“Say what now?” Hunter looks intrigued and excited. “You take your goalie to the hospital and pick up a hot nurse? I like your style, big bro. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Neither did I anymore,” I admit sheepishly and walk around the counter to head to the living area. He follows, like a puppy in search of a treat. If he had a tail it would be wagging. “I didn’t exactly pick her up. But I am flirting, and she seems to be flirting back.”
As if to prove my point, my text alert goes off again. I look down and read the message twice. It’s that good.
Pukey is totally a medical term.
Learned it in college along with icky and oogy.
Look forward to waking you up in a few hours with an update…sorry not sorry.
Okay now I’m just plain grinning. Hunter is too. “Okay, flirty you is freaking me out. It’s so abnormal, you look almost…happy.”
“Shut up. I haven’t been that bad,” I mutter and shove my phone in my pants pocket as I shrug out of my suit jacket.
He laughs. “You totally have. But I get it. It’s been a rough couple of years.”
“It has.” Lauren and I have been divorced for two years, but to be honest it’s been rough since before the divorce. The year before we both admitted the marriage wasn’t working was pretty bad too. “But maybe things are changing. I mean…”
I pause. Hunter’s face instantly morphs into an expression of support. People never believe we’re brothers because we look really different. I have more of my mom’s Italian genes, and he has more of my dad’s Irish ones. My hair and eyes are dark and my skin is olive where Hunter’s is very pale. He has light hazel eyes and, when he had hair, it was red. He started going bald early so he just shaves his head now. He’s shorter, five foot ten compared to my six four. Our personalities are different too. I’m less goofy than he is, and he hates sports, which I love. But he gets me like no one else, so I’m not surprised when he knows why I’m hesitating.
“You want to ask her out?” he says, and I nod.
“I’m thinking about it. But is it appropriate?” I have to ask. “I mean not only is she my goalie’s nurse, she is also his girlfriend’s sister and related to a player on the team.”
Hunter looks shocked by that revelation, but it doesn’t faze him long. “I doubt it’s breaking any ethics code if you ask her out. Besides you’re the goalie coach, not like a real coach. No one cares what you do.” He shrugs.
I slowly raise my middle finger at him. He smiles back.
“She doesn’t work for the team, and you’re not her patient. But you’re four months into the season, and she’s probably been at games to see her brother play. Honestly, it sounds like you should have run into her a hell of a lot sooner.”
“I wish I had,” I respond.
He laughs and rubs his hands together like some kind of evil genius in the middle of plotting something. “Oh…I like this. I like this a lot. You are finally back in the land of the living.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes and give his shoulder a shove. “I need to go check on Charlie. You should head home to that lovely wife of yours.”
“Maybe one day I can say that to you,” he replies as he grabs his jacket off the hook by the front door. “I mean I have never been able to say it to you because when you were married to that witch Lauren I didn’t actually want to send you home to her.”
I chuckle. “Shut up. Say hi to Mia.”
He nods and heads out the door. I lock up, shut off all the lights on the main floor, and head upstairs. The houseboat isn’t big, but I love it. I’ve always loved the water—any water. I grew up on a lake in Minnesota. In the summer I would water-ski and fish, and in the winter I would play hockey. We took annual trips to North Carolina, where my maternal grandparents lived. My parents would spend every day golfing, but I spent every day at the ocean body surfing and skim boarding.
Lauren worries constantly my houseboat puts Charlie at risk of being in a tsunami. She grew up in Redondo Beach near LA but hates the ocean. It’s so ridiculous. The only reason she lives in the area is because when we divorced she wanted to be near her parents. Now, she lives high up the hill in Marin, as far from the ocean as she can get.
I roll my eyes just thinking about it as I climb the metal-and-wood staircase to the second floor. I turn left and peek into Charlie’s room. The space is a wash of orange, red, blue, and green color from her night light on her wooden night table, which is a globe etched with multicolored dinosaurs carved in the shape of a T. rex. She’s on her left side, legs tucked up and arms tugging the covers up over most of her face. All I can see is her forehead and her mop of wavy copper hair. It’s a sign she wasn’t totally over her nightmare when she fell back asleep. A hard knot of guilt forms in my gut. I wish I could be here for her every minute of the day and night. I honestly do, but I know that’s not healthy. And I’m not away a lot. I’ve denied myself any form of a life outside work and Charlie, because I don’t want to take away from the time I do have with her. I don’t regret it, but I didn’t realize how lonely I am until tonight. Until Sadie.
I take a step into the room, but my text alert dings and I freeze. Charlie doesn’t move, thankfully. I step back into the hall, pull my phone out of my suit pants pocket and bite back a smile at her number on my screen. I check the text.
Eli’s CT is clear. Nothing abnormal.
Kid actually has a brain. Who knew? ;)
Pukefest should stop by morning and he’ll likely be released by noon.
I feel relief wash over me and start typing a response.
Good update, about the CT. I’m betting the doc will want him off the ice for a bit. I’m guessing a week.
I wouldn’t let Eli on the ice for a week at least anyway. I only stopped playing a little over four years ago, so I still distinctly remember being pushed through a concussion, more than once, and how it did me no good. I vowed when I became a coach I wouldn’t do it to my players.
You’re psychic! Yeah doc said 7-10 days.
Sorry. I know that’s not good for the game.
So, psychic, give me some winning lottery numbers. ;)
I chuckle. Funny, getting her as Eli’s nurse kind of feels like I won a lottery. I start to type back, my fingers moving quickly, trying to outrun the nervous tension spreading through my body. I can’t believe I’m about to do this…
Trust me I’m not psychic. If I was I would know the answer to the question I want to ask you.
I lean against the wall outside Charlie’s room and wait. Is this stupid? Is she really flirting with me? Am I flirting with her? Do I even still know how to do that? My phone beeps.
What question is that? Don’t leave me hanging….
Here I go. Maybe dating is like riding a bike…even though it feels more like walking off a cliff.
I’d know the answer to whether you want to have coffee with me tomorrow afternoon?
Am I even free tomorrow afternoon? Should I have checked my calendar? Nah. I know I don’t have Charlie, and fuck anything else. For this woman, I’ll reschedule.
I scrub a hand over my face. It feels like the longest minute of my life, but that’s all it takes for her to respond.
I’d love to.
My face explodes in a smile, and my chest releases a huge breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I type back a time and a place, hoping it works. Four p.m., Saint Frank Coffee on Polk. I have no idea where she lives, but even if it’s on the other side of San Francisco I will pick her up and drive her there. It’s that good.
I set my phone to silent and head back into Charlie’s room. Her little fists have released the viselike grip she was holding the blankets with, and she’s flopped over onto her back. I can see her whole little face now; she seems peaceful. I stop at the side of the bed, lean down and smooth back her hair. She doesn’t stir. Just in case she has another dream I leave the door wide open and leave mine at the other end of the short hall open too.
I put my
phone on the dresser in my room and realize she responded.
See you then, Griffin.
I just lined up my first date since the divorce. I kind of wish Hunter were still here so I could high-five someone.
4
Griffin
When I wake up the next morning, I instantly think of Sadie, and it puts me in a great mood. I reach over and check my phone. She’s left me a new message, and I smile.
Hey coach. Your goalie will make it. Upchucking has stopped.
Pupils are back to normal. He’s asking me to get him a milkshake.
Should be discharged by noon.
I lean back against my headboard and type a response.
Glad to hear it but please remind him milkshakes are not part of the Thunder meal plan. Pucks bounce off fat way too easily.
Hope you get some sleep too. I’m not the most exciting date andI’d hate to have you fall asleep on me.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so self-effacing, but I’m so rusty at this dating thing that I can’t help joking about my insecurity. I’m not the type of guy to put on fake bravado. It used to make Lauren so mad. She always wanted me to be less authentic, which I thought was ridiculous. My phone buzzes with a text.
I think you’re pretty damn compelling so I doubt I’ll even yawn.
But I’ll order a double espresso, just in case. ;)
I laugh.
“What’s so funny, Dad?”
Charlie is standing at the door to my room in her Minion-themed pajamas, her hair all over the place. She rubs her left eye with the back of her hand. I put my phone on the nightstand. “Morning, kiddo. Come up here.”
Charlie pads her way into the room and climbs up onto my king-size bed. She drops herself dramatically onto the pillows beside me, then makes a big deal about fluffing them up as she settles in next to me. “Why were you laughing? YouTube videos?”
“Not videos,” is all I say and try to tame her hair. It’s thick and wavy like mine, which we get from my mother, and it makes for some incredible morning bedhead. But instead of it being dark brown like mine, it’s unabashedly red, which she gets from my dad, along with the freckles. Her light eyes and the dimple in her chin are all Lauren, though. “Are you ready for your favorite breakfast?”
She grins. It’s my favorite thing in the world to look at. “Apple pancakes?”
I nod, and she giggles excitedly. “Can I help?”
The kid loves to cook…well, more accurately, she loves to eat ingredients while I cook, but I don’t mind. In fact, I kind of love it. I nod and she scrambles off the bed, running out of my room. I stand up and throw on a T-shirt to go with the sweatpants I slept in and call for her to hold the railing going down the stairs.
I grab my phone and send one last quick message to Sadie.
I am really looking forward to seeing you again.
Then I leave my phone on the nightstand and head down to the kitchen.
Forty-five minutes later Charlie and I are both full of cinnamon apple pancakes and she’s in the living room watching Clifford the Big Red Dog on Netflix while I clean up and drink an espresso. I’m so glad she isn’t talking about her nightmare, and she didn’t wake up again last night. I asked her, while we ate, if she had a good night, and she nodded and said Uncle Hunter took her for frozen yogurt, which she shortens and pronounces “frodo.” She doesn’t bring up the nightmare or calling her mom, so I don’t either. I still wish I had been here for her, though.
I glance at the clock on the stove. I have two more hours with her before she’s due back at her mom’s, and I can’t be late because Lauren has already proven she’s in bitch mode, and I don’t want to make things worse. “Charlie, how about you run upstairs and change and we go to the park before you head back to Mom’s?”
“The park next to the dog park?” she asks, and I inwardly groan. She has become super obsessed with dogs, and I know when her birthday rolls around she’s going to ask for one of her own. Lauren hates pets, so she’ll say no, and I’m not around enough with the hockey schedule to keep a dog here for her. Ugh. This may be her first heartbreak.
“Okay,” I say because that park also has a skateboard ramp, and she can easily be pulled away from watching pooches to watch skaters. She also wants a skateboard. My daughter is a big fan of anything that causes me heart palpitations and gray hair.
She scrambles upstairs, and I join her a few minutes later and change into jeans and a cable-knit sweater. Charlie does a decent job of dressing herself, which isn’t always the case, so we make it to the park fairly quickly. We spend the rest of our time together goofing off on the jungle gym, watching the skaters and dogs. By the time I’m driving her back to Lauren’s she’s yawning, which should make Lauren happy. Last time I dropped Charlie off, Lauren complained she was “hopped up on sugar” and wouldn’t go to bed on time.
She meets me at the door, her boyfriend, Cale, standing behind her in the hall, yanking on his shitty leather jacket. He looks like he just woke up and hasn’t bothered to comb his greasy black hair, let alone shower. But then again, he always looks like that. He’s a musician in a band named Two Dollar Bill, which is about the amount of money he’s made in his career too.
“Hey.” He grumbles to me as he steps through the open front door, giving Lauren a half-hearted kiss on the cheek as he passes. “Later, Chuck.”
Charlie gives him a lackluster wave, and I visibly bristle. I fucking hate that he calls her Chuck. It’s not a term of endearment, it’s a sign he doesn’t give a fuck. And it’s not that I want this jackwad to be in love with my kid, but I do want him to be respectful. And he’s not. My eyes meet Lauren’s. She knows what I’m thinking and instantly rolls hers. She sings Cale’s praises every chance she gets. I want better people than this idiot named after a vegetable in my daughter’s life.
Charlie clammers through the open door, and Lauren tries to smooth her hair. “Does Daddy forget to brush your hair?”
“I brushed it,” I say quietly. “We were at the park and it got messed up.”
“You know you should put it in braids or pigtails when she’s at the park,” Lauren chides.
“Okay. Next time.” I give her an overly large smile.
Charlie turns and wraps her little arms around my leg. “Bye, Daddy. See you soon.”
“Bye, Charlie.” I bend and kiss the top of her head. “Call me tonight, okay?”
She nods and disappears into the house. I nod at Lauren and start down her front walk. “Griffin!”
I turn to face her. I feel an overwhelming sense of dread. I say nothing, waiting for her to speak. She looks oddly uncomfortable. “Are you going to work now?”
My brow furrows. “Yeah. Why?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. I just was wondering. You still want her on Wednesday?”
“I want her every day,” I reply, trying not to sound as annoyed as I am. She frowns, deep and hard, and huffs before turning around and shutting the front door. Luckily, she didn’t slam it, but I know she wanted to. At least she’s keeping up her end of our pact not to fight or be hateful to each other in front of our daughter. I’ll take that as a win.
I try not to dwell how much Lauren’s attitude annoys me as I drive to the rink. Instead I start thinking about Sadie again. I’ve only been with the Thunder since the start of the season, but I’m surprised I haven’t seen her before. Her brother Jude is not just a star for the Thunder, he’s a superstar in the league. I had hated playing against him, although as the backup goalie on most teams, I didn’t face him often. I think only twice. I remember him being talented yet devious. He didn’t mind crowding your crease and was the king of trash-talking on the ice. Working for the team now, I see him differently. He’s hardworking and loyal to his teammates, with a sharp sense of humor, which I now know is clearly a family trait, as are the blond hair and blue eyes. The whole team was aware of his family because Dixie was always hanging around and attending games and fund-raising events as Eli’s significant other, and I�
��d been told she used to work for the Thunder. Jude’s a very vocal advocate for ALS, and I’d seen his dad at games in a wheelchair. I just didn’t realize he had more than one sister. How the hell had I missed that?
I get to the arena, and my mood shifts dramatically. I’m never in a bad mood when I’m around a rink. From the time I was a kid until right now, everything about hockey, the rink, the ice, makes me feel at peace. Joyful, even. The Thunder’s head coach meets me at the door to our offices, which are tucked in just past the training rooms. “How’s Casco?”
“He’ll be okay, but he’s going to need about a week off at least,” I reply.
Coach swears under his breath. “We’re playing the Saints tomorrow. Do you think Carling is ready for them and fucking Westwood?”
I nod firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I spend the next two hours with Noah Carling, the team’s former starter and now backup goalie. Eli stepped in when Noah needed surgery last year, and despite a rocky start, Eli helped the Thunder earn a Cup last year, so he earned the starting position. Noah has been a little shaky since his return, and maybe a little bummed he lost his spot, but as we work together I know he’s going to be fine against the best team in the league right now.
As I leave for the day, I’m excited to see Sadie again. I dig in my pocket for my phone—all my pockets…I can’t find it. Did I leave it in the car? In my office? I start to mentally walk through my day.
“Excuse me?”
I realize there’s a young guy standing in front of me. I wonder if he’s a fan of the team. Sometimes they wait in the parking lot to get autographs and selfies with players after practice. “Players already left for the day. Sorry.”
“Are you Griffin Sullivan?” he asks.
When It's Right Page 4
