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She smiles, her eyes lifting from her stomach to mine. “Do you want to know?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound so convinced.”
All right, so she sees through me as always. “I don’t know.” I let go of her and turn to reach for my bag by the door and then grab my phone, keys, and water. “I care, but it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure I’ll suck at parenting both,” I tease. “So I guess boy or girl, I’ll wing it.”
“Ami’s praying for a girl. Wants to teach her to dance.”
I smile, trying to ease softness into my tone. I really don’t want to give her any doubt that I don’t want this, despite feeling my chest is going to explode with fear. “That’d be cute.” I lean in for one more kiss. “Call me.”
“I will.”
I meet Mase in the elevator, his eyes a little bloodshot, his playoff beard a little thicker already. I smile and press the button on the wall. “What’s wrong with you? You look like Wolverine. Where’s your claws?”
He shrugs, pulling out one earbud, ignoring my comments. “Nothing. Just thinking about the game tonight.”
When we have back-to-back games, we usually need to keep our focus. Mase is quiet when he’s focused. With it being the start of the Stanley Cup playoffs, we have to stay on point and maintain the team bond; the ones between players fighting for one another is what keeps us going.
Focused? My mind is all over the place, shifting from Callie to the baby and then back to Callie, who’s been having nightmares lately. Every night and it makes me wonder if she’d been having them when she lived alone.
“Hey, bud.” I nudge Mase with my elbow. “Does Ami have nightmares still?”
“Yeah.” Mase glances over at me as we exit the elevators and into the parking garage. “All the time. Is Callie?”
“Yeah, but she never talks about it other than that one time.” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish my thought.
We’re at his car now, and he exhales slowly, composing himself. “It’s hard. Just be there for her.”
“Man, I try, but with our messed-up schedules, being there for her just means I’m a phone call away, and that shit ain’t the same as being there to hold my girl.” Rubbing my face in frustration, I open the door and slide into the passenger seat. And then it hits me, in a few months, it’ll be me not being there for two. It’s crushing. I can’t have a normal profession and be that eight-to-five guy. But my profession also provides a lifestyle most only dream of. I can give them anything and everything they’ve ever wanted.
Mase pulls out of the parking garage. “Knowing that you will be there, any time of the day or night, just a phone call away, is all they want to hear. Our girls know and accept our schedules. Ami has called me several times, freaking the fuck out. They just need to be able to hear our voices.”
Mase has a point. I need to make sure that Callie knows I will always be here for her, no matter where I’m playing.
* * *
When we getto the arena where we’re meeting to head out to Vancouver, Ed traps me outside the locker room. You probably know this by my daddy, okay, parent issues, but I question authority. Maybe because I didn’t have any growing up, I feel the need to justify it when others tried to bestow it. But a guy like Ed doesn’t want any questions asked. He’s going to give you a piece of his mind, and you better listen as far as he’s concerned.
That isn’t in my nature.
“What was that last night?” he asks, giving a look like I should know what he’s talking about. I do. He’s referring to the last two games and my performance. It’s been… how do I say this? Exceptionally shitty?
I shrug as if I don’t care. Only I do care. I’m just as disappointed as he is over the last few games. Nothing irritates me more than when I have an off night. Instead, I go with a subtle, unremarkable approach. “It’s hockey,” I tell him. “Sometimes it doesn’t go your way.”
Most players would never talk to their general manager like that. I guess that’s where I’m different. No sense kissing his ass. He already hates me.
“Well.” He considers my honesty and draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding. “I need you to get into the dirty areas and win the puck. Keep shooting the five-hole.”
Look at him trying to act like he gives a fuck. Yeah, Ed. I’ll keep shooting the five-hole with your daughter. I kinda want to say that to him too. I wanna see the reaction I’ll get.
I still can’t look at Ed the same way after I heard he knew Callie was raped in a locker room, and he did nothing. Standing in front of him now, I kinda want to hit him. Okay, there’s no kinda about it. You wanna too, don’t you?
And then this emotion festers deep inside me. He knew his daughter was being used and did nothing. Not a goddamn thing. She was raped in a locker room at sixteen. My jaw tightens, and I lean in, keeping the conversation between us, despite Coach and a handful of players within earshot. Ed and I have never had a good relationship, and we apparently aren’t about to now. “I’ll remember that while I’m fuckin’ your daughter.”
Yep. You heard that right. I said that to our general manager. The man who has the ability to ruin my career if he wants. The look of shock on his face is worth it, though. I wish Callie was here to see it because it’s fucking priceless.
Ed snorts, a smirk on his face as he leans in. “You’re a real piece of shit, Orting,” he says, pushing past as his shoulder knocks into mine.