Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Dean nods before reaching down to ruffle her silky hair. “Got it. But why don’t you guys go play with toys for a little while first, and we’ll hold smoothies until four, okay? Give Clover a chance to shower and clean up so she can join us?” He glances back at me. “You will join us, right? I bought enough berries for everyone.”
I bite my lip, torn between how much I want to join them and how much I want to run and hide under the covers until I sort through all my feelings.
So many feelings. So many totally inappropriate feelings…
But finally, I nod and say, “Sure. I’ll clean up and be right back.”
“Great. Then we’ll see you soon.” He smiles, warmly, kindly, not at all sexily.
But I still tingle all the way through my shower…
Twelve
DEAN
Eleven Days Later…
My lungs are on fire, but it’s the crunch in my shoulder that’s really doing me in. I’m thirty-five, a classic car so old you can’t buy parts for it anymore in hockey years, and Shep—Chicago’s favorite two-hundred-and-fifty-pound rookie—is currently grinding every one of my ancient gears.
I swear, I can feel his elbow digging into my spine, even through my chest protector.
“Fuck off, you little shit,” I growl.
“You know you love me, old fart,” he says, laughing as he presses even closer. “Give it up, and I’ll go away, I promise.”
Regretting every second I spent teaching this kid offensive strategy at that camp at his high school nearly a decade ago, I shout, “Little help!”
“Kate, over here,” Nix calls, his voice jagged over the roar of the crowd.
I don’t look his way.
I can’t. Shepherd is too damned close.
I can’t see anything but the curve of his beefy cheek as he promises, “It’ll all be over soon, brother. Just give me what I came for.”
I don’t, of course. The day I go down without a fight is the day I quit the NHL, and I’m not ready for that yet. Not yet. This old dog still has fight in him and a few tricks up his jersey sleeve.
As Nix calls my name again, I shoot blind toward the sound of his voice.
Almost immediately, Shep darts away, giving me a clear view as my shot hits Nix’s stick tape. A beat later, he passes it to Grammercy, who drives it up the ice and—cling. The puck hits the back of the net a split second before the time runs out.
The horn shrieks—a raw, beautiful wail that still makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery, even after all these years—and I thrust my arms into the air with a roar of victory.
Yes! Hell yes!
God, I needed that.
After all the stress and awkwardness and “what the fuck am I doing” of the nearly two weeks since Clover came to live above my garage, this clean, clear, unequivocal win feels damned good.
Smiling ear to ear, I turn to search the stands to my left. I always know where the girls are sitting when they come to a game, and I make sure to give them a wave and a thumbs-up before I celebrate with the team or pump a fist at the cameraman. I want them to know that they come first.
I’m already lifting a hand when I see the glitter-smothered poster Bella and Ava hold over their heads, with some help from Clover. It reads in giant sparkle letters—CONGRATS ON 1100 GAMES DADDY! WE LOVE YOU!
My jaw drops, my gut clenching as the air leaves my lungs.
Shit.
God…is it really?
My mind reels, doing the math, until I finally realize…it is my 1,100th.
In all the insanity of the past few months, I’d forgotten.
I have no idea how Clover found out. Maybe Blue called her? Or maybe Nix or Charlotte? I think they’re friends. Hell, I have no idea. I only know that I’m so grateful to her for helping make this happen for the girls. They’re clearly thrilled with their surprise.
Seeing them bursting with pride as they wave for the Jumbotron camera, their beaming faces blown up for the entire arena to “aw” over, is almost too much.
Too sweet. Too good.
I wish Frederica could see them, see how happy and healthy they are. See that they’re going to be okay, and that I’m doing everything I can to make sure of it, because I love them so much. I might never be able to love them enough to make up for what they’ve lost, but I can give them every bit of my heart.
And I can give them amazing people like Clover, her cheeks pink as she pumps her fist and chants, “Yay, Daddy! Yay, Daddy!” along with the girls.
I’m so moved, I don’t know what to do with myself.
So moved, I don’t realize tears are leaking down my cheeks until Torrance slams a fist into my shoulder, demanding, “Are you okay, man? You having a Menty B right now or something?”