Page 8

Grayson

Callum and I find a spot in short-term parking and haul ourselves out of the car. I might have gone a little too hard during practice today—my body is sore, and my head is a little fuzzy from the anxiety attack.

I’m just glad I didn’t throw up.

“You okay, man?” Callum asks, eyeing me carefully. Callum and Luca—and the rest of the Frost roster—are the nicest guys I’ve met. Especially for hockey players. But I still get the sense that Callum isn’t ready to jump into talking about my feelings.

“Yeah,” I roll my shoulders and clench my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. They’re just little girls—how bad can it be?

The Milwaukee Airport is by no means the largest I’ve been to. The crowds are mild, and we don’t have to fight to get through. Compared to O’Hare or Denver, it’s low key, easy to navigate, and we manage to find the drop-off point for unaccompanied minors pretty easily.

When we turn the corner and start walking down the long hallway, I can already see two girls standing close to a desk. One is taller, her arms crossed, a sparkling purple backpack on her shoulders. There’s a beaded necklace around her neck and her hair pushed back in a stiff headband. The other is shorter, huddled right next to her sister, clutching a large stuffed green bunny to her chest, her face half-buried in it.

And both of them look like Josh. Calliope—the older one—has a shorter cut, hair swinging just above her shoulders in glossy waves. She just turned thirteen and has that look about her. A kid stuck between baby and adult, not sure how to hold herself, but filled with rage.

Athena is six years old and looks like a strong gust of wind could carry her straight away. Her arms and legs are so skinny, her shaking hands giving her the presence of a little chihuahua scared of everything around her. Her hair is much longer, and hangs down her back, thin, and a little wispy at the edges.

It’s not just close—their hair is the exact same color as Josh’s, and it socks me in the stomach with missing him. Logically, I should have known that his daughters would look like him, but it hadn’t even occurred to me how it would make me feel to be face-to-face with them. To be staring at them and thinking of their dad.

Thinking of the day he first noticed I was having an anxiety attack. All the times he’d wordlessly hand me a bottle of water. The smile on his face the last time I saw him, the way he’d held Calliope in the crook of his elbow and tilted her up like Look, see ?

For a second, I expect him to come walking around the corner, a grin on his face, hands in the air, wearing a gotcha expression.

“You should have seen your face!”

But Josh isn’t here, and he wouldn’t joke about something like that.

The first person to see Callum and me is the attendant at the desk. She looks up, her eyes sweeping over us, up and down. Then she moves around the side of the desk to stand in front of the girls, plastering a customer-service smile on her face.

“Hello,” she says sweetly, but there’s a hint of menace in it. “Name?”

“Oh,” I falter for a moment, clear my throat, and say, “Grayson O’Connor.”

Now the girls have turned and are looking at us. Calliope’s eyes dart between Callum and me, sharp and unhappy. Athena looks like she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Can I see some identification?” the attendant asks, tone chipper. It takes me a moment to dig into my pocket and pull out my wallet. If she sees the NHL card in the other sleeve, she doesn’t seem to care.

After a second, she returns to the desk. “I’ll need you to fill out these papers.”

“Hey, girls,” I manage to them, picking up a pen. “Just give me a second and we’ll be on our way.”

When I turn to fill out the forms, I hear Callum step toward them and start to speak.

“Hey, I’m Callum, Grayson’s friend. Are you guys excited to be in Milwaukee?”

“No,” Calliope says, tone clipped, her little voice mighty, and mightily pissed off . “We want to go back to Colorado. With Aunt Kayla.”

Callum seems at a loss for words, and my hands shake around the pen. I finish filling out the forms as quickly as I can, not wanting to leave him with the girls alone. The lawyer had mentioned behavioral issues. Maybe being rude to a stranger is the extent of them.

“Alright,” I slide the papers back over to the attendant, who scans them before nodding and stamping them one at a time, like she’s trying to delay this as long as possible. Finally, she shuffles them together.

“They’re all yours,” she says, before leaning around me. “Have a great day, girls!”

Athena lifts her hand in a weak gesture, but Calliope doesn’t pay any attention to the attendant at all, instead glaring straight at Callum, who looks like he might melt away from the intensity of her glare.

“Alright,” I say again, nervously, turning to look at them. Athena avoids my eyes, and Calliope stares up at me defiantly. “I guess we’ll…go home now.”

“I’d love to go home,” Calliope says, her brows drawn down, her hand outstretched and resting on the handle of a pink suitcase. “But that’s not where we’re going. We’re going to your house, aren’t we?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” I say, swallowing. “I’m sorry. I wish you could go home too—”

Calliope rolls her eyes, turning and starting to drag her suitcase away. “Save it, we’ve heard it all. Come on, Thena.”

Her sister trots along beside her, and I have to admire Calliope’s determination. She has no idea where she’s going, and will need Callum and I to get there, but is pushing forward into the crowded airport anyway.

“Oh- kay ,” Callum says, quietly, so the girls can’t hear us. “That’s fucking terrifying.”

When I glance back at the desk, the attendant gives me a quick, disapproving press of her lips, shaking her head.

I hope it means Good luck , but I know better than that. More than likely, that look means she doesn’t think I’m going to last a day with these girls.

***

“And this could be your room, if you want?”

I’m standing at the open door to one of the guest rooms, gulping against the lump in my throat. Athena stands next to me, peering in, and I see it through her eyes for the first time—a large, empty space. It would make a great hotel room.

White walls, a simple IKEA dresser, TV resting atop it. Fake plant on the windowsill. A queen-sized bed, white and bare save for the little pink teddy bear I bought last minute yesterday, trying to make the room feel more like it belonged to her. It might have looked better without the sad little bear, all alone in a sea of white.

As though wanting to punctuate that point, Athena lets out a whimper that quickly avalanches into a series of sobs. I turn, hovering my hand over her shoulder, not sure if I should reach out and touch her, or how to make her feel better, or how to even begin handling this situation.

“Hey,” I start, grimacing at my own incompetence. “It’s okay—”

“What did you do ?” Calliope is there in a second, putting her arm around her sister and giving me a glare with so much loathing it actually knocks the breath out of me for a second.

“I-I didn’t—” I gesture into the room. “I think she doesn’t like it—”

“Don’t worry,” Calliope says, ignoring me and leaning down to wipe the tears from her sister’s cheeks. “We’ll stay together, Thena. You can come sleep with me.”

As she ushers her sister away into the other bedroom, I could almost smack my palm to my forehead. Of course the kids would want to stay together right now—I should have assumed they’d share a room. That’s what most siblings do, right?

“I heard the crying,” Callum says, grimacing. “They don’t like the rooms?”

The door shuts, and I wince until I hear Athena’s crying start to die down. When I look back to Callum, it must be with the expression of a man who’s drowning, because he takes a step forward and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You know what, man?” Callum says, pressing his lips together for a second and appraising me. “You’re doing your best. You could have said no, let those kids go into the system. But you didn’t. And it can only get better from here, right?”

Technically, I know the words are true, but for some reason, they don’t make me feel any better about the situation.

“Right,” I echo, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.

“You know what, you should bring them to the thing tomorrow.”

“The thing?”

Callum hesitates, brow wrinkling. “Yeah—it was in the group chat. You must have missed it. Sloane and I just got that new pool put in, and we’re going to have a little thing at our house. Barbecue. Bunch of the guys from the team are coming, and they’re bringing their kids, too. Maybe these guys can make some friends?”

I haven’t even thought of checking the group chat, I’ve been so consumed with this situation. I glance at the very firmly shut bedroom door, mind spinning, trying to figure out if taking them to a barbecue is the right move.

“I don’t have kids,” Callum says, raising his hands up in a shrug. “But something tells me it would be good for them. You know, like associate Milwaukee with good things.”

“Sure, that makes sense. I’ll try to make it.”

Callum glances around and takes a step back, then he pauses, looks me in the eye. “This is a lot, Grayson. For anyone. Call us if you need anything, okay?”

Something sticks in my throat, making it hard to speak. So instead, I just nod. Callum nods back once, then he turns and leaves, waving one last time before walking out to his car.

I take a deep breath and try to figure out what I’m going to do alone in this house with two little girls who hate me.