Page 10

TOM

I had an entire night to myself, and Crew was with Sam and Kelsey for the next few days. It’s strange how quickly I got used to having a kid; the nights without him felt weird; not only was something missing, but I felt aimless in my own company.

I thought back to where I was when the news broke.

I had just moved to Colorado, and my girlfriend had been in the final stages of moving in with me.

Bella and I started dating the summer after my infamous trip to Cancun, and our relationship quickly became serious.

In hindsight, I should have recognized that she was more enamored with the thought of living the hockey WAG life than she was with me.

When I discovered I was a father, I prioritized co-parenting with Sam and Kelsey and made it clear to Bella that my son and my relationship with him would be first on my list. When we eventually broke up, I was angry with Bella for not understanding where I was at, but I had done little to assure her that there was still room for her in my life.

So, I started my rookie year single, navigating the pressures of the transition to the NHL and figuring out how to be a father.

All the while, Sam was there, ready and willing to be the father Crew needed if I failed.

I felt like I was auditioning for the role of Crew’s father, and any misstep would cost me my son.

Almost a year later, I was comfortable with the friendship I had developed with Sam, but I kept my nose clean, not wanting to give any reason for Kelsey to pursue full custody.

Of my teammates, I was closest to Damon Amari and Alex Bendik.

Between Amari’s on-again, off-again relationship with the love of his life and Bendik’s two children, we were content to stay in a while on the road.

Yes, I was jealous of some of the stories I heard from the single guys on the team, but not enough to risk my son.

When a video surfaced last year of a threesome between two of our teammates, Charlie Duncan and Vasil Mink, I thanked the gods for divine intervention. I had planned to go with them to that party, but they got impatient waiting for me to finish up a FaceTime call with Crew, and left without me.

Since breaking up with Bella, I’d had one date with a woman who’d become a clinger. After one dinner, no sex, she must have seen dollar signs, and I’d ended up blocking her number. When she started harassing me outside of the rink while I was with my son, I reluctantly filed a restraining order.

Damon: When are you getting back in town?

Me: The 29th. Is Gumby back?

We called Bendik Gumby because he looked like Gumby when he blocked a shot on goal. He and his wife lived in the Czech Republic during the off-season.

Damon: Not yet.

Me: Sorry, man. Don’t take that as a sign to call Kayleigh.

Damon: Ummm.

Me: What?

Damon: She’s back with me. Things went well this off-season.

Me: It always does. It’s the rest of the time she can’t handle.

I hoped he and Kayleigh could make it work, but the drama last season had caused more distraction than necessary. Kayleigh had questioned all the WAGs about Damon’s behavior on the road and could not accept that he was faithful.

It didn’t help when her photo was passed around on social media, and her looks were torn apart.

Women could be horrible to other women, and while Kayleigh was stunning, she hadn’t had the confidence to ignore the haters.

What was it about the vipers where they always knew precisely what weakness to attack?

Damon: So…the nanny?

Me: She’s good with Crew.

Damon: And?

Me: She’s hotter than any nanny should be allowed to be.

Damon: Fuck, man. Good luck with that...

Yeah, fuck is right.

I thought, tossing my phone onto the bed before aimlessly picking it back up, scrolling the dating app WooLink, and checking for messages.

I’d been careful with my profile pictures not to give away the fact that I played professional hockey, but I’d yet to find anyone interesting enough to risk meeting.

You would think players wouldn’t be able to use online dating apps, but many of us did.

It helped because we could learn more about each other before the women were influenced by their image of dating a hockey player.

And while some guys liked the easy access of the puck bunnies, I never felt like any of them would look at me twice if I didn’t play hockey.

I closed out the app and moved on to Instagram. Usually, it was my second-to-last stop in every doom scroll session. I tried to save TikTok for right before bed since it had a way of stealing hours of my life. The never-ending FYP seemed to know exactly what my brain needed to zone out.

I typed Calliope Douglas into the search only to find that her profile was private.

While it was reassuring that my son’s nanny was locked down on social media, I’d hoped to be able to snoop a little without sending smoke signals.

I hovered over the follow button, unsure if following your kid’s nanny’s socials was appropriate.

Fuck it. Done.

A text message notification instantly showed up on my screen. My heart rate increased until I realized it had nothing to do with the Instagram request I had just sent.

Kelsey: Hey, are you free? Crew wants to say goodnight.

Me: Always.

Well, I wouldn’t always be free, but if I were, I’d never say no to putting my son to bed at night if it was remotely possible. Another reason dating wasn’t in the cards is that not many women my age would be okay with their needs being last with their boyfriends.

My phone trilled with the sound of an incoming video chat.

“Hey, buddy,” I said as his face appeared on the screen.

“Dadda, goodnight?” He stared expectantly into the phone, something we had been doing since he was a baby. At first, the phone was more of a curiosity; now, he seemed to understand that it was a way to connect with the people he loved.

“Do you want me to read you your book before you go to sleep?”

“Yes, Peeze.”

Kelsey and I have been working to teach him please and thank you, and I loved how he said the words. Thank you sounded a bit like “Dang you.” We took as many videos of these little bloopers as possible to cement the moments into memory.

I read him the book we’d been reading before bed, fully aware that he had a different book he’d be reading with Kelsey once we hung up the phone.

Toddlers had a way of using their cuteness for incredible feats of manipulation.

When we finished, I told him I loved him, and he followed it by telling me he “Yoved” me, too.

My heart squeezed painfully, as it always did when we were apart.

After hanging up, I found myself on Instagram again, where Calliope had accepted my follow request and followed my profile in return.

She wouldn’t see much on my profile, only hockey photos managed strictly by the team’s social media coordinator.

She kept our profiles clean and did her best to un-tag us from anything that would reflect poorly on the team.

Calliope had hundreds of posts, a ton with her family and several with Monica. The biggest surprise was the videos of her playing the guitar and singing. Damn, she had some talent. Careful not to like the video she had posted over a year ago; I got sucked into watching her sing.

From her resume, she’d only graduated this past year, so I estimated that she was about twenty-two or twenty-three years old at most. Monica would be about two to three years older than Calliope, which led me to wonder how they had become such good friends.

About an hour later, I’d gone down the rabbit hole, unable to stop creeping her social media.

“Grrr,” I growled and tossed the phone across the room.

I had to find something to do. Sitting around all night was going to push me over the edge.

I only realized I hadn’t had dinner when my stomach growled as a reminder.

Knowing that my refrigerator had nothing that would remotely be considered a meal, I resolved to sit alone at the bar a few streets over, eat dinner, and possibly suck down a few beers.

Maybe, if I were lucky, I’d be able to catch some live music.

I ran my hands through my hair, changed into a more appropriate T-shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, and headed out. The bar was crowded, but I could still find a seat. Single seats were always easier to come by, which was another reminder of my loner status.

It turned out that tonight was open mic night, and several groups gathered, waiting for their friends to perform. Okay, it looked like I would get my live music, but would it be good?

I ordered a burger and a light beer, reminding myself I needed to tighten my diet once the season started.

Crew loved dinosaur nuggets, and it had been easier for him to eat what I had made for him.

On the nights I was alone, I often forgot to eat until it was late at night and then not making the best choices.

My body wouldn’t be as forgiving when the season started and the physical rigors set in.

I washed down the first bite of my burger with a swig of beer and distracted myself with my phone, ignoring the people around me.

I liked Boston but wasn’t sticking around much longer.

Maybe the next time I was in town, I would put more effort into meeting people, but this summer had been all about spending time with my son.

The bartender checked on me as the first performer took the stage.

I’d finished my first beer, and without any reason not to, I ordered a second.

Three songs later, I caught a flash of a mop of dark hair and unruly curls and turned my attention back to my phone, ignoring my urge to investigate those curls.

Curls were my kryptonite, always had been.

And then I heard her voice as she played guitar and performed a cover of Taylor Swift’s Clean, and I couldn’t focus on my phone anymore.

When I sought her out, I did a quick double-take.

Was that Calliope? But she had pin-straight hair, and yes, her Instagram had those videos, but I hadn’t imagined that she performed outside of there.

Granted, there hadn’t been a reason for her to mention it, but her voice, fuck, she was incredible. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

As she worked her way through her second cover, performing Zac Brown Band’s Highway 20 Ride, she locked eyes with me.

Her voice was like a balm as she sang about the heartache of leaving your kid behind.

My heart beat painfully in my chest as I felt the lyrics.

The tone of her voice was sweet with a growl.

When she finished her set with a cover of Silver Spring, I knew her voice would haunt me, and I’d never wronged her.

I watched silently as she packed up her guitar, leaving it on the side of the stage before making her way to where I sat stunned on my barstool.

“Hey,” she rushed out, still flushed from her performance.

“Curls?” I asked, my hand reaching out of its own volition and twirling it around my fingers. Shit, that was smooth as fuck, Tom.

She smirked, “That’s your takeaway? I guess I need a bit more practice,” joking as her eyes darted to mine nervously. “But yes, since it seems to be such a shock to you, I straightened my hair the other day. This is me, au naturale.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to run into you tonight,” I said.

I also wasn’t expecting her songs or voice to pack such a punch.

“I don’t have Crew tonight and was just looking to burn a couple of hours before I went to bed.

But damn, Calliope, that was…well, completely unexpected. You have a beautiful voice.”

And now it would be even more difficult to get the images of her curls wrapped around my hand or spread across my lap out of my head. This sexy woman had just revealed that she had curls and a voice that was both buttery and sweet with a sexy growl.

“Thanks, but starting Monday, it’s mostly going to be reserved for singing Old MacDonald,” she joked.

Yup, she could make Old MacDonald sound sexy, too. Was I a terrible human for picturing her singing it on my living room floor, curls spread out across her shoulders, and a tight T-shirt spreading across her perfect tits?

“Can I buy you a drink? Or is that too weird?” I asked, wishing the seat next to me opened up so I could have her join me.

“You can, but full disclosure, my sister and brother are waiting over there,” she said, pointing out a man and woman in their mid-twenties. “I’m going to be drinking that drink with them.”

“The drink was a tip. It’s yours to enjoy however you see fit,” I said, meaning it but still slightly disappointed. It was probably better that we didn’t spend extra time together socially.

She nodded, “Ok, tequila soda, please.”

“Lime?”

“Please.”

Her eyes had barely left mine, and I only turned away to order her drink from the bartender. When the bartender returned with it, I handed her the drink, and she sipped it. Her lush lips wrapped around the straw as she sucked. Her cobalt blue eyes looked up at me shyly.

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said, returning to the table with her siblings.

“Monday,” I repeated to no one in particular. The bartender smirked at me, seeing exactly what had caught my attention.

“Nice try,” he said.

“That’s my kid’s nanny,” I said, watching his eyes widen.

“Good luck with that,” he laughed and walked away to take care of other customers.

I stayed a few more minutes before paying my tab and heading home. My thoughts returned to the sound and image of her sitting on that stage with her guitar. How was I expected to forget that image and look at her as a nanny for my son?

I cursed at the unfairness; the perfect woman had practically landed in my lap. And she couldn’t be any more off-limits.