it will happen eventually. And my parents have been so amazing through this whole thing but I just can't put any more on them than I already do, you know?"

"Yeah, definitely. That sounds tough for all of you."

Antoni swallowed hard, nodding. "I love the kids so much but I'm fucking overwhelmed and I just need this housing thing figured out now."

"Well, why don't you eat something? I know it won't fix anything you have going on but at least you won't be overwhelmed and hungry."

Antoni offered him a faint smile, the tension in his shoulders softening. "Thanks. This has been really kind of you, Matt."

Matty shrugged. "You seemed like you needed a break. And please, call me Matty."