Page 2 of The Big Puck

The thing is, she is mine now. By birth, she belonged to my brother Neil and his no-good deserting drug addict girlfriend. By family circumstances and the request scrawled in his suicide note, the courts decreed that she was now mine. But since that was only two weeks ago, I’m not used to it.

I clear my throat. “This is Krissy. I’m not married. She’s my late brother’s baby. Mine now.”

“Oh—I’m sorry. That’s so sad,” Lainey says with shiny authentic emotions rippling over her face, forcing me to feel. I turn away and clench my jaw against the wave of strong, confused sentiments barraging my core, tearing at my soul. By force of my steely mean will, I slap it all down, suppressing everything but anger because that anger keeps me going, keeps me sane and moving forward. Anger is my gatekeeper against all the other feelings I can’t afford to feel right now.

“That’s fucking messed up, man. Sorry.” Jason looks away and shoves his hands in his pockets. I appreciate his sensible avoidance of talking about something none of us can do a thing about.

The elevator bell sounds, and the doors slide open. I push the stroller inside, hefting the two bags into a solid position on my shoulders—not good for my injured one—without saying a word.

“Let me help you with that,” Lainey says. She takes my hockey bag without permission and with a big genuine smile. I don’t bother trying to reject her help or her smile. Even I’m not mean enough to do that. Besides, I really do need some help because the bag’s strap is killing my shoulder.

Jason tries taking the bag away from her. “I’ll take it.” They have a tug-of-war inside the confines of the elevator for the ride up, and I contemplate blowing my new whistle as I stand between them and the kid—my kid. My baby girl, whether I want or deserve her. Krissy Logan is mine to care for.

“Fine,” Lainey huffs and shoves my hockey bag into her brother’s chest. He’s already carrying a bag—with no problem—on his right shoulder.

The elevator doors slide open, and Lainey steps off first—taking my stroller with her, pulling it from the front. Then she leans inside and scoops up my baby, wrapping Krissy in her arms while I watch, slack-jawed and unprepared. What’s a guy—a parent—supposed to say to someone who takes their kid without permission?

I clear my throat. Jason nearly shoves me out of the way as I step off the elevator into the hallway of the new headquarters of the NHL’s brand-new expansion team, the Portsmouth Whalers.

He lets out a low whistle. “This place is slick.” He looks around. “Which way to the President’s office?” He grins at me, and I smile back. He’s kidding around.

“Not sure, but the locker room is this way.” I take the stroller handle and start pushing it down the hall. Then I stop because Lainey has my baby, who’s supposed to be in the stroller but isn’t. Shit. What’s wrong with me? I’m the organized guy with the discipline of a marine—not that I ever was one. Hockey saved me from taking the turn down that path. Barely, by the hairs of my balls.

Jason laughs. “I’m not headed to practice yet, man. I came in early for a meeting with the owner, Mr. Gavonza.”

That news stops me in my tracks, and I’m not sure what to say besides, Shouldn’t I be in the meeting? The negotiations for his updated trade contract were widely publicized as finalized, and he was supposed to be more than thrilled. I’d be if I were him.

“What’s that all about?” I ask.

“Naw. Nothing. We’re having breakfast and chillin’. The old man is a big fan, and he’s paying me big bucks, so I humor him and keep him company when he invites me, is all.”

I nod as if I get it. Shit. My mind buzzes around the idea that, maybe, my star player can go over my head to the owner any time he doesn’t like something I say or do all season long, and my status as the coach of this team, already an open question, looks fucked up big time.

“I’ll go to the rink with you,” Lainey tells me. “I can make sure this bundle of cuteness stays nice and warm.” She nuzzles the kid and gets some kind of baby response that sounds happy.

I nod, and we walk in the opposite direction from Jason. “I’m headed to my office. I was planning—or hoping to get help from the executive staff with Krissy. I wasn’t planning to take her to the rink or locker room.” Even I know that would be too cold and inappropriate for a baby.

Stopping at the door with the plaque labeled COACH, I note the second plaque under it where my name is supposed to be remains blank. Shit.

“That was your plan? To turn her over to office staff who have a job to do that doesn’t involve minding babies?” Her voice rises, and she tightens her hold on Krissy.

“Don’t judge me. This isn’t a situation I planned for, either. My Aunt Hildie was supposed to come and stay with me, with us, but she’s had emergency hip surgery and won’t be ready for at least two months.” I unload the hockey bag from my shoulder and remove the things from the stroller.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. No judgment here. But don’t worry. You have me. No need to bother the office staff. I’ll be happy to take care of Krissy for you all day. Take as long as you like.”

I turn and look at her. “You’re not serious.” I’m hoping like hell she is. What does that say about me that I’m willing to trust the first woman who happens along to take care of my brother’s baby—correction—my baby? “I mean, do you have any experience caring for babies?” Waving at the large bag filled with things I’m still not sure what to do with, my natural skepticism has me frowning. It’s like I’m taking cover for the next blow. Things have been going wrong, one after another, for months—Aunt Hildie’s accident two days ago being the latest—and I don’t trust this bit of seemingly good luck.

Her smile brightens to a wattage that makes me want to reach for my sunglasses. And I pay attention, for the first time, clearing the distractions from my head, and really look at this girl. She’s waif-like slim, tall, with wavy long blond hair that reminds me of the beach. Her big blue eyes stare at me now. But as I stare back at her face, my eyes blink at the stunning effect of her lush lips, wide and happy, smiling at me like she’s got some kind of magic power to infuse joy, like some kind of voodoo smile, the opposite of pins in a voodoo doll. A happy voodoo smile.

Out of self-preservation, my wariness turns instantly into intense dislike.

I clear my throat, and she bobs her head. “This is your lucky day, Spence. I’m loaded with baby experience. Early childhood development was my college major, and I’ve been taking care of babies since I was eight years old when my younger brother was born. Some people have said I’m gifted, a legit baby whisperer.” She nuzzles Krissy, making the baby smile one of those lopsided no-holds-barred baby smiles with her mouth open and drooling. Point proven.

Without smiling, as if I need to counteract all the false sunshine being tossed around over the top of the rotten state of my affairs, I nod. “Okay. You can help me out with Krissy today. I called an agency yesterday, and they said I should hear from them today.”

She frowns at me, and I feel relief, like the shutters are being closed against the glaring sun. This feels more like it, more real.

“An agency? I’ll tell you what, Spence,” she says, walking around the office, holding Krissy while she moves around, jiggling the baby like they’re doing some kind of dance.