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His lips quirk and eyes light up. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well, Trouble,” he starts, lifting his glass up to take another gulp of lemonade. He sets it down and runs his tongue along his top lip to swipe up every drop of lemonade before he smiles. “The feeling is one hundred percent mutual.”

“I like that.”

His eyes don’t leave mine as he winks. “I like you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CARSON

“Great work today, Ford.”

I glance over at Gerald, the physical therapist I started seeing. I’ve been seeing him every other day for the past week, in an effort to get my arm as strong as possible and back into working ability. Shooting shouldn’t be an issue, but it’s more so about protecting my wrist so this doesn’t happen again.

In a way, I’m grateful that this injury happened when it did. I have the entire offseason to get stronger and to rehabilitate my wrist. If this would have happened in the middle of the regular season, it would have been more of a race to get back on the ice and back into the game.

“Thanks.”

“At the pace that you’re healing and the way rehabbing is going, I imagine we’ll probably be able to discharge you earlier than we expected.” He rises to his feet the same time I do. “Have your trainer contact me and I’ll touch base with him again since we’re one week in already.”

“Okay, perfect,” I nod, holding my hand out to shake his. “Thanks again, Gerald.”

“Of course,” he shakes my hand, giving me a pat on the shoulder with his free hand. “See you next week.”

I leave his office feeling refreshed and stronger. My muscles are definitely tired with all the work I’ve been putting in, but I can feel that my body is healing and for that, I’m eternally grateful.

This career is so demanding and it’s something that can vanish in the blink of an eye. One injury is all it takes to not have the same stability in your body and to no longer be able to continue playing. I’m thankful that isn’t the case for me right now and I can only hope it’s many years yet before I am forced to retire.

Fingers crossed that I get to have a choice when it happens and not have the choice made for me.

When I get back home, I pull my car into the garage and walk into the house through the door that leads into the mudroom—the side entryway from the garage into the kitchen. I kick off my shoes and find Matteo in the kitchen waiting for me. He greets me as he hops off the counter with a sheepish grin on his face.

He’s holding a banana and starts to peel it. “Hey, Dad. How was therapy?”

“It was good.” I walk over to him, ruffle his hair, and plant a kiss on top of his head. “Where’s your mother and does she know you were climbing on the counters?”

Matteo smirks and shrugs. “I couldn’t reach the bananas.” He walks over to the island, pulling open the drawer with the trash can and drops the peel into it. “She’s upstairs packing.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“To go back to Great-Aunt Bella’s.” Matteo chews a bite of the ripe fruit and swallows it. “She said we can go back there now.”

My heart picks up the pace inside my chest, dread rolling in the pit of my stomach. “Oh, okay.”

“I don’t want to go,” Matteo tells me, his voice quiet as he glances around to make sure Andi doesn’t hear him. “I don’t like that house very much and I wish we could just stay here with you instead.”

I roll my lips between my teeth. “Let me go talk to your mom. Maybe I can talk her into you guys staying here.”

“Can you see if we can just stay here forever?”

My eyes widen. “You don’t want to go back home?”

“I like it here,” Matteo tells me with nothing but pure honesty. He takes another bite of his banana. “If we stay here, then I get to see you and mom all the time.”

My heart splinters as his words seep into my soul. Over the past few weeks, we’ve really had an amazing opportunity to bond. Feeling this connection between us growing has filled my cup in ways I never knew were possible. To feel the love from your child is unlike anything else.