Page 11 of Power Play

“Me, neither.” He gives me a rueful smile. “Makes being on the road more challenging, that’s for sure.”

“How does it work?”

“Hmm?” He sets aside the bouncer pieces and reaches for his beer, taking a sip. Mesmerized, I watch as his throat works, and a shiver runs through me.

“Travel. The hockey thing.”

“All the games can’t be home games. That wouldn’t be fun for anyone.” He chuckles, clearly amused at his joke. “We’re on the road from the middle of September through April. Longer if we make the playoffs, which we have for the last few seasons. Do you watch hockey?”

“Not since the team moved to Utah.”

“Right.” Hurt creases his face, and my heart twinges in sympathy. I probably shouldn’t have reminded him.

The team traded him right before they changed owners and relocated. It must be difficult, knowing the franchise he spent three years with no longer wanted him, and on top of that, they don’t even exist in name anymore.

I know something about not being wanted. Lived that life my entire childhood, right up until I found Carter. We saved each other.

Fucking fuck, I miss her. My face falls, and tears cloud my vision again. Huffing under my breath, I wipe them away. I’m so fucking tired of crying.

“Can I get you anything?” Al asks. “Water, beer, tequila?”

My eyebrows dart up to my hairline. “Really?” I wouldn’t think athletes drink during the season, but what do I know? Maybe he’s able to drink because he works out so much.

He shrugs, nonchalant. “After the week you’ve had, I wouldn’t blame you if you need to take the edge off. Emmy’s asleep. You’re off duty.”

“In that case, sure, I’ll take a beer.” He goes to get up, but I wave him off. “I can get it. If I’m going to be living here, working here, you won’t be waiting on me hand and foot.”

“That’s true. There are only two left. They’re both for you, if you want them. I’m done after this.”

Moving through the small living room and even smaller kitchen, I take in the decor—or lack thereof—before grabbing a bottle from inside the fridge door and twisting off the top. I’m not much of a light-beer fan, but my poison of choice—salted caramel, chocolate, and espresso gelato—isn’t available, so this will have to do.

Al has moved to the couch, and I sit at the opposite end, drawing my leg up as I face him.

“This is weird, right?” he says.

Unable to help myself, I burst into laughter. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“I don’t know you. I don’t remember your sister,” he continues. “And now I have a kid, and you’re living here, and we’re strangers.”

“It’s definitely not what I expected when I woke up this morning.”

“Me either.” His bashful smile reminds me he’s new to all this, too. Just like I suddenly became responsible for Emmy the day of the car crash, he’s going through the same life-changing emotions of oh shit, I’m a parent now, too. Although he probably isn’t grieving Carter on top of it all, especially if he can’t remember her. “I’m still a little stunned, but I’m determined to make the most of this. I wouldn’t be able to do this without your being here.”

“You’re a hockey player. You have endless money. All you’d have to do is put out a call for a nanny and thousands of women would jump at the chance,” I counter.

“Yeah, but I don’t want them. Emmy knows you. You’re all she knows.” He swallows loudly. “She’s already lost her mom. I can’t take you away from her, too.”

“Thanks.” My voice comes out in a croak, and I clear my throat. “I didn’t want to leave her. When I thought I had to…”

Al reaches across the couch and sets his hand on my knee, drawn up on the cushion.

“For as long as you’d like, we want you to be around. There’s no end date on this, not if you don’t want. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be playing, but hopefully, it’s at least another decade. So I’ll need the help,” he says simply, then sighs. “And you’re her family.”

“Carter—”

He shakes his head. “We’ll talk about her another day. Right now, the only words out of my mouth will be negative, and I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. I’m so fucking angry at missing out on the last six months, for not knowing about any of this before today. I don’t want to lash out. Not right now.”

With an audible click, my jaw snaps shut, and I mull over his words before acquiescing. “Understood.”