Glove Save (Carolina Comets)

“I hear you’re training a kid,” Hayes says, dropping into the stall next to me. It’s not even his usual place, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Yep,” I answer, stripping off my water-soaked jersey.

Practice was brutal today. Coach Heller had us running drills for nearly an hour after our loss last night. He wants us to be back to where we were, no fuckups, so we can go back on the road with a win under our belt.

“How’s that going?”

“Well, she’s upright on the ice, so I guess good.”

“Goalie, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, but she seems interested in all the positions, so it might not stick.”

Hayes nods, removing his own gear. “It’s the donut truck girl, yeah?”

“What?”

“The kid you’re training—she belongs to the donut truck girl, right?”

“Stevie.”

“That’s the kid?”

I shake my head. “No, that’s the mom. Macie is the kid.”

“Right.” Hayes nods again. “Same one from the bar, yeah?”

My eyes narrow as I grow agitated with his line of questioning. “Yes.”

“Hmm.”

I stop removing my gear and sit up, staring over at him. It takes him a second to realize I’m looking his way.

“What?” he asks, but I see the fucker’s lip twitch.

“Don’t what me. Why the fuck are you asking?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

I clench my jaw. “Why are you asking?”

“You’ve just been spending a lot of time with her is all.”

“Because I’m helping her kid.”

“Right, and you helped her, didn’t you? That night, I mean.”

That’s right; he was there. I didn’t think he was paying attention, but I guess I was wrong.

“Yes. She went to my mother’s wedding with me.”

His reddish brows shoot up. “Hmm.”

It’s his second hmm of the conversation, and I’m officially fed up.

“Just fucking say whatever it is you’re going to say.”

He holds his hands up. “Nothing, man. Just interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, you hate people and kids.”

“Ugh.” I groan. “I don’t fucking hate kids. Why does everyone say that?”

“Because you literally ran away when Lowell tried to hand you his, and that’s the cutest damn baby I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“She was crying. I don’t do crying babies.”

“She was not crying. She was being her usual cute self.”

“Yeah, with snot running out of her nose.” I shudder. “No-fucking-thanks.”

The other guys start piling into the room, some of them stripping out of their own gear, a few just sitting there trying to catch their breath.

“What are we talking about?” Miller asks, running a towel across the back of his neck.

“Greer’s training some kid.”

“No shit?” Rhodes asks, his own brows raised.

“You hate kids,” Lowell chimes in. “You literally ran away from mine. Really rude considering Freddie is the cutest child I’ve ever seen.”

“See?” Hayes says, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I shove him away, and he laughs.

“Who are you training?” our captain asks.

“Scout’s niece,” Miller answers. “She’s ten and loves hockey. I’m her favorite player.” He grins proudly.

“Pretty sure after I let her sit behind the wheel of my ZR1 and I’m giving her free hockey lessons, I’m her favorite,” I tell him, elated to burst his bubble.

He flips me off, and I pretend to catch it, kiss it, and send it right back to him.

“So everything’s all good after her fall?” Wright asks.

“Wait—you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Rhodes looks at his fellow defenseman like he just kicked his puppy or something.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d care. I—wait, Rhodes, hang on.” Wright pushes off the bench, chasing after his best friend like he’s a boyfriend who just got in trouble.

Everyone laughs, shaking their heads at them, totally used to the best friends and their dramatics.

“Don’t you have, like, no spare time at all?” Lowell asks, going into full captain mode. “I mean, we’re in a good spot right now and the post-season starts soon, but this is the time we need to be most focused.”

“I have it covered.”

“You sure?”

I sigh. “Yes, Dad. I’m good. It won’t affect my game.”

He nods. “Good. We don’t need any distractions this year.”

“You have two distractions at home—that kid and your woman. Am I not allowed to have anyone?”

He tips his head. “Is that what they are to you? Your woman and your kid?”

“Can we not call them women? Seems a bit misogynist,” Fitz mutters.

“Scout loves it when I call her woman,” Miller comments, a goofy grin on his face.

“Greer?”

“What?” I bite out.

“Is that what they are to you?” Hayes asks thoughtfully.

“No. But even if they were, who cares?”

This raises a few brows in the room, and I don’t miss it.

It’s annoying. It’s none of their business if I’m spending time with Stevie and Macie. They all have their own lives too. I can have mine. Besides, they aren’t interfering with my game, and that’s all that matters, right? I’m still playing and still winning. Who cares that I’m having fun in my free time?

My stomach cramps, and I rub at it, trying to get rid of the sudden pain.

“They’re nobody to me,” I declare, pushing the ache aside. “Just a friend and her kid. That’s it.”

“Hmm.”

This from Fitz this time.

I flip him off, just about as annoyed with him as I am with Hayes and all his stupid questions. He just shrugs it off.

“They mean nothing,” I insist, but the statement isn’t as strong as it should be.

This time, nobody says a thing, and I get the feeling they don’t believe me either.

If you’d told me a month ago I’d be willingly going to some fundraiser at a school, I’d have laughed in your face.

It’s true what everyone says—I don’t really like kids. Most of the time, they’re loud and obnoxious and drive me insane. But when Stevie asked if I’d consider stopping by to help them raise money for their yearly field trip, I couldn’t say no.

So, here I am, at a damn school surrounded by snot-nosed little shits.

The truth is, though, I don’t entirely hate it. In fact, they’re kind of…cute. They’re all full of questions, and their eyes are wide with wonder.

We’re standing in the middle of the hallway as parents and teachers mill around, looking at all the tables spread out, each littered with baskets and other things up for auction. The kids will sing some songs and tell us facts about the overnight aquarium trip they want to take, and we’re supposed to bid on everything afterward to raise money for the trip and the touch tank experience.

What nobody knows is I’ve already cut a check to the school to cover the entire thing, so any leftover money is going to a special experience where they get to feed a shark.

“Tell us about the time you made that save on Connor McDavid, Greer.”

“I grabbed the puck out of the air.”

“Wow!” three of them say in unison, and I’ve never felt cooler.

“That’s so cool,” says a little boy with oversized, Coke-bottle-lensed glasses. “I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

“You can’t—I’m going to be just like him when I grow up,” Macie says, her chest all puffed out. “I’m going to be the next great goaltender for the Comets.”

“You’re a girl!” another boy says, his nose all scrunched up. “Girls can’t play hockey!”

“Hey.” I point a finger at the little shit. “Girls can play hockey all they want. I know some incredible female hockey players, actually. Hell, some are better goalies than me. So don’t tell her she can’t do something, got it?”

The kid nods frantically, his eyes wide with fear.

Someone pulls on my shirt, and I turn to find a little boy with an off-center tie staring up at me. He crooks a finger, and I bend down to hear him.

“You said hell,” he whispers.

“Sorry,” I whisper back. “I meant heck.”

“I won’t tell,” he promises.

I do everything I can to nod solemnly and not laugh. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I push back up to my feet, tucking my hands into my pockets as the kids continue to lob questions at me.

“What’s it like playing with the Beast? Is he really as mean as he looks?”

“Did you meet Sign Girl?”

“Are you friends with Fitzgerald?”

“Was it hard to move to the US from Canada?”

“Greer!”

The last voice is the one that sticks out to me the most, and I spin on my heel to see Stevie barreling down the hallway, an older man trailing not too far behind her.

“Hey,” I say as she approaches.

She takes in the scene around me, all the kids staring up at me like a god, and she grins.

“Having fun?”

“Loads,” I reply, but it doesn’t have that same sarcasm it usually does. “Where have you been?”

Her phone rang about ten minutes ago, and she left me to fend for myself.

“Greer,” she says, waving at the man behind her, “this is my father, Cliff. Dad, this is Jacob Greer.”

Holy shit. Her dad is here.

I didn’t know I’d be meeting him. I mean, sure, she’s met my mother, but that was different. It was her wedding.

Stevie clears her throat, bringing me back to the moment, and I realize her father’s holding his hand out to me.

“Sorry,” I say, finally shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you, Cliff.”

His eyes narrow at the same time the grip he has on my hand tightens. “I wasn’t aware Stevie was seeing someone.”

“Oh, no, Dad. We’re not dating. He’s just here to support Macie. He’s been coaching her.”

“That so?” her father says, and I can tell he doesn’t believe a word she says about us not dating.

I’m not sure I believe it either because as much as I hate to admit it, what we’re doing is starting to feel a lot like dating. I’ve been thinking about it frequently since the other day when the guys were giving me shit in the locker room. I am spending a lot of time with Stevie and Macie; practically every moment I’m not in the rink, I’m with them. We’re either working on Macie’s goaltending, always going to grab dinner afterward, or I’m finding excuses to stop by the donut truck—not to mention every night I’ve been home, I’ve snuck over to Stevie’s place in the late evening after Macie’s gone to bed. We text or video-chat every day when I’m away, and she’s all I can think about whenever it comes time to go home.

We’re still just labeling it as fun but…what if it’s not anymore? What if this is something else? Something more? Something…real?

I give myself a shake, bringing my attention back to the man who is still looking at me with uncertain eyes. I’m sure he’s wondering why his daughter is lying to him for my sake. I know if the roles were reversed and my daughter told me she wasn’t dating someone when that didn’t seem to be the case, I’d have many questions, such as Why are you stringing my kid along? Is she not good enough for you to settle down with? Are you using her?

I’d bet a thousand bucks that’s what’s going through his mind right now. That same sour feeling from before settles into my stomach, but I swallow it down because now isn’t the time to deal with it.

“Your granddaughter is doing great,” I tell the gray-haired man, forcing a smile. “She’s a natural out on the ice. I’m sure with some more training after she gets a few games under her belt, she’ll be starting goalie in no time.”

For the first time since he walked over here, he grins. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. My late husband would be thrilled. He loved hockey.” He peers down at his daughter with sad eyes. “I’m bummed he can’t see her on the ice.”

“Me too, Dad.” Stevie pats his shoulder. “We should probably get in there and grab our seats. The play is going to be starting soon.” She looks at the kids. “Kids, go on in. I’m sure your teachers are wondering where the hell you are.”

She shoos them away, and they disappear reluctantly, all of them looking back at me, some even waving.

“We should head in too. After you, Dad.”

Stevie lets her father lead us into the small auditorium, and we follow closely behind him.

“You know…” I rest my hand on the small of her back, dropping my lips near her ear. “You can’t say hell in front of the kids.”

“Is that so?” she asks as we take our seats.

“Yep. You see that one with the crooked tie?” I point to the stage where the kids are lining up on platforms, and she nods. “I got in trouble with him earlier.”

She tucks her lips together, stifling a laugh. “He yelled at you?”

“Nah. Just gave me a stern talking-to. I was shaking in my boots.”

She giggles, and I love the sound of it. It’s quickly become my favorite thing she does.

A few people turn to look at us; the lights are dimmed and the show is clearly about to start. I don’t care, though. I could watch her laugh all day long.

“Shh!” I tell her. “The show’s starting.”

She mimics zipping her lips and throwing away the key, but they’re still pulled into a grin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her father staring at me over her head. He looks between me and Stevie, a slow grin curling his lips. Oh, he’s definitely not buying the just friends line she fed him.

And I’m not sure I’m buying it anymore, either.

“You did great, kid!” Stevie says, wrapping her daughter in a hug and pressing a loud, smacking kiss to her cheek after the show.

“Ew, gross, Mom!” She wriggles out of her mom’s hold and wipes off the kiss. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“You let me kiss you every night before bed.”

“Mom!” Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh! Not in front of…” Macie slides her eyes my way.

I shrug. “My mom still kisses me.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Yep, and I let her because one day she’s not going to be here anymore, and I’ll want those embarrassing kisses more than anything.”

“Oh.” Macie looks up at her mom. “All right, you can kiss me—but not when you’re wearing that gross lipstick that I swear I am never wearing.”

I chuckle, knowing there have been many times in my life I’ve walked around with a lipstick stain on my cheek, all thanks to my mother.

“Can we go? I’m hungry.”

“Of course,” Stevie says. “Do you want to grab McDonald’s on the way home?”

“What? No! It’s Thursday. It’s mac and cheese night!”

“Mac and cheese night?” I ask.

“Every Thursday,” Macie says. “And I make it.”

“Yeah? I love mac and cheese.”

“You should come. Mom, can Greer come for dinner? Grandpa too?”

“Of course I’ll come,” Cliff says, smiling down at his granddaughter. He looks at me. “Greer?”

I glance over at Stevie, unsure if she wants me to intrude on her evening with her family, but she doesn’t seem to be giving any indication that she wants me to say no.

“Sure. Why not?”

Stevie grabs Macie’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

We get stopped a few times leaving the school, and I do my best to greet each kid with a smile but also hurry up because I know Macie is dying for food.

“Can I ride home with Greer?” she asks once we hit the parking lot. “I was the star of the show, so I should be able to ride in the cool car and not the lame minivan.”

“It’s an SUV!” Stevie argues, though Macie doesn’t pay her any attention, already skipping toward my ZR1, which I’m glad I drove instead of the Viper.

“Damn.” Cliff whistles. “That’s a nice car. I love Corvettes.”

“That’s what Stevie said. Want a ride?”

“What? No! I already called dibs, Grandpa!” Macie yells.

Cliff laughs. “Maybe next time.”

I follow behind Stevie and her father, ensuring I drive the speed limit and not a mile over with the precious cargo beside me.

“You did well tonight,” I tell Macie when we pull into their apartment complex. “Even I got excited about going to the aquarium.”

“Me too. I love animals. If I didn’t already have plans to play hockey, I would do something with animals when I grow up, maybe be a marine biologist or something.”

“I already knew I wanted to play hockey when I was your age too, but I thought about becoming a veterinarian for a while.”

“Do you have any animals?”

I shake my head. “No. Being away on the road makes it too hard since I don’t have anyone to take care of them at my place.”

“We can,” she says. “My mom and me can stop by and take care of them for you.”

She says it so innocently like she has no clue the weight her words carry, and I suppose she doesn’t. She doesn’t realize her words have knocked the breath out of my lungs just thinking about them in my apartment, images of them playing with puppies and opening presents on Christmas morning playing like a movie in my head.

And, to my complete surprise, it doesn’t sound bad or scary at all.

“Mom and I,” I correct as I shut off the engine. “We’re here.”

She’s out of the car before I can even get the words out, racing for her mother.

“Geez, someone’s excited for mac and cheese,” Stevie comments as Macie races up the stairs, her grandpa right behind her. She sashays over to me, her hands tucked into her back pockets. “You really don’t have to stay for dinner, you know. I’m sure you have a lot of other things going on.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She peers up at me, her bright blue eyes as gorgeous as ever. “I do.”

“Then I’ll stay, Stevie.”

She grins. “Good. Come on, then. We better get up there before she tries to put corn in the pasta again.”

“Corn?” I wrinkle my nose, following her up the stairs.

“Oh yeah. We get really wild in the Thomas house on Thursdays.”

“What the hell did I get myself into with you girls?”

Stevie looks at me over her shoulder. “Heck.” She winks, running just out of my reach before I can swat her ass.

“You’ll pay for that later,” I call out, trudging behind her.

“That’s the plan!”

I shake my head, following her inside.

What the hell did I get myself into?